Xerophox Winning Entry

Lanturnacht: A Poem

T'was the night of Lanturnacht,
And the thunder did roll,
Like the hoofbeats of Shyre,
A chill did indeed grow.
The village of Rordon, taken by dreams,
Nightmares and dreamscapes,
Silent whispers and screams.
Pommkins aglow on paths paved in mists,
A foreboding shadow,
stretches inward and twists.
Spirits arise, from graves freshly laid,
With laughter and horror they ride,
On the backs of a sea breeze, so salty and strange
In darkness so abysmal they hide.
'Tis what a wonder, these mysteries form,
Like words lost in the wind,
A thunderhead claps the oncoming storm
Let the season begin.