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| Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 09-June 21:23:33 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 92046
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Fighting the Impossible
[time] => 2005-04-23 21:27:27
[hometext] => I would like contructive comments.. That can help me improve my poem... All comments are welcome... I want to become better.
[bodytext] => "What manner of man Now stands here before me?" I beckon, Yet he does not speak. I draw my weapon, But still he remains fast. He says to me, "No one has passed." His eyes glisten Far in his head, This bearer Of mortal dread. "If thou art man, Prove thy might with cannon and sword," I yell aloud To the fermenting storm. He flinches not At my loud call But only states, "I shall not fall." Thunder rumbles Behind my foe As a cold northern gale Begins to blow. Lightning strikes upon A mighty oak. Into the slate black sky Arises white smoke. Great orange flames Reach for the heavens And are not slowed Even by the pelting rains. I step closer Towards my faceless enemy. I see the reflected fires In his eyes focused solely on me. With all my might, I launch my spear, But the mysterious figure frets not And simply laughs back in my ear. With an inner rage Not only my own, I run at him To try and shatter his bones. I raise my sword To clash with his. They meet with a force, Mine and his. White hot sparks Shower from the sky, Scorch my skin, And sing my eyes. I battle intensely With my grim adversary. And even after many hours, We have become not yet weary. With ravenous want, I continue my fight. We struggle on Through most of the night. Finally I gain The upper hand And spill his blood Onto the cold, hard land. I rip his flesh. Crimson is his blood. I remove my rapier And watch the reddish flood. The blood of many a man Is spilled on the ground, And out of my foe's mouth Escapes an amazing sound. He bellows forth A magnificent yell. His eyes reflect The eternal fires of Hell. His amazing roar, His cry of agony, Shakes the mountains And trembles the trees. I pierce his chest Again with great lust. His blood pours forth Like steaming red dust. I look upon My conquered, dying rival. Though he can scarcely breathe, His fierce eyes still sparkle. Deep is my chilling, Growing sorrow, But I would do The same tomorrow. Completely for spent, I fall to my knees And hear my opponent croak out, "Thou art worthy indeed." Divine wrath And earthly doom Are marked by A tremendous boom. In a flash of lightning, My enemy disappears. In the falling rain, I realize my fears. I may have won the battle, But I shall never win the war. I slew Death that night, But soon again He shall be tearing down my door… [comments] => 3 [counter] => 167 [topic] => 13 [informant] => Brandyx7 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 10 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry )
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