This is part of my informal "set" of three poems that I collectively consider my "Collector Series." This one, as you have probably guessed, features the Ravnican Signets.
The Signets
Now here in my collection we will find
The trinkets crafted by those hands so skilled,
The symbols that recall to heart and mind,
The essence drawn by each and every guild.
Within three sides, a circle maze transcribed,
Whose navigation is a maddened sport,
What other sight could ever have described
The cryptic rules that form the
Azor’s court?
A blackened star with four and twenty pins,
The home of countless contracts and appeals,
They say that every bargain made begins
Within the Orzhov’s twisted
Church of Deals.
A single eye upon a scarab’s back,
Will bore into your mind its abject fear,
And as perception fades away to black,
You’ll hear the whispered name of
House Dimir.
A prideful dragon, bearing wide his wings,
His everlasting flight defies fatigue,
The fire in his eyes will hint at things,
To soon be crafted by the
Izzet League.
This skull was set in blood and bone and flame,
And morbidly you see the grim result,
The reddish stain upon it screams their name:
This symbol of the fiendish
Rakdos Cult!
A solid mass raised up on insect legs,
The aspects ‘life’ and ‘death’ have claimed a form,
The choice of such a horrid image begs
No question of the vast
Golgari swarm.
The fires dance atop an unknown shape,
It’s scratched with haste, resisting further plans,
The chaos there will never grant escape,
It holds the fate of all the
Gruul clans.
An upright fist within a golden sun,
Hangs high and proud above a lawful region,
And lends its strength when conflict has begun,
The lasting promise of the
Boros Legion.
A verdant tree that grows to give its light,
To every darkened corner of these streets,
It’s standing strong to lend us all the might
That’s found when the
Selesnyan Conclave meets.
A surge of growth that rides upon the waves,
That fills the other guilds' bizarre requests,
But you would rather plunge to sea-born graves
Than sink to where the
Simic Combine tests.
A signet each for every lofty guild,
And all they’ve done in names of love and hate,
But this blank seal is for all those they’ve killed,
Who’ve never known the safety of a Gate.