Old File I Found

Failure

To the deep mountain forest I have come,
And to the glorious muse I pray,
That my words might dance to Pan’s pipes and drum.

I sit upon the highest rock.
The hazy blue sky encircles me,
And to me the mountain spirits flock.

Is this where dryads live?
Is it here that the faerie-kin play?
Is this where the nymphs of the trees...
What’s that squirrel doing?
Never mind… Where was I?

I listen to the eternal song of sweet Persephone.
Her enchanting melody elevates me through the forest,
And allows me to touch the souls of every tree.

In my trance I stare away into the depth of the wood,
And I feel the spirits of the animals that reside within,
The fox, the deer, the bear, the wolf, the hawk, the owl …a squirrel…
Go away!

It is from my enlightened seat,
That I view the many wonders of this ancient grove.
Anxiously, the secrets of the forest I greet.

What perfect thought does the pine’s whisper convey?
It sings a hymn against the cruel encroachment of the city,
Their concrete tombs block even the light of day.

For it is in these earthen depths in which the Old Gods hide,
The King in Yellow, the Man of the Silver Mountain,
And the venerable Lord Oberon here reside.

They call to me to join their court,
To declare me their Knight Errant,
And to make the lives of their squirrel
- damn it- enemies short,

They bid me to save the gods’ great grove.
To protect their hallowed halls from the engines of man,
For to them it is nothing but a banal treasure trove.

Then in the bushes below something moves,
Is it bold Satyrane come to hold palaver with me?
No, it is that stupid squirrel again.

The spell is broken,
I realize my ass has gone numb.
I am cold and hungry.
All I have to show for my trouble is some pretty words and no truth.
I’m going home.

Damn squirrel…



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This was just an expression of my distain for certain forms of poetry that I made for my creative writing class. Figgered I might as well post it. I've been deleting files and I stumbled across it.