Quatrain

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The fear has settled in your foe,

 

 

 

He runs away like a frightened doe,

 

 

 

He flees from you for all to see,

 

 

 

As pathetic as his life may be.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The forest has become your home,

 

 

 

Or maybe the sea which writhes with foam,

 

 

 

People fear you,

 

 

 

You enemyÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢s days are filled with regret and rue.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Your arrows launch far away,

 

 

 

Along the treesÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢ branches which sway,

 

 

 

Is your target dead?

 

 

 

Yes, and your bloodlust is fed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You wander to homes and castles wide,

 

 

 

They greet you with fear,

 

 

 

Seeing your great stride,

 

 

 

They are now greeted with death they cannot hear, a death that is a spear.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ball and chain,

 

 

 

Or mace it is called,

 

 

 

Enemies hairy and enemies bald,

 

 

 

If they fight, they are insane.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Your sword locks in enemy ribs,

 

 

 

You leave babies orphaned in their cribs,

 

 

 

Then come guards from drinking bars,

 

 

 

They cough and flail, do they have SARS?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You jump upon black battlements,

 

 

 

You climb through primitive air vents,

 

 

 

You shoot an arrow from your bow,

 

 

 

Wow, you killed two men in a row!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I think you are morbidly inclined,

 

 

 

Your enemyÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢s skin is turned into rind,

 

 

 

You leave pools of blood,

 

 

 

They come as if it were a bloody flood.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The castle looks like fort Lauderdale,

 

 

 

Made from rocks, somewhat like shale,

 

 

 

The cannons fire,

 

 

 

As you kill your enemyÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢s sire.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The throne is covered with blood,

 

 

 

Dirt, sand, and other kinds of crud,

 

 

 

I leave all my fears behind,

 

 

 

The enemyÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢s captain I shall find.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You climb walls like a man-spider,

 

 

 

You mount your horse, as a black rider,

 

 

 

Your steel made sword,

 

 

 

Cuts through the enemyÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢s hoard.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Your spear is down,

 

 

 

As you joust with the chief,

 

 

 

Under your terrible frown.

 

 

 

Your enemyÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢s friends lower heads in grief.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It seems they were wrong,

 

 

 

Like the rest of the throng,

 

 

 

His lance goes through your chest.

 

 

 

You wish you had a Kevlar vest.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You die there,

 

 

 

Fall of your horse,

 

 

 

Your life loses itÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢ most vital source,

 

 

 

You lie still there, the only movement is the flutter of your hair.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The battlefield is filled with cheers,

 

 

 

As your king wipes away forbidden tears.

 

 

 

Your body is sent afloat across the sea,

 

 

 

Finally, your spirit is free.

nerd

[wagon]

nerd

 

 

 

What a constructive comment.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Well I think it your poem lacks some originality, but it's a nice try.

wagon

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wagon? :?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The poem is good.

whenever i post @$$ it becomes 'wagon'

hmm i dont like it.. i like 'nice' poems, about love, candy and cute furry animals. I mean.. Hopeless love lack of candy and dead cute furry animals in neat packages! way to go!!