Grey ogre.
the frozen winds,
formed into clouds,
fall on the hills,
an embrace of lust,
as the cold mist,
like ripe yeast,
flows down the slope,
chasing downhill all hope,
of the day warming up,
so time drags by,
and the fires don't die,
nor do the children cry,
because the chill,
enslaves all,
in obeying it's damp will,
thus all effort is spent,
in the determined fight,
against the frosty mist.
Poet:Tatalia.
about the poem
This poem,just like my other poem 'hail the queen',is a composition on the subject 'mist'.The difference is that in the grey ogre mist is potrayed as a bad thing,a chilly,order disturbing enemy that ought to be fought.It dampens the spirits and even holds hostage time as time seems to drag in a misty day,the reason being that one can't wait to see the skies clear!I've always been awed by natural phenomena,but mist tops that list,perhaps because i discovered it when very young having grown up in the hills,or more likely,because like all poets,I find its obvious beauty and ugliness a mysterious clash of qualities.
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