by Nick Gisburne
In which the fate of the world is foretold in four doom-laden limericks
Her eyes burn with power and passion
The mask of her face pale and ashen
From the slumber of sleep
From the depths of the deep
Comes an end to this world she will fashion
Long aeons of time gave her power
The cold bell of doom tolls the hour
Through the splintering skies
Come the terrible cries
Of the helpless below as they cower
She summons the flames of damnation
A tide of depraved devastation
Storms of acid and smoke
Cast their poisonous cloak
On the ruins of civilisation
She gazes at what she has ended
The crimes and perversions that men did
And returns to the deep
To the silence of sleep
And the nightmares from which she descended
Epilogue: An alternative, abbreviated account of the apocalypse
There once was a demon called Tina
No creature from Hell could be meaner
With her powers unfurled
She demolished the world
And destroyed all the people who’d seen her
Today I tasked myself with subverting the light-hearted form of the limerick into something much more substantial and gritty. Read it with gravitas and you’ll find a dark tale of doom. Read it again in the jaunty cadence of a limerick and you’ll discover an entirely different mood, as demonstrated by the epilogue!
