Disclaimer: Yes, I know. Not mine. If they were – well, I think Murtagh would be a good title for a book, don't you? This poem partially inspired by Thomas Grey's poem "The Fatal Sisters". All this is mine – MINE, I tell you, MINE! Ahem. If you want to borrow, ask me first. PS – I know this is gibberish. Please, be kind? I'm finally reclaiming my muse after almost a year – and lord, it feels good.
Grendel
Thorn, sharp terror, rise above –
Let the stricken sunrise see
Death of hope and dirge of love –
'Tis our hymn of victory.
OOO
Misery, sharp-singing blade
Let the red ford rise beneath.
Every child's cry a shade –
Every foeman's form a sheath.
OOO
You yet wear the cankered crown;
Bind the shadows fast to heel.
Darkened coffer, twisted throne
Even thus to you I kneel.
OOO
Raise the standard 'gainst the foe!
See the gory work begun;
Soon a brother fall below
Thus I am my father's son.
OOO
Speckled falcon, sundered hoard
Swinging past the Vaults of shade.
Sundered shadow, crown and sword;
Thus I am what I've been made.