Before empire's crest of cracks spreading out
Wait crooked boned the grinning army white
Blind with bliss and bold dreams of glory shout
The troops of the Sun stand facing the dark
Night falls, an iron sledge on the anvil
Of day. The wall of fools advance with shields
The stars disintegrate. The dead, tranquil,
Feed fury with frozen eyes and force yield
Upon the pink cheeked rows of living fear.
Gold haired soldiers turn and fall, swords let go
Their blades to rust and serve the ghoulish leers
Fresh corpses feed the grasses turning brown
The moral here: the living fight and drown
For the undead to gain new souls each round.

1 comment:

shaun said...

This sonnet was originally penned with quill and inkwell at the "War of the Orb" SCA event in Arkansas, 1988.

I have revised it on this day, January 27, 2015.

~the author