Serengeti Fire

I’ve written poetry from a young age. It’s not always been fantastic, to say the least. I started when I was approximately thirteen, entering my ever embarassing emo phase, so a lot of it was, typically, about wolves, and sadness, and the never ending call of the void. Yeah, I won’t be sharing any of that.

But I thought you might be interested in seeing some of the slightly more refined examples, so I’ve decided to share my poetry with you. My thought behind this is that it may push me back through the door to the poetry world again, since I haven’t written any for nearly two years, and I really shouldn’t completely abandon such a fun hobby.

I wrote this during my second year as a fine art student. I’ll let you make your own mind up about its themes and meanings.

Serengeti Fire X24-R35E

The greatย flรขneur, she saunters far;
lone wanderer, in her home

Back bent low, bristling;
tired
She, the Great; she roams

Unending heat, searing pain
Ripping through her soul;
Lives, they whisper, memories past
In eyes as black as coal

Shallow graves left in her wake, two by two they go
Giant Priestess, keening pine

Row, by row, by row

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