Fall From Heaven Poetry

[Soda7777777]

So guys, how about this. I decided to write an epic poem about Fall From Heaven. I started talking about the Godswar, and how there's all this never ending destruction. Than I talked about how they made peace, but still somewhat interact with the world. Then I started talking about how Cassiel leaves the Heavens, because he believe that the Gods should have no interaction with the mortal realms. I might add more to the beginning, and talk about how the One created the Angels and such.

The War that seemed so long
It never was to end
At a time when everyone was wrong
No one was able to mend
But at the great length, grew fear
They came together, high above
Many things they did hear
Amatheon did show much love
Agares did show great hate
At long last they agreed
What to be done with fate
They decided they would leave

The Gods war now it did end
War from now on
Was fought by mortal men
The compact was now strong
The Heavens high above them here
The Burning Hell down bellow
Could not interfere
It was well known
Though few amongst them
Would challenge this
Cassiel fled this wind
No longer on Hevean's list

For Cassiel now sought to leave
The Service of his God
They refused to fully flee
Mortal men to their odds
The Gods were wrong
To remain at o so small
And Influence long
It would lead to a fall
He went to the mortal realm
Gathered men, thought he right
They would follow his helm
Twas to bring men so high

 

[ori]

Moderator Action: moved to FfH subforum

 

[DarkxL0rd]

Why??

 

[Lutefisk Mafia]

There once was a man from Kwythellar,
who lived in a run-down root cellar,
All the people he met
were willing to bet
that he was wrong in the head, but a fine feller.

 

[Breunor]

Wow Soda, that's pretty good. I can't write 4 lines of poetry!

Best wishes,

Breunor

 

[Soda7777777]

Why??

Cause I love writing poetry, and we need an epic poem about FFH.

 

[Lone Wolf]

There once was a man from Kwythellar,

We're doing limericks now? Good! Only they should make the "dark" in "dark fantasy" shine, like this:

There once was a Sheaim Witch
Who liked to lay in a ditch,
When she lied in it,
One Beast from the Pit
Consumed the unfortunate witch.

There once was a Bannor Crusader
Who always hated all traders,
He caused to bleed
All these "servants of Greed",
So intolerant was the Crusader.

 

[Deon]

There once was a girl prone to fuss
Who liked to rub her earlaps.
She rubbed them so hard
They started to flap
And thus elves appeared on Erebus.

Hehe, my english poetry sucks so hard .

 

[Azhral]

Roses are Red
Violets are Blue
Most Rhymes Rhyme
But this one doesn't.

 

[Deon]

April wind wails in docks;
Black Crows fly in circles,
A city is dead.

Haiku .

 

[ornom0n]

I welcome you to us
fresh part of the show.
Perpentach greets you warmly
so tell us your wish:
do not seek to beguile
to pray for amusement
or just live for a while?

Perpentach ololol

 

[Soda7777777]

Well so far I'v written about 200 lines for my epic poem. It'll be so badass when I finish.

 

[Onionsoilder]

Sorta been working on this for the past couple days. Just random thoughts here and there that combined into an interesting, if slightly morbid, poem.

The march of the dead means the end of the light.
Most will flee from this terrible sight.
Yet some will try their best to fight.
It marks the start of the First Blight.

These heroes lives shall be given in vain.
And all shall be slain.
Then brutally maimed.
Nothing left but their remains.

And so begins the age of Necromancy.
The stongest mages have the largest armies.
Forces strong enough to level entire cities.
This age will be the last to go down in the histories.

For all the knowledge of the arcane they have to show,
These foolish men do not yet know,
The darkness in their souls continues to grow.
Till they can no longer tell friend from foe.

It is this darkness that opens the gate
For demons of old, black as slate
To enter the world and unleash their hate
To save the world, it is already too late.

 

[Soda7777777]

Sorta been working on this for the past couple days. Just random thoughts here and there that combined into an interesting, if slightly morbid, poem.

The march of the dead means the end of the light.
Most will flee from this terrible sight.
Yet some will try their best to fight.
It marks the start of the First Blight.

These heroes lives shall be given in vain.
And all shall be slain.
Then brutally maimed.
Nothing left but their remains.

And so begins the age of Necromancy.
The stongest mages have the largest armies.
Forces strong enough to level entire cities.
This age will be the last to go down in the histories.

For all the knowledge of the arcane they have to show,
These foolish men do not yet know,
The darkness in their souls continues to grow.
Till they can no longer tell friend from foe.

It is this darkness that opens the gate
For demons of old, black as slate
To enter the world and unleash their hate
To save the world, it is already too late.

Well you're style is exactly the type of poetry that was meant for this thread. I like you're theme, kinda reminds me of a Lovecraft poem I read a while back.