By admin on Aug. 1, 2010.
To avoid any conclusion, the person we are following is Ravena! And the first paragraph is set after the rest.
Torso decked with tightly entwined chain mail wear
and thick steel helmet covering the head and hair.
Ravena seemed stalwart, championing the battallion.
brandishing the flowing flag atop her chestnut stallion.
Hands seen before her, burnt with bruises, gifts of war,
standing in the heart of the village, all time before
the great battle begun, she stood with her flowing blue
cape, watching warriors practice wishing she were too.
Wishing to become one of servitude, darkened desire
pushed her forward, her hope to model combat attire.
Why could she not cook like her mother, worry seeped
as the family watched her observe, the risk heaped.
A chilled touch of blade, as if fashioned for her grasp,
peeking from house, as soon as hand met metal, gasp,
her mother knew, she daughter had ventured her dreams,
harrowed from the last war, they’d heard bloodied screams.
Soon she was armoured, weighing her down, was worth
the extra strain, she knew she’d be fighting for her earth.
To be slaying the entitys who wish to destroy her peers,
friends gave cheers, whilst her parents choked on tears.
Her gauntlets led her miles, trekking through terrain
designed to kill, enduring piping heat and frozen rain.
The warrior crowd, alive with chat, everything ceased
from the last mile, wondering who would be deceased.
Ravenas fronted the gathering, atop her horse, skilled
trying to remember she was preventing blood spilled.
Her thoughts drifited as she shook fearing the worst,
she was too young, her decision had been cursed.
The piercing blue crest blazed from the other side,
most of the heroes chests swelled, bursting with pride.
The mare supporting her, growling, it was ready
to for the battle to commence, she held on steady.
The fist "clang" triggered the frenzy, violent amplified
lost in the blur, Ravena watched expert bodies divide.
Stained scarlet, she whipped through undercover,
trusty steed beheaded, mistaken war as her lover.
Grass bleached red, soaked away the lush green
a sign of the bloodshed, taken away it’s nature clean.
Everyone participating had been brutally killed
in an opposing victory, except one extremely unfufilled.
Cowerdice, she despised herself, punishing her mind
she stayed in her position, forcing herself to remind.
She would sit there forever living in her minature trench
forcing herself to see the decay, inhale the stench.
ooh, rayven, thank you, i didn’t mean all time before, i meant all that tme before, it makes a bit more sense now right?
HaHa, it made sense in my mind (i use that excuse A LOT)
Smiles everyone, I love ya, i’m in a very compassionate mood of late.
Hee hee, rockstar i’m sorry about my overly critical comment on your poem, it was a bit harsh, i was just in a harsh mood and you were in the firing line, but at least I didn’t lie to you.
Man these four are a tough act t’follow. I’ve a coupla comments and already feel like Piers Morgan hittin’ my "X"! LMBO So let me start with WONDERFUL…REALLY. You are a gifted storyteller, who just needs to be a little careful about compromising the write for the story or the rhyme scheme.
S2/L2 "all time before" accomplishes not a single thing but rhyming with "war". And it sounds icky because…even "as done before" or "in the heart of the village, where she’d often stood before"
I gotta go for now, but will revisit later!
Category: horse gifts for girls
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