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Adam Latham Sep 2014
No life left,
The fire has almost gone.
Light fades
To shades,
The dark advances on.
The creeping gloom,
The pressing weight of fear
That once the torch held back
Starts to draw near.
I will the flame,
My final flickering friend,
Do not die,
Do not die,
Lest into black I blend.
#Torch
Adam Latham Sep 2014
King Neptune sat upon his saline throne
And cried out loud to all the sea drenched sway,
"More sport, more sport" he yelled unto his own,
"That I might ease the boredom brought this day.
You, Dolphin, bring your wisdom unto me
And pray tell of that light, that coastal hue
Which cuts the dark asunder to my sea,
'Cross leaden skies to blind us all we few."

A hastening fin and quickly to his place,
The wise old Dolphin, gripped with fear and awe,
Bowed solemnly, then with a gentle grace
Explained what shone upon his master's shore.
"The glare, those slicing beams that shine at night
Warn pending doom to all who sail to near,
The jagged teeth of rocks are such a sight
To instil e'en the hardest men with fear.

Men's hands, those mortal gems the gods employ,
Have seized upon the danger of it all,
And built a structure warning of the ploy
Of all Sea Lords to bring about their fall.
And so the Lighthouse, named with ample sense,
Can only mean a blasphemy to thee,
So sailors can quite safely trespass hence
From port to port, unto the open sea."

(Neptune)
"No more! My once cool spirit rages hot
And boils a fury charring to the bone,
I see the House of Human has forgot
That they are ours, amusing us alone.
We Gods, we masters of their finite lives
Demand their will, their thoughts, their breathing souls,
To serve without regret our divine hives
With worship, prayer, and swinging incense bowls.

Strange feeling, 'tis the curdling of my blood,
The clotting of my rage to pure disdain,
Revenge is stoked where once pure anger stood,
Enough to charge mankind to think again.
Come trident keeper, serve my thrice pronged arm
And gird my ***** with implements of war,
The time has come to use such lethal charm
That foolish men like these cannot ignore.

A bellowed word, the tide is at my tongue
And wave on wave is mercy to my feet,
Children of the sea rise up in song
And on the Lighthouse moorings thrash and beat.
Seek victory, seize woe upon that hill
And raze in moistened load their pillared sin,
My kingdom shall devour this bitter pill,
'Til it shall be as if it had not been."

On land a Priest, Tiberius by name,
A servant to the Goddess of the Hunt,
Meanwhile had climbed the saturated frame
To view with nonchalance the ocean front.
These seven days had seen Diana's shrine
Find several hundred pilgrims on its plot,
And feeling soon the strains of the divine
Had hoped the walk would ease his troubled lot.

Upon the coast he'd found this Titan's torch
When from his daily burdens he had fled,
A walk one hour from the lunar porch
Where tithes were paid and healing prayers were said.
And from the top he surveyed all the world
Around about, inland and to the sea,
And marvelled at the way the water curled
Itself onto the shore so constantly.

Though mesmerised, his senses were not dulled,
A sound, a buzz, a percolating hum
Fell on his ears until his eyes were pulled
To ripples forming in the salty ****.
A tremor was the herald he surmised
For one whose habitation was the sea,
But even then what 'rose before his eyes
Was something that he thought would never be.

A giant crowned with royal ornament
And plates of golden armour on his chest,
Reared up out of the depths in quick movement
Which saw the waves removed and pulled abreast.
A thunderclap and lightening bolts galore
Along with all the earthquakes there could be,
Made our heroic priest fear all the more
As Neptune stood astride the choppy sea.

The stature of a God cannot be ruled,
But here Tiberius measured a mile,
From sandalled feet to head and hair bejewelled
With water droplet gems set regal style.
He noticed that this ocean deity
Well placed amongst the swells of his domain,
Now roll his eyes towards him hatefully
And bellow words the skies could not contain.

"Six nights in seven I have seen the light
From this abomination cast a spell,
And give to those that would not have insight,
A knowledge of the coastal rocks that dwell.
Tonight I will destroy it piece by piece
And reclaim once again the water's grave,
The perils of my realm will then increase
And men of ships I once more shall enslave.
I call upon all life of which I rule
And Mother Nature's elemental froth,
Join with me in the use of anger's tool,
Tear down each brick with undiluted wrath!"

Tiberius was quick in his reply,
His nerves suppressed to give a hardened look,
Inside a churning stomach would not lie
Yet somehow courage managed this rebuke,
" I care not for the wars of Gods and Men,
But hearken Neptune, hear this heartfelt pledge,
Strike not your hand against this lighted den
For by that action you would cross the edge.
The earth beneath my feet is holy ground
And sanctioned sacred at the throne of Jove,
I prayed my blessing when I heard the sound,
That ****** of rushing water in your grove."

The Sea God boomed displeasure with a roar
That pierced the cooling air with heated might,
A calmness quickly soothed him to the core
Though whitened knuckles gripped his trident tight.
"How can this be from one whose station's known
To beg the favour of the King of Kings,
Your faith is to one God and one alone
And subject only to the gift she brings.
I do not recognise the swift dictate
You prayed unto my brother in the heights,
Your life is therefore forfeit to The Fates,
As I condemn to death your house of lights."

No more was said but actions stole the words
Before Tiberius could speak again,
This Sea Lord with his head amongst the birds
Now caused the air to turn, the sky to rain.
He strode towards the object of his ills
With nothing but contempt within his eyes,
Incanting as he went the magic frills
Positions such as his can realise.

And so our priest expecting deaths divide
To halt the smooth meander of his life,
Stood firm with very little hope inside
That something could release him from this strife.
With quickened breath he ****** the salty air
To calm a body gripped with cold and fear,
His final thoughts would be in silent prayer,
Preparing for the end that drew so near.

The wind blew stronger and the rain lashed down,
A mix of spray and torrents from the sky,
The wet had found his priestly robes and gown
And now they clung unlike when they were dry.
One footstep, two, three more and then no light,
As all of Neptune's bulk eclipsed the sun,
The Lighthouse trembled in the pseudo night,
Lo Judgment Day for our brave priest had come.

And so the scene, a God engulfed with rage
About to battle mortar, brick, and bone,
Freed from the bonds of his salt water cage
By mortal acts that he could not condone.
With one hand raised and trident poised to strike,
The King of all the Oceans took his aim,
And without pause he loosed the three pronged pike
So that it flew unhindered to the game.
It did not falter, neither did it swerve
Nor did it slow by friction of the air,
But straight and true, devoid of any curve
It sailed towards the Lighthouse that was there.

And all Tiberius could do was watch
And wait the lethal throw by Neptune's hand,
Closer and closer, ready to dispatch
His sorry soul to Pluto's hallowed land.
In seconds all he knew of life on Earth
Would perish at the will of the divine,
And that which had been granted his from birth
Would disappear into the sands of time.
Adam Latham Sep 2014
Dance fairy, fairy bright,
What a truly happy sight,
Let those tiny feet away
To a place of fun and play.
Make your wings of silver hue
Take you to the lily zoo,
To the courts of croaking kings,
Where the handsome Frog Prince sings.

Dance dance fairy, fairy bright
Skip across the clouds so light,
Jump as far as skyward can,
Higher higher little man.
Glide upon the rush of air
With the birds that fly up there,
And when all the playing's done
Take those wings and fly back home.
#fairy
Adam Latham Sep 2014
Would that I could remember her face,
Her glorious smile and feminine grace,
And would that I could a memory stir
To recall the days that I spent with her.

Would that I could her sweet scent approve,
To wallow in each fragrant curve,
And would that I could feel kisses like rain
That she used to give me again and again.

Would that I could her gossamer hair
Upon my pillow find it there,
And would that I could time's barrier move
To once more have her as my love.
#love
Adam Latham Sep 2014
Not so soon
Dark Moon,
Let us enjoy awhile
Your pleasant smile.
Adam Latham Sep 2014
Far over the mumbling Mountains of Moan
Where blazing hot Firebirds are nurtured and flown,
Through silver veined canyons and mines filled with gold
By Dwarves in their halls seeking riches untold.

There lives by the side of a babbling brook,
Buried deep in the earth, in it's own special nook,
Underneath a quite small yet conspicuous knoll,
Hidden from prying eyes is the home of a Troll.

Alone in his cavern of amethyst ore,
He sleeps undisturbed with a grunt and a snore,
And makes the ground tremble with dream induced growls
That fly up with spit from his thick flapping jowls.

The floor all around is a sea of gnawed bones
Stained pink by the light from those crystalline stones,
That shimmer and sparkle like miniature storms
Left raging for aeons in mineral forms.

His slow beating heart sounds a deep thumping boom
That scythes through the half light and twinkling gloom,
By which, if you look in the cold that persists,
The Troll's heavy breath funnels up into mists.

A great iron club with its spots of rust red
Stands upright and ready close by to his bed,
The Troll's hairy fingers draped over his prize
To ****** at the hilt should the instant arise.

One beady eye open, the other shut fast,
Only the foolhardy would dare to creep past,
Wake him at your peril, no need to surmise,
You will meet a brutal and violent demise.

A wrinkled behemoth with rings through his nose,
The truth of his origin, nobody knows,
Some say Trolls were spawned at the dawn of the world
When primeval magics and such swished and swirled.

While others less fanciful look to the West
Where dark Elvish wizards in black arts invest,
The wrong incantation performed on a man
Is rumoured to be how the Troll race began.
#Troll
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