Shaunna Harper Shaunna Harper
Recommendations: 35

So far so good Allen, but I think you might wanna include some punctuation. I've noticed that with a lot of your poetry,the descriptions and the style as a whole is AMAZING but the lack of commas and full stops means it's difficult to read and sometimes takes away from the beauty of the read. Just a suggestion :)

Shaunna Harper Shaunna Harper
Recommendations: 35

It's/its, confused about the comma at the end of the word....

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Allen Clarke Allen Clarke
Recommendations: 18

The Ancient

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I don`t often write in the style of the ancient scribes, but..what the hey! But I do often touch on those things which are not easily tangible to our natural senses.Forgive  me for waxing in archaic terms.In terms of the sorry state we humans are in presently, I couldn`t resist.Danchushein!

These things which were born
out of the womb of conflicting nature
as to be so evil as to question
the very thing which gave them life
is a mystery without answer

They traverse the wind and the starry night
to wreak havoc on this morally rumpled plane
of existence which bears the pain
of their rudely disruptive
plots to cast shadow of doubt
on The One who sits on the orb
of planet Earth..No, not merely an anthill
teeming with life abundant above measure
but the crowning jewel of His creation 1 comment

Who or what dares to grapple with The Strength
of this august Being who holds the breath
of every living thing in the cup of his hand
Those dead spirits rise and fall
under the irresistable wave of his power
His eyes like lazers consume and sets the night on fire
where the ancient evil cannot breathe

Still the evil refuses to die before its`time
It lives again and again
To spread its`grief on unsuspecting Man
like butter is spread on jam
And, my, my, my..what a fine jam we are in
Look no further than the twist and turn of seasonal change
Nature is no more the king it used to be 1 comment

Spring becomes summer before the fully flowered leave has come to be
the fowl of the air take their flight in confused disarray
winter shows its`mystic face in places
shocked to see its`blanket white
the earth rumbles within its` molten core
like a green apple rotting on the vine

And what kind of a world
will our babies have when we are gone?
will the ancient evil have its`way?
for what can a man do but pray for a better day
I know, I know it will be as a man who seeks to stop
a runaway train with the heel of his boot
still, one must have hope and some measure of faith

And I will close with this last refrain
not to worry about that terrible train
for He is in His Heaven and even the Ancient evil
cannot withstand the Power he holds
in the kingdom of men and nature itself bows at His feet
sleep now till morning light peers through
the velvet of night
All will be peace
as the final curtain falls
on this last blasting age of Rage

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