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Rated: E · Poetry · Fantasy · #1207749
A poem i wrote without lifting my pen. I kept writing until I felt I'd finished the poem.
The jungle was quiet, the people slept
Their spirits so happy, no one wept
Off in the distance rang havoc so near
A fog was drifting over the frontier

There finally was a Glimmer, the golden sun rose
From sleeping together, they returned from the doze
They looked in the distance, the cloud seemed so near
Something about this cloud tore them with fear

As the fog rolled in, the men were on their way
A few old stragglers stayed for the day
The ones who stayed were sure to pass
The men who walked were meant to last

As the fog rolled closer two figures appeared
In front of the fog they treacherously sneered
As more and more men arose from the fog
The men stopped walking to begin to jog

As whispers of pain and cries of despair…
Choked and fluttered in the horrid summer air…
The living ran faster and kept on ahead
Startlingly close behind was this fog of the dead

The men were all cornered in a steep, rocky trench
The deads’ evil voices made jaws begin to clench
The men sure tried, they tried hard to survive
But the fog is unbeatable, it leaves no one alive

© Copyright 2007 Brandon M. (pandemoniumnow at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1207749-The-Jungle