Death asleep
was soon disturbed
amidst his gloomy dreams
by a brilliant,
flashing hand
afire with golden beams.
It was the voice
of Him who rose
upon a Sunday morn
that voiced the shout
of eschaton
and blew the waking horn.
Arise! he said.
Arise! Make haste!
Your slumber has expired.
Your fortune
now awaits you, Fiend,
a future writ in fire.
The Death-ghost
shook his cobweb locks
and blinked his heavy eyes,
stood and lumbered
toward the door
with deep and ancient sighs.
Through the portal
he advanced,
obeying Christ's demand.
He disappeared
and so released
the captive, spell-bound band.
Then death was gone,
asleep no more,
consumed in waking fire.
And resurrected saints
they sang
God's praise, a morning choir!
7 comments:
Please publish a book. Not under an Adventist publisher, either. Through whatever means your words can reach more people.
(Not that I have anything against Adventist publishing houses, but they only reach a small audience!)
But your poetry is beautiful, Kessia!
Thank you, Harmony :) I'm sure my amateur poetry would come up short under the scrutinizing eye of people who know about that kind of stuff, but I like writing it anyway. It helps me "know" things, you know? ;)
this is amazing!!!
Yeah! Sometimes the sequels aren't as good as the first one, but this one has the BEST ending! It makes me really excited! :)
funny poetry is easy. serious poetry is hard.
Write a book.
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