From wetlands deep he slunk, emerged
with all the marshlands in his grasp.
Marching west, his army surged
to cast out the people. So came the asp,
contempt in his hollow, ashen heart,
blind beasts in tow. They screech and bellow
his taken name, the seductive Carrow,
Bringer of Glory and breaker of hearts.
Without comprehension of war or death,
the people cowered, drew shallow breath
’til claws would drag them into the light
to shower blood into the moonlight.
May your pulsing beat burn hot and raw,
your eyes be peeled by crows. In awe
may I watch your torment, see you fall
and dance on your corpse, in vengeance for all.
So I didn’t follow this week’s Poetry Prompt too well, but I did enjoy this. The point was to write a spell, but this evolved into a story, and so a curse. Dark, but inspiring in a way. Maybe I’ll have another fantasy novel in here somewhere…