GloPoWriMo – Song 15

To Pledge a Promise, on my Word

I made a fast promise
to the sisters of the Wyrd–
to destroy each twisted vine,
on that they had my word.
Burn tendril, cut the root,
corrupt, decayed, and weird.

I made a hard promise:
Fingers of the worm cult,
I’d hack from each cleft hand,
every last devotee culled,
then to destroy each anchor,
to this fate I’d been called.

I pledged a solemn promise
to Dragonborn from Akavir.
Never to let war rage,
never attack afar.
Not for Dominion, Pact,
Nor Cov’nant, ack! I vow.

I swore an oath and promise,
my hand on golden ball,
that I would forgo rest,
end war’s relentless bawl,
not once stop in weariness
till we’ve slayed dread Molag Bal.

Daily Prompt: “write a poem that incorporates homophones, homographs, and homonyms, or otherwise makes productive use of English’s ridiculously complex spelling rules and opportunities for mis-hearings and mis-readings,” from Na/GloPoWriMo.

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NaPoWriMo 2019