Home: Poetry: Ivy McKnight: Fire Bred
Smoke hung in the air like a blanket to cover the dead,
Fed on small spears of flame still dancing on blackened bodies,
Lives used as food for a hungry god like a dragonís eye,
To watch over his land of the haunted like a guardian on high,
Shadow what destruction reigns inside the soul of terror,
As outside where confusion lie in heaps of tangled cinder.
Shimmer silver obscures the air to see right through the clutter,
High beams folded somberly on tears of ancient pillars,
A monument to disarray the day that plight was wakened,
Innocents scattered endlessly across a grieving nation,
Religion stirs an angry fate to breed a land forsaken,
For in the light of godly peace so many lives were taken.

All copyrights are acknowledged and those remain the property of the owners. Also these pages contain my opinions (unless otherwise specified), and thus, does not reflect the beliefs of others. The Garden of the Black Rose and its related pages are copyrighted (c)1998 by Ivy McKnight .