Literary Yard

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Poetry

riverside

The river still waits for the boats
that once sailed over to the other
side with hopes to conquer lands
beyond the distant hillocks.
Centuries have gone by
yet no fellow returned.
Not even a descendant
ever showed up.
No news of victory
was ever heard of.
Nor songs of glory
strummed the waves in the air
signalling success.

Only a rumour lives
Of a possible mass murder by
the riverside spirits
which inhabit that place
since times ancient.
They say an ancient tribe of tantrics
used to behead young children
to please the demigods in the woods across the river.

The spirits of the dead
never let anyone pass through alive.
Screaming little voices
Surround travellers and devour them.

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