I've been writing since I was around eight years old.
Here you will find some examples of my poetry.
Whitney V.
THE BATTLE OF THE LAST ALLIANCE
Burning stones underneath.
Flaming sword drawn from sheath.
The world is struck with fire ablaze.
And covered in a distant haze.
The thumping of the boiling ground.
Screaming terror all around.
The silent gallop of the horses feet,
Blackened from the scorching heat.
Three of the hearts of men,
Came back to fight again and again.
One great of elves, his star did fall,
And rests now in the ancient hall.
In one great force to free us all,
One man of old, yet he did fall.
Anger of his son was shone,
As he risked his skin and bone.
The sword he stole from his fathers side,
Broken from the evil's stride.
He thrust it through the thickening air,
And a piercing scream shot through his ear.
A golden circlet of fire was thrust
Amid the defeated evil's dust.
A ring of power so great to behold,
Forged in the fire mountain of old.
Words were circled all around it,
In the black speech it was writ.
In Mordor this ring had found,
A brand new bearer to take the crown.
The son of the king kept the evil,
And trodded through the Gladden Fields.
And there an ambush of Orcs was made.
And there the son,the ring betrayed.
The son used its power to make him unseen
And jumped into the river,below the ravine.
There it slipped off ,
And there he was shot.
The ring fell into the great river Anduin,
And there it rests for years on end.
And there the evil was forgot,
Until a new bearer was sought.
Immortality, a prize above the rest,
To shut the door to ill disease,
And drown the bitter death.
Skin to bone, and muscles tensed, against a blood red sky,
Laughter screaming in our heads,
As we wait to die.
Grasping with our outstretched hands, groping, to never die,
To shut away the pain of death,
And watch it sail by.
A gift is given, from hell’s hate, to award your life of greed,
To give you what you want the most,
That which you’ll never need.
A light of black in saddened eyes, that sends the never death,
To make you live forever on;
Never take that one last breath.
A gift that’s given to selected few, as punishment for sin,
To preserve your body and appearance,
But kill you from within.
Ignorance overcomes sense, and knocks away all reason,
And sends us into happy joy,
That will live on through the seasons.
After a few hundred years, we begin to hear the sounds,
The calls of the souls of dead,
From the home we should have found.
Looks of fear, and shrieks of pain that slice open our skulls,
The Under cries, and breath of death,
The slow and longing lull.
The calling cries from death itself, begging for us to arrive,
How bad we want to reach to them,
And stand beside the lake of souls, and take the ending dive.
Oceans full of tears, and prisons full of hate,
Feelings breaking through the bars,
Recognizing our bitter fate.
Feet worn flat throughout the years, smooth as stone to touch,
Walking away from the end we feared,
But now long to see so much.
The undertow of forever, clinging to your life,
The cold, shearing steel,
Of the constant knife.
This sense of dread, and hate of life, begins to drive you mad,
Sends you into a glossy world,
Of memories you had.
A slight twitch of not quite right, a dash of dire need,
To express all gated in,
And spill the blood you need.
We kill to show that we should die, but choose the poor,
Insignificant and sad,
And watch the sin of what we’ve done in waves upon the sand.
We shunt you kings and queens, your glory of the lands,
We downsize the downhearted and kill the weary;
There is blood upon our hands.
You rule the kingdoms of your throne, bring order to the earth,
We rule the kingdoms of our hate,
And bring order to our mirth.
A slow and painful arrival comes, of the things that we have done,
We blankly stare at cold stone walls,
And becry the setting sun.
Our souls are on fire, our lives have turned to dust,
But still a light will make our dawn,
From the haze of dusk.
Each rising sun, brings each rising day,
To send the flames into our eyes,
And leave us to decay.
The blood of family, friends and foe, are grit upon our backs,
From watching death take its roll
From us, or normal life extract.
The passing of the souls, tunneling in the passage,
Going forward into peace, or punishment,
To send the formal message.
We watch through eyes long since dead, but wanting proclamation,
To tombstone weathered, but not there,
We want no more the earth to live in.
We die inside and live without, our souls are in decay,
We wished for immortality,
But never thought it would be this way.
The Immortals roam the earth, looking to each plain,
Longing for the forgotten fear of death,
To pass on or be slain.
The Immortals cared for none but them, but soon long for all,
Wishing to be just like them,
To someday breathe and fall.
The Immortals watch through weak, scared eyes,
That saw much more than they should,
They beg for forgiveness for it all, from their sins and evil lies.
The Immortals know there’s no way out, they’re forever stuck this way,
The wait for the world to end,
To finally leave someday.
The Immortals learned the gift of life, is not to be taken for granted,
Greed is a vicious seed,
That of which you’ve planted.
The Immortals know within their hearts, that want is but a waste,
Only ask for what you need,
To save you the pain and the torturing haste.
The Immortals know that greed is what immortality needs,
To survive inside your heads,
And destroy your sense of life, from which your soul should feed.
The Immortals know that it’s wrong, to live on and never die,
Death is your first commitment straight from birth,
And you should never wonder why.
Immortality, it truly is, a curse above the rest,
To watch all you care for finally die,
And remain all that’s left.
