The Safari

The golden dust, the scent of coming rain, The rising sun on the vast and open plain. A canvas painted in ochre, green, and gold, A story ancient, and so bravely told. The engine hums, a low and patient sound, As the jeep goes searching for hallowed ground. A silhouette of giraffes, tall and serene, A living image on a wild and endless scene The mighty lions, a sun-soaked tawny pride, Hidden in the grasses where their instincts guide. A leopard's shadow, elusive and so rare, Sliding through the thicket with a quiet, watchful stare. The trumpeting echo of the elephant's call, As families wander, moving free and tall. A wildebeest stampede, a blur of motion swift, A thundering promise, a primal, moving gift. And when the twilight paints the sky anew, With fiery hues of crimson and deep blue, The campfire crackles, a low and steady glow, With jackals barking in the dark, and stars that grow. The stillness settles, vast, deep and wide, The wildness stirring, with nowhere left to hi...
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The Slayed King

 

The tyrant on his gilded throne,

Ignored the pleas, the tear, the groan.

He sowed the seeds of bitter strife,

And crushed the hope of common life.


The crown that sat upon his head,

Was stained with blood the innocent bled.

His laughter rang in vaulted halls,

While hunger gnawed at peasant walls.


But shadows move in quiet ways,

And whisper through the endless days.

A farmer's son, a widow's child,

Remembered all his scorn, so wild.


They did not raise a mighty host,

Or boast a strength that they could toast.

Instead, a single, humble blade,

A promise in the darkness made.


That night the wind did howl and rage,

As actors turned the final page.

The wicked king, in fitful sleep,

Had secrets that the shadows keep.


A whisper first, then cold hard steel,

A taste of what the masses feel.

No fanfare for his final breath,

Just silence and the coming of death.


The scepter fell with hollow sound,

And shattered on the tiled ground.

The crown rolled from his lifeless head,

Just one more evil story said.


And so the sun rose on that day,

The wicked king was slayed.

The people wept, but not for him,

But for the hope that was not dim.


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