Your hair stand on end,
For the end is at hand,
You can not run,
For this son,
Shall no your fear,
With his fire eyes shall peer,
Consuming all you hold dear,
For alone he may steer,
When the clouds blot the sky,
We all shall die,
Unless she,
Born indeed,
Under certain sign,
By parents who hide,
Stands before the fury,
With no quarry,
Only love,
And a dove.
A contest entry
- Tell Me a Prophecy by FallenAngel09.
450 points, ended June 13, 2007, 11 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
Thank you so much for your entry into my contest, your talent and hardwork are very much appreciated. I was reading this poem and, though it is very short, i got extremely lost in the execution. The rhyming was a bit off and seemed to try to focus on words than what they actually meant. But, good luck and hope you do well.
Your Host,
Tiphanie -
Wow!!
Powerful piece my son and what images You have brought forth
Love this verse You have penned!
Wow!!
Thank You for sharing
Best wishes to You in the contest
Many blessings too
and much love~ Desire~*~
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