Ride of the Nazgul

by Nocturnallydamned

Bit of 'poetry' I wrote when extremely bored. Title says it all.

Dislcaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings, or any of the characters therein.  Nor for that matter, do I own the computer I'm typing this on.

Ride of the Nazgul

Summoned from your bower in the bosom of the earth,

You rise to command the sky for He who waits,

While the frosted moon watches in secret rapture.

You soar, night-bitten through liquid air.

Beneath your eldritch form stretch leathern vanes,

Whole pulse is the heartbeat of newborn novae.

Beneath your ivory fingers, a cloak of pitch trails tattered banners through midnight airs,

Threadbare, blacker than the firmament at the darkening of the moon,

Blacker than the gulf between moribund worlds.

Your cry tears the sky: the scream of rusted iron on glass,

Its pitch a herald, an icy draught to freeze the hearts

Of those who dare oppose the will of the omnipotent.

A skyborne demon etched in charcoal.

Your will is His own.

*

I really shouldn't pretend to write poetry.