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Kitin, Kitin
This is a poem I wrote a long time ago for “Poetry Night Contest” in Pyr. I tweaked it a little because I suck at Englihsh. It’s a parody of that popular W. Blake’s one.
The Kitin
Kitin, kitin, burning black,
In the shadows of the dark;
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful imagery?
In what darkened shoot or root,
Gleams the opal of thine suit?
On what coat dare we admire?
What the shell, the sheen sapphire?
In what nesting, which prime core?
Echo the chillness of thine roar?
And when thy roar began to break,
What dread claws? In what dread lake?
Where the water, what the goo?
In what soil was thy brew?
Whence moonbeam? On what sharp stick?
Dares its deadly terror pricks?
When Ma-Duk reined in his steed,
And watered Atys with his seeds.
Did he or Jena smile to see?
Did they who made the yubo made thee?
Kitin, kitin, burning black,
In the shadows of the dark;
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful imagery?
- Fyrx
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One Response to “Kitin, Kitin”
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August 27th, 2010 @ 12:54 pm
Whoo lovely imagery!