“Seven days and seven nights; Isendjan! Isendjan! Seven ways to make it right; Isendjan! Isendjan! Pray and Pilgrimage and Rest, all of these a small request. Keep your shoes beneath your bed. Rejoice! But do not cover your head, Else will Babaroga hap To snatch your boots and bald your cap! Beware, beware, the Witch of Old. Forget not what has been foretold of Isendjan! Isendjan! Seven nights and seven days of Isendjan! Isendjan! The Mirror, the Hag, away aways!” PoetryWitchFantasy PoemFictional SongsFictional PoemBabarogaIsendjanSongs In Books Book:The Paragon Source: The Paragon
“The Witch of the Crater dove in and survived. The Witch of the Badlands bade mountains her hive. Devourer, Deceiver, Destroyer in one. No soul made it past her defenses alive. Where sand turns to craggy rock, turn back and run. Of body and blood, the Devourer leaves none.” WitchFantasy PoemCautionary TaleFictional SongsFantasy PoetryFictional PoemWitch Poems Book:The Paragon Source: The Paragon
“Deep in the desert, o’er painted rock hill, Once was an ocean aplenty until The Devourer emerged, the water was scourged. What should never have emptied nevermore would fill. Deep in the desert, ‘neath painted rock hill, The thwarted one waits for the levee to fill. The witch drank it dries, the crow stole her eyes, so she usurped its body and took to the skies. Deep in the desert o’er painted rock hill, The crow hag thirsts when the stormclouds refill. The crow drinks them dry, the hag tarries by, but not a drop descends from the grey desert sky. Deep in the desert ‘neath painted rock hill, The crow plots its descent into the anthill. The ants–unawares–have forgotten their prayers. The Devourer remembers and hungers still.” WitchFantasy PoemCautionary TaleFictional SongsFantasy PoetryFictional PoemBabarogaCreepy PoetryFictional Poetry Book:The Paragon Source: The Paragon
“THE ANTHEM OF HOPE Tiny footprints in mud, metal scraps among thistles Child who ambles barefooted through humanity’s war An Elderflower in mud, landmines hidden in bristles Blood clings to your feet, your wee hands stiff and sore You who walk among trenches, midst our filth and our gore Box of crayons in hand, your tears tumble like crystals Gentle, scared little boy, at the heel of Hope Valley, The grassy heel of Hope Valley. And the bombs fall-fall-fall Down the slopes of Hope Valley Bayonets cut-cut-cut Through the ranks of Hope Valley Napalm clouds burn-burn-burn All who fight in Hope Valley, All who fall in Hope Valley. Bullets fly past your shoulder, fireflies light the sky Child who digs through the trenches for his long sleeping father You plant a kiss on his forehead, and you whisper goodbye Vain corpses, brave soldiers, offered as cannon fodder Nothing is left but a wall; near its pallor you gather Crayon ready, you draw: the memory of a lie Kind, sad little boy, sketching your dream of Hope Valley Your little dream of Hope Valley. Missiles fly-fly-fly Over the fields of Hope Valley Carabines shoot-shoot-shoot The brave souls of Hope Valley And the tanks shell-shell-shell Those who toiled for Hope Valley, Those who died for Hope Valley. In the light of gunfire, the little child draws the valley Every trench is a creek; every bloodstain a flower No battlefield, but a garden with large fields ripe with barley Ideations of peace in his dark, final hour And so the child drew his future, on the wall of that tower Memories of times past; your tiny village lush alley Great, brave little boy, the future hope of Hope Valley The only hope of Hope Valley. And the grass grows-grows-grows On the knolls of Hope Valley Daffodils bloom-bloom-bloom Across the hills of Hope Valley The midday sun shines-shines-shines On the folk of Hope Valley On the dead of Hope Valley From his Aerodyne fleet The soldier faces the carnage Uttering words to the fallen He commends their great courage Across a wrecked, tower wall A child’s hand limns the valley And this drawing speaks volumes Words of hope, not of bally He wipes his tears and marvels The miracle of Hope Valley The only miracle of Hope Valley And the grass grows-grows-grows Midst all the dead of Hope Valley Daffodils bloom-bloom-bloom For all the dead of Hope Valley The evening sun sets-sets-sets On the miracle of Hope Valley The only miracle of Hope Valley (lyrics to "the Anthem of Hope", a fictional song featured in Louise Blackwick's Neon Science-Fiction novel "5 Stars".” Inspirational QuotesNeon Science FictionWar And GenocideFictional SongsAnthem Of Humanity5starsAnthem Of HopeLouiseblackwickPowerful Song Book:5 Stars Source: 5 Stars