17.9.04
WAR OF THE ORB
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.
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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
Final revision accomplished on Sept 2, 2018:
War of the Orb
Before our empire's crest of cracks spread out
The grinning armies crooked boned await
With dreams of glory blind and blissful shout
The troops of light stand tall to face the great
Night's iron sledge drops hard on the anvil
Of day as walls of fools advance with shields
Stars disintegrate to dance with evil
Fueling fury of frozen eyes that yields
No quarter to the flaxen rows of fear
Swords fall to the ground, golden soldiers frown
Dulled blades rust and goad the gruesome foe's leer
Fresh corpses feed the grasses turning brown
The living fight and drown; the moral here
To prove the dead must gain new souls each round
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