Ganda

As gauntlets clashed, shrilly 

Treehouse on the hill, freely

Watching worlds below, contentedly 

Flags, falls, staff mash

Potatoes, heavily roared in boars fat hash

Brown knight clambering mud of moars, he flaps

Sanguine feeling flowing from my eyes, he soon departs

He will feed this tree, as he rots, as will we all

Ages will pass and its bark grows grey, smash with yellow hey

Ganda, that’s it’s name

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s