Dark Ages Poem by Liilia Talts Morrison

Overtones soft underbellies
Chime chimeras from tall castles
Gargoyles festering on perches

Gothic spikes with threatening glances
Herald secrets of dark ages
Bloody paper cuts from pages

Turned by bony fingers twisting
Ever piercing fragile vellum
Fusing lampblack's painful scribbles

Pen point polished sharp as judgment
Meted out neath spears and banners
To a crowd of unkempt members

Many hordes of tribes in legions
Ever cheering ever fearing
Whether whip and plague of black
Or the yeoman's sudden lack
Dearth of field and coin of gold

It's no wonder men grow old
Hallowed gray as does the village
For its Roland now is pillaged

Read your history feel its pages
Let your tears refresh its sages
Like the Danube rinsed of old
Huns and horses strong or bold

Short indeed your page of strife
Cut your bread with shopworn knife
Love your child and love your wife
Crumbling loaf your feast of life.