My Poetry

The Legend of Icearth

The frost creeps from the north,
Chilling and cool, bitten flesh tenses,
Turning to hard stone the soft earth,
Touching skin and bone, culling wary senses,

Glaciers reach out like numbed fingers,
From the north, from the cool grey mist,
Snow sweeps forward armed with icy daggers,
Reaches out, closes upon the world like a fist,

Vengeful ice and terrible cold,
Cruel frost and dreary mist,
Feared enemies since times of old,
Ready for war, like a great silver-clad fist,

At its cold heart, deep amid the snow and ice,
Sorcerers of darkness, cast mysterious spells,
Guiding the snow with their cruel eyes,
Bitter and cold, the worst of frozen hells,

Water turns to glass in one’s very hand,
Leaves turn to sharp blade, misty and sad,
By a frost which even hot fire cannot tend,
No matter how hot, no matter how red,

The sorcerers hide in their unseen den,
With spell and magic, they guide the frost,
With all their cruelty and malicious ken,
From the cold many hearts stop, many lives lost,

Lives taken swiftly and cruelly,
By ice cruel and heartless, as bad as death,
And some cry, “Find the sorcerers, end this folly!”
They march to war, and with death soon met,

They end their own lives on their own path,
Unable to follow it, frozen to grim totems,
Forever frozen is their unfulfilled wrath,
Lost in mockery of stone, and glittering gems,

The road to death is the path of victory,
None can traverse it, save those who do not die,
Those with powers embellished by the gods’ glory,
But where are they, where do they lie?

They were once here living with us,
But the enemy of old, the Necromancer,
Slew them all and brought them down to dust,
So appalling, there exists no crime darker,

Yet one still thrives amid our frozen land,
Unhindered by cold winds, untouched by grim cold,
This blight surely only he can mend,
Just as he did with the dark one, the enemy of old,

Amid the howling winds and freezing mists,
From frowning mountains, shrouded in snow,
He comes just as the old epic depicts,
Strong and mighty, our enemies he will bring down low,

And without a word he strides to the north,
Undaunted by the hardships, cruel hardships,
In the Eternal Winter proud and tall he goes north,
He never stumbles, never slips,

Through tearing gales and over great glaciers,
Across white plains of snow, mockery of the sky,
Determined to bring down these sorcerers,
With a promise, the sun will again burn high,

Into the shadowy canyons of sorcery,
Into the gloom of winter, shadowed by the clouds,
Into the jaws of unpunished devilry,
Into the gloom of winter, shadowed by the clouds,

And he finds the grim Netolrari,
The bane of the sun, the bane of summer,
Snow comes from its monstrous sorcery,
The cruelest of winters, the blackest nightmare,

And using it are five hooded sorcerers,
Invisible in the snow, binding it with devilry,
Using it with no regret and no remorse,
With cruel intent, guiding its sorcery,

But now comes one inflamed with anger,
Unhindered by snow, unhindered by ice,
Determined to bring the cruel ice-monger,
The Netolrari, now opposed by fiery eyes,

Possessed with great wrath and rage,
Great burning rage, red-hot flame,
And with it a great war he shall wage,
Against the Netolrari, to end this foolish game,

With quick spell and fiery pain,
The grim ice-monger, the Netolrari,
Shall see its great power wane,
To be lost, lost in the mists of sorcery,

And the frost and cold withdraw,
The clouds tear apart, and the sun floods through,
Every frozen puddle will now thaw,
The sun burns above, with true light true,

The blight conquered forever,
The Netolrari, lost in the mists of the north,
Deep in the snow its ruins linger,
Deep in the uncured ice, in cold grim Icearth.