The Gnarled Hand

I’ve never written poetry before but here’s my first attempt at it:

The Gnarled Hand

It sits deep in its pit gathering strength for the upward climb

The gnarled hand unfurls ready, to commit the grievous crime

As its power gradually increases, it starts it’s upwards flow

In its wake, acidic minions churning down below

It has the heart within its paralysing sight

It’s going to take hold and squeeze with all its might

Finally, it takes the prize within its palm squeezing with great force

Rivers of cold are released to weave their pre set course

The mountain shakes and crumbles with barely a sound

Temporarily it’s brought crashing to the ground

Chaos, confusion, anger and despair currently reign

But the mountain will fight to rid itself of this awful pain

When that day comes, the mountain will again stand tall and proud

The gnarled hand will be banished, to live back under its cold black shroud