4 little poems

Mayhem Black Flower

Out deep in the forest, far and wide, there blooms a rose at vast mountains side. The weed so fair, so small and appealing to eye, its unnatural complexion alluring. From long distance It might appear dead with its dark as night peddles. But if you got close how wrong you would be. Odd as it is that a flower would be black but nevertheless, beauty it does not lack. It was very much alive. Its folded peddles droop down as the morning dew drips to the ground. What an attractive sight this was, for such a thing was rare to the world and could not be found in house or field, and for that I can give a reason. For although the rose is beautiful it is not to be touched, not to be picked in any season. If you were to unsettle the soil in which it grows, a spirit of the forest would come up from below. The spirit black like blossom it guarded, tall and thin, long rigid arms that reached almost to the ground. Hands large with what looked like fingers of glass. White eyes that glow, its whole body was wreathed in a pitch-black smoke. If you were the disturber of this land of old, let there be warning and a tale to be told. If you disrupt this soil and pick a rose for your pleasure your punishment that will be delt will be without measure. This spirit will come, it will not rest, until it has found you and drug you down to the depths. In every tale told there is a lesson to learn, if you see this plant while you walk on your path, away you should turn to avoid the spirits wrath.

Hang-man Tree

There are many trees that blow in the breeze. Many a tree that lives and are free. And if they could smile it would be a look worthwhile. A comforting and sturdy vessel where together any birds would Nestle. And when they would wake, they would perch and look out by the lake. But there was one tree at the edge of the Moor that bore no fruit, no leaves, and was eaten to its core. And where it's Limbs creaked no sound was leaked, not a Russell, not a shriek, no, not one little peep. At least, until the night fell, when would break out the hideous sounds of hell. And then would go silent in fear any night bird that sang. Down by the wooden husk where men would hang.

Imagination

There is a place where I go to get away, and when I get there, I want to forever stay. But when I get to the gates of this wonderful place, the dark knights of Kingdom Obligation wait there to stop my pace. Sometimes they force me to turn back, but confidence to push past them I don't not lack. But there I have one more thing that stands in my way. When I open the gates there are many paths on which to stray.

Shore Curse

The moon sits on its perch in the galaxy and looks down at the beach where no one dares to be. Any seasoned man who lives near this place will tell the tale. How any being who ventures there, will disappear near this "water dale". The large beach sinks into the sea. Where stick out; rocks, and pieces of old broken debris. When night falls a dark vail is cast. No refection is now seen across the ocean vast. As far as the eye can see there is nothing but a black foggy abyss. If you were to travel the world you would never see anything comparable this. No one knows, why here was set a curse, opinions of the people remain diverse. If a man does not keep his way, under that sandy curse he will stay. Forever that day the man would rue. And if you don't keep your feet, you might disappear too.

Note: None of these are actually legends or folklore. these are things I made up for entertainment