Ancient Art

Where patience spilled like dry river 
Whirling wind makes the ground quiver 
An ancient art hidden for long 
Comes back like echo in a song 

Where vengeance rages to break free 
On ground that hides the savage spree 
The furious sky's growing so dim 
Roused by the cry of muffled scream 

The pleading sound of chiming call 
Casts the blow of a wrecking ball 
Ancient spirits come to the aid 
Like the edge of a swinging blade 

At the hit of the whistling blow 
Mountains will fall, be high or low 
The wind will cast the deathly blast 
To burn the tyrant's crown to dust
Copyright © | Year Posted 2023

Poem

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Be the first to comment on this poem. Encourage this poet.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace