Iron Poet, Round XIII.
Welcome to the latest round of Iron Poet, the game where you give me three words and I give you a poem. This is an adaptation of a standard writer's workshop activity, and I do not claim the original concept. I just claim to enjoy doing it
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But rise when midnight shadows creep,
Are gone to grave and yet remain,
A final psalm, a last refrain,
Who haunt the hearts of those we keep.
Why should we fade? The night is deep,
We've sown our lives; it's time to reap,
And we have much yet to explain,
The restless dead.
We spread our hands, we lost who steep
In grief and memory, sunk deep
Into the ground, where we'll remain,
A testament to living's pain,
We shall not rest, we shall not sleep,
We restless dead.
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