Poetry Collection

Epic Poem

A/N: Hey guys, I'm not one hundred percent sure if this is an epic poem. I don't know if it meets all the requirements. Any feedback is appreciated!

A heroes tale to be told,

On a plain of red and brown.

Under a sinking sun of bloody scarlet,

Atop a sponge of muddy tan,

A battle long awaited plays the pounding strings of war.

Amidst the beat of thumping feet,

Dressed in the blood and gore

Of ruthless contest and callous combat,

Strikes the arm of one brute man

To yet again cut another’s life petite.

A hidden foe of steely honour

Lies beaten, bashed and rigorously crushed

Among the jagged trenches and broken bodies

Of those defeated, pummelled and slain

In bloody murder and massacre. 

From the ashes he rises as the swine advances,

In steady pace and sinister grace.

A blazing sword of malicious intention,

The baleful rival cuts through walls of strong, young men

As if they were wilting dandelion stems.

As he nears the burning fires of Hell flare viciously,

The swampy ground shakes with hate

And the blooming grey skies rumble with thunderous passion.

The men all bow in fear and pain

As one by one they fall for death in agony.

The great king turns to face his foe,

His soulless eyes black windows to the smouldering blazes of Hell,

His smile is a cruel, malevolent array of countless gravestones.

In bounding leaps and colossal bounds

The grand sovereign stands in waiting for his rival to pounce.

The battle commences with the arc of glinting swords and shining armour.

The blow of a hit,

The weight of a jab,

The heave of a swing.

In deathly combat the two fighters engage.

Like a dance of tango

They fly back and forth in lethal precision.

A quick touch here,

A deadly whisper there.

The dance of two lovers; embrace and spit fire.

As the music draws to a close a winner must emerge,

In blurring manoeuvres and ever rapid cadence

A final fatal blow will end the entangled warriors’ quarrel.

Just one swift, quick thrust of the sword in the chest

To end one mortal fighter’s violent life.

The glimmering swish of a sword arcs high in the air,

As the flash of silver drives forward like a snake.

The fearsome king pulls his ruby red weapon from his opponent’s split torso,

And the young, heroic man tumbles to the ground in terminal defeat.

He rests at the swine’s feet.

With raspy gurgles for air

And pleas of remorse,

The young solider crawls to his feet and stands behind his fiend’s turned back.

One last plunge and all his strength it would take to end this king’s reign.

With deadly accuracy and ominous grace he plunged the sword to the hilt in the wrongdoer’s chest.

To kill the king of cowardice,

And win one country’s war did he.

In the name of honour and courage that boy fought,

And even on his dying breaths he swung his arm and struck all evil down.

Under peace that solider ought to rest for the harmony he bought thee.

A hero’s tale to be told,

On a plain of red and brown.

Under a sinking sun of bloody scarlet,

Atop a sponge of muddy tan,

A battle long awaited played the pounding strings of war and thus both armies lay and bleed the bloody tears of death in perfect symmetry.