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Ode to a Sentinel
thetookybird
✭✭
It's #WorldPoetryDay
So, uh, here's some poem I wrote to go along with a story some friends and I came up with while playing ESO. Yeah, we're huge nerds, I know.
And yes, it is definitely inspired by Keats' La Belle Dame Sans Merci. Again, huge nerd.
O - what can ail thee, lonely Sentinel?
So desperate, woe begone.
The ripples are upon the lake
and Fate doth come.
O what can ail thee, mighty Lord?
Man of shadow, prideful being.
The task is calling, calling you
to hang upon a string.
I saw a Dragon in the heaths,
man of pride - of fire and fate.
His eyes calm, his visage stone
By his sword did shadows quake.
I heard the winds calling me,
o'er heath, and o'er the dales.
In the hands of a wild man, - it came,
a wind-swept heart held to fail.
I met a lady in the moors,
Full beautiful - a vengeful Fate.
Her hair was gold, her gaze was scorn,
in her words were flame.
I felt the wilds in my heart,
Beasts of men, and men of beasts.
O - how it raced to hear the cries,
to piercing silver, lunar beams.
Yet I know ; the crows do call.
Hear their cries upon the land.
What Fate doth wait, where shall we go?
Save toward the bitter end.
So, uh, here's some poem I wrote to go along with a story some friends and I came up with while playing ESO. Yeah, we're huge nerds, I know.
And yes, it is definitely inspired by Keats' La Belle Dame Sans Merci. Again, huge nerd.
O - what can ail thee, lonely Sentinel?
So desperate, woe begone.
The ripples are upon the lake
and Fate doth come.
O what can ail thee, mighty Lord?
Man of shadow, prideful being.
The task is calling, calling you
to hang upon a string.
I saw a Dragon in the heaths,
man of pride - of fire and fate.
His eyes calm, his visage stone
By his sword did shadows quake.
I heard the winds calling me,
o'er heath, and o'er the dales.
In the hands of a wild man, - it came,
a wind-swept heart held to fail.
I met a lady in the moors,
Full beautiful - a vengeful Fate.
Her hair was gold, her gaze was scorn,
in her words were flame.
I felt the wilds in my heart,
Beasts of men, and men of beasts.
O - how it raced to hear the cries,
to piercing silver, lunar beams.
Yet I know ; the crows do call.
Hear their cries upon the land.
What Fate doth wait, where shall we go?
Save toward the bitter end.
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