Favorite poems of the Darklord. All were borrowed and full credit is given. If you have a poem you think the Darklord might like, please send a copy to the Darklord's mailbox.

City of Glass

The sun shines brilliant on towers of glass
From this beautiful city that has no past.
It looks so fragile, it's not made of wood or stone.
In the center of this city a tower of ruby stands alone.

The crystalline trees tinkle in the wind
In this place of purity, where no one has ever sinned.
I go to this place each and every day,
I wish I could stay here to watch sunbeams play.

It would be better with you by my side,
We could witness this together as stars seem to collide.
I am glad this place will last until time next to forever,
It is so beautiful it makes me start to shiver.

That one red tower is what puzzles me.
It is like a bleeding heart in an endless sea of dreams.
Maybe it represents the flaw in things too perfect,
Or how one man must stand alone in suspect.

This is a place that people only dream about,
But I know it exists with never a doubt.
I like to go there when I am all alone,
I prefer it there to the place I call home.

The sun shines brilliant on towers of glass
From this beautiful city that has no past.
It looks so fragile, it's not made of wood or stone.
In the center of this city a I stand alone.

--Andrew Ellis

High Flight
Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings.
Sunward I've climbed and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds- and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of- wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there,
I've chased the shouting wind along and flung
My eager craft through halls of air.
Up, up the long delirious burning blue
I've topped the windswept height with easy grace
Where never lark, nor even eagle flew.
And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod
The high, untresspassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

--John Gillespie Magee, Jr.

I believe this man experienced what can, truly, be called
"Dragon Flight"!

In December 1941, Pilot Officer Magee, a 19-year-old American serving with the Royal Canadian Air Force in England, was killed when his Spitfire collided with another airplane inside a cloud during the Battle of Britain. Discovered among his personal effects was this sonnet, written on the back of a letter at the time he was in flying school at Farnborough, England.

Portions of this poem appear on the headstones of many interred in Arlington National Cemetery, particularly aviators and astronauts

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