This is an open folder for poems, and anyone can participate, but there is a simple rule! All poems must be original, written by the poster. So that means that you cannot take someone elses poem and post it here. The poem must be by you, no exceptions. The reason for this is simple, we have alot of great talent out there writing stories, so why not spice the forum up a little.
Genny of the Lilies By John Miller Copy write 2000
When I was a tiny lad, the tales I was told They'd raise the hair upon your neck, and turn your blood ice cold. Old wives tales of warning. to be heeded and obeyed Less evil fall upon you, and whisk your soul away.
Now Genny of the Lilies. is a mothers tale of woe Eight sons she sent off to sea, one by one they did go. And like an ancient tragedy, each young man perished away, So down to the river Genny went, and made it her watery grave
But even in eternal sleep, her heart could no peace find. So she made a pact with a Devil, to last for all time For one last chance her sons to see, and bid the each farewell She gave her spirit to the Beast, and Damned herself to Hell.
Genny of the Lilies, hidden beneath the lily pads Full of grief and of torment, she became a Water Hag. Waiting on some innocent to come near the reeds Fulfilling her evil vows, by way of murderous deeds.
Now me mother often warned me, to the pond do not go For under the lilied surface, an Evil lurks below. She'll grab you by the ankles, and drag you deep, deep down, And her dark murky lair, you will surely drown.
But I was a headstrong lad, and I would have my way. So down to the wading pond I went, no matter mothers say In the muddy shallow edge, I hunted things that crept And in my childish arrogance, I awoke the terror that slept.
I hunted the frog, I hunted the snail, til the sun went low, And unbeknownst to me, I was hunted, By the witch below. Never a wave did she make, no sounds did I hear, No sign of danger was ever gave, to ever make me fear.
And that which me mother told me, surely it was right, For Genny grabbed me by my ankle, and pulled with all her might. Memories were before me, my short life was before my eyes, And it was as me mother said, You will surely die.
I don't remember when they found me or even where, On that an Angel came and took me into the air. Genny of the Lilies, she claimed my little soul, And left me mother weeping, full of tears and woe.
Genny of the Lilies By John Miller Copy write 2000
When I was a tiny lad, the tales I was told They'd raise the hair upon your neck, and turn your blood ice cold. Old wives tales of warning. to be heeded and obeyed Less evil fall upon you, and whisk your soul away.
Now Genny of the Lilies. is a mothers tale of woe Eight sons she sent off to sea, one by one they did go. And like an ancient tragedy, each young man perished away, So down to the river Genny went, and made it her watery grave
But even in eternal sleep, her heart could no peace find. So she made a pact with a Devil, to last for all time For one last chance her sons to see, and bid the each farewell She gave her spirit to the Beast, and Damned herself to Hell.
Genny of the Lilies, hidden beneath the lily pads Full of grief and of torment, she became a Water Hag. Waiting on some innocent to come near the reeds Fulfilling her evil vows, by way of murderous deeds.
Now me mother often warned me, to the pond do not go For under the lilied surface, an Evil lurks below. She'll grab you by the ankles, and drag you deep, deep down, And her dark murky lair, you will surely drown.
But I was a headstrong lad, and I would have my way. So down to the wading pond I went, no matter mothers say In the muddy shallow edge, I hunted things that crept And in my childish arrogance, I awoke the terror that slept.
I hunted the frog, I hunted the snail, til the sun went low, And unbeknownst to me, I was hunted, By the witch below. Never a wave did she make, no sounds did I hear, No sign of danger was ever gave, to ever make me fear.
And that which me mother told me, surely it was right, For Genny grabbed me by my ankle, and pulled with all her might. Memories were before me, my short life was before my eyes, And it was as me mother said, You will surely die.
I don't remember when they found me or even where, On that an Angel came and took me into the air. Genny of the Lilies, she claimed my little soul, And left me mother weeping, full of tears and woe.