Amidst the march to battle, a soldier's grim tale, "Don't you hear the cackle of thunder, so vile? Being struck on his godforsaken earth we tread, The flash of lightning, night's darkest dread." With voices hushed, they heed his somber word, As the Vexecious God of Thunder roared, "Don't you see the heavens alight with wrath? The tears of rain fall hard on our path." Each step they take, a tremor in their soul, In the shadow of war, where darkness takes its toll, The Soldier's tale, a haunting, fateful verse, As they march to confront a merciless curse.
War
Immortal Warden
6/11/23
Prompt: The Immortal Warden
Oh, my misguided friend, make no mistake. This is no mere episode of corruption of my eternal conviction. I shall find no solace until I find my enemies writhing in agonizing pain beneath the pressure of my blade, begging for mercy amongst the bodies of their fallen brothers, regretting and ruining the day in which they crossed me. Which I shall deny them such mercy as death.
In shadows deep, where darkness dwells, A figure stern, the immortal Warden, tells Of battles fought with fiery might, And enemies crushed in eternal night. Oh, my misguided friend, he cries, This corruption breeds no compromise. With unwavering conviction, he stands tall, Vowing vengeance, to make them fall. No solace sought, no respite found, Until his foes lie broken on the ground. Beneath his blade, in pain they writhe, their final Breaths, the price of their strive. Begging for mercy, they'll tremble, they'll plead, Yet his heart of steel will pay no heed. Amidst the fallen, their brothers lost, Regret will consume them, a bitter cost. For they dared to cross his righteous path, Invoking the wrath pf this immortal's wrath. No mercy granted, no release from life, They'll taste the bitter edge of his strife. Oh. Immortal Warden, relentless and true, Your vengeance burns with a crimson hue. Through battles waged, your legend's born, A symphony of anguish, your enemies torn. In the annals of time, your name shall be sung, A mythic figure, with songs forever young. For you are the guardian, unyielding, unchained, Forever marked, by the vengeance you've attained.
Battle ’til Hearts Cease
Prompt I wrote for the poem:
Overseer King Dracme: I don’t want your soul.
Soldiers: …Then what do you want from us?
Overseer King Dracme: For my gift…all I ask… is you all will do the one thing y’all are good at, the thing you’re only worth doing.
Soldiers: And what is that my liege?
Overseer King Dracme: (Menacing smile) Fight until you drop to your knees and your heart ceases to sing.
In a realm of shadows, dark and grim, Stood soldiers still, their chances slim, A chilling presence, King Dracme stood, His gaze piercing, his intentions crude. Soldiers dared to question their plight, "What do you seek? Our souls to ignite?" But the overseer, with a wicked grin, Revealed his desire, a sinister spin. "I don't want your souls," he coldly replied, "For my gift to you, I ask with pride, Do what you're good at, your purpose align, Fight 'til your knees drop, hearts no longer entwined." Silence hung heavy, like a spectral shroud, Yet soldiers' spirits, they remained unbowed, In verses of battle, their worth they'd embrace, As they stepped forward, destiny to face. Each word echoes, a battle cry, As swords unsheathed, reaching for the sky, The Overseer watch, his hearts delight, As warriors clashed in the darkest night. Their armor gleamed with a resolute gleam, Bound by duty, fueled by a dream, With every strike, they defied their plight. Determined to fight, even in their last plight. Through the haze of chaos, their spirits thrived, Their hearts ablaze, refusing to be deprived, They fought with valor, an unyielding flame, For King Dracme's twisted, unholy claim. As the battle raged on, the night grew deep, Soldiers fought on, their souls to keep, Their hearts sung a dirge, yet refused to succumb, For the Overseer's demand, they had become numb. In the end, when their strength had waned, When victory seemed an illusion, unattained, They knelt on the battlefield, with hearts resigned, Their songs silenced, their purpose intertwined. With a wicked smile, the Overseer beheld, The soldiers broken, their fate now felled, Their fight had ceased, their souls now bereft, In the wake of the darkness, nothing was left. Thus, a chilling tale of the soldiers' strife, Bound to fight, to their very life, For King Dracme, their tormentor, their liege, They fought 'til their hearts no longer besiege.
Tangled Hearts, Endless Paths
In the realm of “What ifs” our minds do stray,
Exploring paths untaken, day by day.
But amidst false love, a treacherous guise,
Passions ignite, where truth oftentimes lies.
In the backdrop of war, a fierce crusade,
Desire burns bright, a love never swayed.
Amidst the chaos, families find solace,
Uniting in bonds that time can’t erase.
Adventure beckons, a wild, daring call,
Exploring the unknown, standing tall.
And within this tapestry, passions entwine,
Seeking pleasures untamed, intoxicating and divine.
But let us shift the focus, with respect and care,
To celebrate love in a way that’s fair.
For sex, though a part of the human experience,
Deserves a nuanced approach, with reverence.
Let’s honor intimacy, connection profound,
With consent and trust, a sacred ground.
A celebration of love, desire’s sweet surrender,
In a poem where respect and consent are the agenda.
So let our poem weave a tale of love’s embrace,
With passion and warmth, a tender grace.
Acknowledging that sex is part of life’s bloom,
But focusing on love’s depths, beyond the bedroom.
For love encompasses more than just physical delight,
It’s the emotional bond that shines in love’s light.
And in this poem, we celebrate the breadth,
Of love’s journey, where hearts find their true depth.
Via Sanguinis et Honoris/Path of Blood and Honour
Honour, a virtue of a profound esteem,
What lies within your grasp, do you deem?
You, who've never tasted fear's bitter breath,
Learn of honour, ere posing as a warrior, death.
Before you tread upon that crimson lane,
Where no false steps endure, none remain,
A path that stretches to the endless abyss,
Where melody dies and knees gently kiss.
Sorrow intertwines with agony's sting,
And praise takes the hue of blood, echoing.
This path leads but one way, no retreat,
With foes and comrades, its trials complete.
It snatches without mercy, devoid of remorse,
Into the hands of death, on this perilous course.
For the name bestowed upon you, a weight to bear,
And for your ancestors, their legacy to share.
Un tablero de sangre
In the quiet of her mind,
A battle rages on,
A war of strategy and might,
Played out on a board, alone.
The pieces move with silent grace,
Each step a calculated risk,
Her mind is focused, sharp and clear,
As she plans her every twist.
The pawns advance, the knights in play,
My queen, a fearsome sight,
But on the other side they wait,
Their forces strong and bright.
The bishops, rooks and king move out,
A force to be reckoned with,
And as they close in on my line,
Her heart begins to quicken.
For in this game of chess she plays,
She sees a war unfold,
A conflict fought with swords and guns,
With stories yet untold.
She sees the soldiers, brave and true,
Their spirits strong and bold,
But also fear and pain and loss,
Their stories yet untold.
She wonders then, with heavy heart,
If war is just a game,
A battle fought with pieces moved,
With lives that are the same.
And as she takes my final move,
The pieces fall in place,
She realizes that in war and chess,
The cost is in the race.
For in both games, we sacrifice,
Our pieces and our men,
And in the end, what do we win,
But sorrow and chagrin.
So let us play the game of peace,
Where lives are not the cost,
And let us hope for better days,
When war is but a ghost.
The Siren’s Red Wedding in IceHollow’s Kingdom
Created: April 14, 2023, 3am
In IceHollow’s kingdom, amidst the snow and ice,
Lived a siren, Batsheva, with powers so nice,
Her peach eyes shone bright, a sight to behold,
A beauty so rare, with stories untold.
She swam through the icy waters with ease,
Her water manipulation a sight to please,
Practicing her skills day and night,
To hone her abilities and be ready to fight.
But war came to IceHollow, so bleak and cold,
Batsheva fought bravely, her powers bold,
But amidst the chaos and battle cries,
Betrayal struck, a painful surprise.
Her own kin, Ishnol, turned against her,
A brother’s betrayal, a wound that would stir,
Irony, they say, is a cruel mistress indeed,
For the one she loved the most, was the one who made her bleed.
Regret filled her heart, as she fought through the night,
Her powers tested, with all her might,
But even her strength and endurance would wane,
As the war in IceHollow left nothing but pain.
In the end, Batsheva emerged victorious,
Her powers of healing, ever so glorious,
But the scars of war, would forever remain,
A constant reminder of the kingdom’s pain.
Oh IceHollow, your beauty doth inspire,
A wondrous realm, where nature’s grandeur never tires,
But war and betrayal, can bring such regret,
And turn a hero’s triumph, into a haunting silhouette.