Thursday, April 12, 2012

3rd Annual Poetry Challenge, #12

AHHHHHHH so finally, a true challenge has arrived!!! A good friend - without whom, I might add, I probably would not be doing this experiment - sent me a challenge yesterday. He sent me a poem that he wrote when he was younger with the challenge: "What is your poetic response to this?" So, here is his poem, followed by my response. It should be noted that he was still in high school when he wrote this, and he was reading a lot of fantasy literature at the time.

Mercenaries

Knowing the enemy, that is the first rule
Before the first sword is drawn
The buzzards, they wait, they look so cruel
I signal the pipers, we march with the dawn
Up with the camp, we march down the hill
To meet the enemy dread
The soldiers pause, the field so still
Before our lances turn it red
Ready the pike, up the arrow
There is no sound, this is no show
Up in the sky, a lonesome sparrow
Our fate draws near, it’s time to go

The men rush forward, the horses pound
We are an army, no tighter banding
We gallop forth, we shake the ground
Every man knows, no one left standing
I yell as I ride, our meeting thunder
There is no thinking, there is no thought
It seems we must be swept asunder
No matter the plan, our service bought

When the blood stops flowing, the last drop spilled
Broken arms and blood-matted hair
The last man captured, the last man killed
The injured like raindrops, the dead everywhere
We pick ourselves up, our hearts in our hands
Month after week, war after battle
We go forth to die, die for our lands
Marching every day, riding in the saddle

Yet one fine day our march is done
To face the greatest, blackest horde
We meet our slayers under sun
As I once more draw forth my sword
We do battle to avenge some crime
A reckoning is coming nigh
We defy an enemy one last time
Though born to live, our fate to die
With darkness about me, I stand tall
The enemy charges, I see death’s portal
I give one last, unearthly call
They cannot stop me, I am immortal

I stand alone upon the slain
I try to move, I strive
Warp the sounds, distance the pain
I know I am truly alive


and, the response......

The Watcher

My place unknown, unseen from history
I follow from a distance,
the rival hordes - their cause a mystery,
chronicled here in this instance.
Men of honor, and of strength,
made of sterner stuff then metal,
To what level and what length,
will they take their epic battle?
Ready the parchment- ready the quill,
the trumpets sound their blasting call,
a test of might and furious will,
some will live, while many fall.

Sweaty hands and metal clashing,
howls of anger and of pain,
drown the yaw where hell's teeth are gnashing,
more angels lost, and demons gained.
They for freedom in every way,
and no one is ever wrong,
The young and old will both decay,
The worms eat well before too long.

The battle for the day is ended,
the camps part ways for the evening meal
the dead lay scattered while wounds are tended,
the night is short for men to heal.
And I amongst them, running fast,
to hear the glorious tales,
of axes thrown and canon blast,
of men who fought as ruthless gales.

On the morrow they shall see,
what the day's events will bring
Whether they stay and the others flee,
or they serve a newer king.
Or to renew their fearsome battle
over valley and the hill,
Butcher men like the were cattle,
Until all is silent and still.
And I will of them immortals make,
through pen and parchment scroll,
For the lives of those they take,
shall be recorded on the Roll.

I stand alone upon the slain,
For history's descendents I strive,
to caution of war's death and pain,
to keep our sons and daughters alive.


An entirely different viewpoint on the same topic, I think it's a fair response. All those who are into this sort of thing, feel free to pick it apart anf judge for yourself if my response is accurate enough!!!

Thanks for reading,
The Fat Kid

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