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POETRY LINKS
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The Battlefield
Wet cerise fluid covers the hallowed ground, These bloody harsh battles never forgot. Terror screams echo with a horrific sound, Dread battlefield dreams tie the nooses knot. Each man that falls here is never again to rise, Taken forever the Reaper holds their souls tight. Swift black wings carry all those who have died, Held now by the netherworld’s dread might. Gone are innocent’s days, buried in death, Drown in the blood poured from raw, deep gashes. Warriors crumpled plead with frail dying breath, We warriors are nothing but dust and ashes. Blood pours expeditiously from cuts so deep, Coloring the ground where the warriors sleep.
Sleep
Coloring the ground where the warriors sleep, Bodies and blood buried in old ashes. Warriors broken and crushed into the deep, Bleeding no more from the deepest gashes. Souls adrift in the dim ethereal mist, Shambling aimlessly in the underworld. Lost now the warm feeling of being kissed, Frozen forever within arcane dream world. Tucked in under covers of darkness, Wrapped eternally within a lurid shroud. Smothered still and frozen nevertheless, Each delicate warrior somber and proud. Laying prostrate on the solemn whist ground, Odious dreams forged within the crown abound.
The Warrior’s Nightmare
Odious dreams forged within the crown abound, Creating nightmares of torturous deeds. New arisen screams echo with horrific sound, Drowning out the peace as the nightmare feeds. Absolute horrors crucify the mind, Rending fragile flesh and shredding all thoughts. Subdued to the purest evil and its kind, Reliving every bloody battle once fought. Innocent blood spilled by his own hand, Acts so devilish and full of loathing. Recalling falling and striking the sand, Now prone the succubus began their breeding. Tiny beads of sweat pile on the wet foreheads, As each warrior lays prone on their deathbeds.
Silent Death
As each warrior lays prone on their deathbed, So silently drifting into the void. Night eyes sensing the darker shores ahead, Their soul to be crushed and destroyed. Plutonian shores fill each soul with fear, Reminding of the pending doom at hand. Soft wave falls tell of the shore now so near, Marking the dim netherworld’s undead land. Left to rot laying on the sands so cold, Decaying in the darkness now alone. Flesh sloughs off losing its once living hold, Stumbling and faltering to fall prone. From within the carcass a soul arises, Rising from the fleshy and bony disguises.
Drifting Soul
Rising from the fleshy and bony disguises, The soul drifts so slowly toward the sky. An ethereal ghost deep inside arises, Weeping the body heaves a weak whimpered cry. Departed now the body is laid to rest, Buried deep and entombed beneath the soil. Only the ghastly remains for the quest, Pushing on toward the light with great toil. Accelerating toward the bright light, The warrior’s soul morphically moves even faster. Undulating and dancing from the night, It knows to seek the keeper and headmaster. Silently the formless spirit arrives, Displaying shadowed forms of our lives.
Judgment
Displaying shadowed forms of our lives, The spirit is given before the judge. An old life long gone and buried in sighs, Stands trial before the pure without grudge. Clear-cut decisive words strike so very true, As the judge weeds through the various facts. Finding even the most hidden deeds construe, Through all time and memory the judge tracks. Nothing can hide from the all seeing eye, No deed is minute enough to evade. All things are so seen the judge does imply, As the judge weighed the use of the blade. These deeds judged based on the long gone past, To reach an eonian resolve that is steadfast.
Resultare
To reach an eonian resolve that is steadfast, A judgment that is true and so pure. Waiting in cold dire sweats until the last, His actions once pure now he’s not so sure. For many men had fallen by his sharp blade, Dying because they opposed the right ways. Blood covered the warrior had always prayed, Even all the way back to the early days. A lull settled over the white-gated path, Looming now as the cloaked judge moved near. Sealed parchment held the potential dark wrath, While dark misted eyes watched with more fear. The hand of justice was extended then, Swiftly pardoned was the warrior, amen.
Eternal Requiem
Swiftly pardoned was the warrior, amen, Blessed is the still soul now laid to rest. A warrior now passed from the world of men, Who’s spirit now drifts in the far off west. Mighty deeds done and now long remembered, Passed on through time by our oral tradition. Poems and songs told near the fiery low ember, Immortalize his hallowed transition. Warrior of the olden days of glory, Warrior who defeated all the old evil. Only here in death now momento mori1, Archaic and perfectly primeval. Life and now here in death is symmetry, Passing into immortal memory.
Past Memory
Passing into immortal memory, Remembered forever your still goodly deeds. Buried deeply in a tomb of emery, The warrior is dust that no longer bleeds. Fading fast into the backs of the mind, Lost within the complex thoughts and shadows. Shifting hazy moments are barely entwined, Glancing through times diminutive windows. Legend now nearly forgotten and lost, Clung to the quickly fading retention. Glory and true honor had its great cost, Dim mystical memories invention. Immortal memories long since ended, As mere dust and shadows now descended.
Finis
As mere dust and shadows now descended, Covering the sacred grounds in shadow. Wrapping the whole of those who ascended, Leaving cold dried tears of the lone widow. All is done and completed in this task, Done in total with nothing left to do. In silence the shadow raises the cask, Toasting the time and coffin made of yew. The deeds done and the epic goal completed, Death passed and ascension now gone. Faded dreams and memories depleted, Smiles drift quickly into the rising dawn. Consummating the crown with the lotus. Thus it is said: Finis coronat opus2.
1. momento mori: Latin: n. [literally, remember that you must die] a reminder of mortality; esp: death's-head (Merrian-Webster Collegiate - 10th Ed.) 2. finis coronat opus: Latin: the end crowns the work
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