Dying Swan Poem by udoh etido

A life bewitched;
a life in great need;
Fair i am;
my kindred always glad;
A beauty i possess;
men beat their chests.

A fair Swan i am;
my islands tell me glad;
I have a good kindred;
house never filled with the dread.

My eldest proud;
her eyes behold my viles;
My brother Ron;
a strange sword;
My half brother Kan;
a might to the light.

My eldest sister Anne;
she envisages a path;
My eldest sister Anne;
she sets us alive.

We walk through the pool;
we feel her groove;
her waters lay tender;
reflecting strange lights.

We walk by the pool;
Anne leads the crew;
Anne knows the glow;
Anne will heal the troupe.

I be with Anne;
my eyes behold her pride;
I will walk by my sister Anne;
let the boys carry my floating gown.

A sudden enchantment;
kindred hatred;
A sudden demise;
the pool envelopes my pride;
Anne pushed me in;
Anne derails my creed;
A sister i hold dear;
Anne was my only heir.

My eyes deep shot;
i try to wail spots;
my dress flowing in the pool;
drawing strange hoods;
Sister Anne has betrayed;
the kindred hate i haste.

Crys of help;
fill my air;
Crys for help;
Anne, save my head.

I sit cheerfully;
my heritage, destiny;
my mights are proud;
my eyes, strange darts;
my chariots revere;
my sister, the least of my cares.

How can i help? ;
your eyes, my chest;
How can i help? ;
your beauty my duress.

Castles are made high;
trying to decipher my eyes;
Men dear and gloat;
i stand no foe.

You always steal the show;
you always court my glow;
Am i not the heir? ;
Am i not the true chair? ;
How can i help? ;
your death my revenge.

Go to the gates of Hell;
no place for you on mother's desk;
let your rise no more;
let your goal be cursed.

Strange words fill the air;
the pool my grave;
strange hates circle and gloat;
my soul is known to the hole.

Let fairies arise;
and save my eyes;
Anne has left me this path;
Anne is in great lands.
Let castles rise;
let chariots fight;
chariots abiding in the seas;
chariots the pool's creed.

Let my soul be revived;
make me into strange harps;
Tear every flesh of mine;
this story must be glad.

I seek the truth;
for the slayer of my youth;
I seek a truce;
so my soul will know strange grooves.

I seek the truth;
let Anne know the loose;
I seek my soul;
my kindred ought to know.

A golden Harp i am;
ready to deliver strange sounds;
sounds of hate;
sounds of the insane.

A golden Harp i am;
ready to seek justice divine;
A golden Harp i am;
ready to see Anne transpire.

Ready the gates;
let my passage be straight;
open locked doors;
let Anne's death be horror.

There sits my father the King;
My mother in great need;
My mother the queen;
let her ears open to deeds.

There standeth Ron;
a noble brother i have;
his beard ever large;
detesting fake creeds of the Knights.

My offender in fright;
there sitteth Anne;
Her eyes sly;
her deeds large.

Let kindred redemption arise;
Anne, ever my demise.

Let Anne descend;
she has betrayed the dead.