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Thread: Into Oblivion

  1. #1
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    Default Into Oblivion

    This poem is topical so I'll post it. Had to do some serious editing. The original was pretty good, but I think I made it more interesting. Hope you like it. If it needs work let me know.


    Into Oblivion

    Sound the horn we go to war,
    We hath been commanded - we know not what for,
    We have been told,
    Be brave! Be Bold,
    So we go to war,
    We know not what for.

    Raise our standard, raise it high,
    We marched to glory, we marched to die,
    Hear our agony, hear our cry,
    To win this battle we must try.

    Through darkened skies rain a thousand darts,
    Then the awful screaming starts,
    Men take cover but still lose heart,
    The bodies of our dead fill a hundred carts.
    They sound a horn, their commanders cries,
    Giving orders based on lies,
    To honourless men whose fealty ties,
    We brace ourselves and prepare to die.
    Heavy horse now charging forth, upon us they descend,
    We hold our ground, we must defend,
    Thundering hooves to bring our end,
    Then the crash, then we fall,
    Our ranks are smashed, no one stands tall,
    Through the rutted, muddy ground our dying crawl,
    Whilst our fallen ascend to heavenly halls.

    Their final horn sounds so loud,
    We find our feet to stand up proud,
    Infantry charge through the mists and shroud,
    Hard rain pours down through darkened cloud,
    Then the clash of metal, steel rings,
    Sword of the enemy - death it brings,
    The sound of brutal battle sings,
    The sound of battle - a terrible thing.
    A black armoured champion cuts us down,
    In our own blood we all do drown,
    Our king has fallen and lost his crown.
    And to our enemies our fate now bound.

    So our standard falls, lost in the mud,
    A crimson flag drenched in blood,
    Through our lands our enemies flood.
    To rape and pillage and satisfy glut.
    Of ten thousand men few remain,
    Our friends, our comrades have been slain,
    We carry the wounded, we bear the pain.
    Whilst politicians hide and avoid the shame.
    The few march back home to the drum,
    We follow orders, under the thumb,
    What have we gained, what is the sum?
    Our souls are lost, our minds are numb.

    And when our enemies are at their door,
    The sound the horn, we go to war,
    They hath commanded - we know not what for,
    We follow orders - it is their law.

    By Chris May


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  2. #2

    Default

    Nice poem.
    " This site is cake, the scoring is icing. Scrape it off if you don't like it, the cake is still delicious!! " - Supervike

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