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Beneath The Frozen Wastes
In the frozen lands of constant night
lies a putrid, long forgotten blight.
A fetid, fettered ghoulish Geist,
who chafes his chains beneath the ice.
In the world he craves no bells shall ring.
No flowers shall bloom, no birds shall sing.
And when his ancient bindings fail,
his centuries of rage will loose a wail.
And the fury in his eyes of steel,
shall make the sun turn back in fear.
And when it’s done he’ll lie and sleep.
His eternal purpose is complete.
And no one will cry, and no one will laugh,
in his heaven of eternal black.
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When I wrote this I first came up with the line "A fetid, fettered ghoulish Geist". I liked the line and so I expanded the poem from there in a way that I thought fit with the tone of that line. Geist is a German word for a ghost or spirit.