Sunday, 7 April 2013

The First Week

The final day of the first week and I feel as if I’ve managed to achieve quite a bit. Thus far, I do not think that I have produced anything amazingly brilliant, but we’ve got the rest of the month for that, eh? eh? Anyhow, here is my seventh poem.


At the very edge of the world

Where civility runs, hard pressed, into caverns

To hides itself from they who know it not

We enter this here western land

Branded barbarians inciting their animalistic heraldry

As sweat kisses blood in the land of blades

Where death and decay are immortalised

In the everyday style of stagnation

Penned by poets who knew it but through dreaming

A wise man might threatened that this was our doing

A wiser woman knew that this might be our fate

For succession was broken and this century began

Wiping out crystalline history with crimson

Such cold cruelty in which we bathed

Immersion in the ecstasy of wartime bliss

Which ended in the shattering of ourselves

Who dares to claim knowledge of such a day?

When the skies screamed with a thousand shrieks

Each a life gone to our enemies, ourselves

That kingdom of monsters so low beneath our heel?


Such a fragile terms

Thanks for reading. Tell me what you think :)

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