The Balking Mire of Fanghandrath

The Balking Mire of Fanghandrath

 

‘Twas late when the misted veils

Suck and drew

‘pon the reeking fetters of claxon screams

Wailing echoed dismal to

 

Too late for lantern to pick a path

In the trickster passages

Of the boggish marsh

The Balking Mires of Fanghandrath

 

Where ‘oer the shake-ed sheaves domain

The Shadow Hunter was know to claim

The souls of less fortune given men

Or the eyes of the innocent

 

Aye ! They told the story well

Should the hunter of shadows

‘pon your path befall

would devour all in The Balking Mires of Fanghandrath

 

But needs must some they need

To prove their bravery

Of foolish men never seen again

Returning from the trickster paths of Fanghandrath

 

Of one such a man who’s courage by beer

Was made stalwart young and without fear

Through the haunted waste he dared to travel

When the misted veils suck and drew

 

Not yet half way there before the chill ate his bones

And from the rear the rushing fear

Did The Shadow Hunter draw ‘pon his heart

In noisome fog the Rake appeared

 

Too far to hear the sounds of screams

Too lost in the mazes of dead beaten reeds

To mouth-less to utter a prayer

And beseech the fate of balking mires

 

No wind it was the laugh, the laugh of Fanghandrath

The hunger of its desolate seed

To feed ‘pon the soul

Of innocent and less fortune given men

 

‘Twas not till dawn when he reached the rim

Ashen grey his youth had gone

And no shadow did he cast in morning sun

No shadow fall on The Balking Mires of Fanghandrath

 

 

 

 

 


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Published Date
5/20/2009 12:00:00 AM
Published In
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