Though my poem does not have any Eve buzzwords, for those who have recently been following what has been going on with ABA whether by Twitter or following Rixx's blog Eveoganda, will have a pretty good idea how my poem relates to Eve. I also wrote it in such a way so you also don't need to know anything about Eve to enjoy it.
Come one come all! I'll tell a tale,
of those who fight and those who fail.
Of legendary bird of yore
which from its ashes soars once more.
Let's not forget the harlot's son,
who lived his life in city's slum
nor the man who dwelled next door,
who often met with bird of yore;
and though in rags the man did live
a kingly aura he did give.
For when the man was with the bird
the two did shine tis what I heard.
The masses came from far and wide
to ask the man to be their guide
or maybe seek for yon bird's tears,
to cure the ill or calm their fears.
But looking on one's eyes turned green
a mere lad in shadow unseen.
He fled the site so he could plan
the downfall of the bird and man.
The lad in secret gathered peers,
to fight for him and hide his fears.
At night they set off on their roam
only to find the bird alone.
Now with the dawn the masses came,
only to hear the lad proclaim.
That he alone could be the best
and thus he boasts beating his chest.
Four days did pass till man returned,
only to find his home been burned.
But of the bird there was no sight
till beggar girl explained the plight.
To free his friend the man would need
his mace of old and battle's creed
and so he sought the mystic one
to grant him strength till deed be done;
and now our story takes a turn
so if you're smart make sure to learn,
that even though a battle's won
the consequence may not be fun.
In time the green eyed lad brought out
the bird's remains with which to tout
that with its death the battle's won
and he no more the harlot's son.
With gleeful laughing the lad thought
that now the man would be as naught,
only to notice silence toll
and from the crowd the man did stroll.
Raising his mace his foes did fall
for none could stand against this squall,
without his peers the lad did flee
from one who'd curse his mercy plea.
The carcass of the man's good friend
did smolder causing smoke to 'scend
and with a flash became a blaze,
which from the ash a head did raise.
So that's my tale with bird of yore
and how it came to soar once more.
What of the man in rags you ask?
Was made the king, a people's task!
But pity not the harlot's son
for in the shadows he did run,
when cloaked in darkness he would grin
with green eyes full of envy's sin.