Time worn keep of knuckle stone
Holds vigil though it sleeps
Pine root swallowed place that was
Where no grain grows to reap
A long lost age of blood and rain
The only tale it tells
Dark grey chunks of parapet
Lay silent where they fell
Forgotten are the curses
And their horrible weight
The dead are ever dreaming
Beneath it's yawning gate
The hold is with fog haunted
It waits for wheel to turn
No age is ever endless
The world just never learns.
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Author:
Quemis (
Offline) - Published: October 20th, 2025 17:51
- Comment from author about the poem: This poem doesn't mean anything. It is an aesthetic musing on a book from the 40s. Kind of dark fantasy before dark fantasy. I slightly changed the name of the keep, and wrote my vision of it.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 14
Offline)
Comments2
Indeed tis is so true (No are is ever endless) Loved the write although I have to admit that did not understand it all it seeming surreal.
Oh my... first read was a fog... second was striking clarity, like when the moon appears in a black hole in an otherwise cloudy night... the imagery is a bit dense but ultimately intensely clear. Time keeping vigil, roots covering ruins, curses gone silent and powerless... one question: Is Ormenghal a place?
Yea, I probably should have gave some context. I will add some.
By the way, good to see you are still kickin! was worried there for awhile.
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