Going to war

Leaving home to serve in the war

He gathers his people from village and town
All will they serve under his golden crown
Fathers and sons says goodbye to their kin
In hope off surviving, in hope that they'll win
The women they cry cause they know it to well
A dead soldier's body is but only a shell
Armored and armed they're marching to war
To fight beside brothers and walk among gore
What tomorrow will bring, no one can tell
All that they know is that battle is hell
The promise to serve was an oath that they took
When they opened their eyes to take their first look
Standing in line with a shield and a sword
Eyeing the enemy, trusting the lord
Adrenaline is pumping as feet starts to run
In thunder, in storm, in rain and in sun
Raising the sword to make the first kill
The one who survives remember he will
When thing gets to hard, wine they will drink
To block the emotions, to block how they think
When they return, when conquered all hell
All that remains is a living man's shell

Reviews

[emmajoy]

Fine, fine meter as a poem, great content as a tale of courage then - the hell of war. Somehow, on a second read, can near hear war-drums, guess the meter.

'The one who survives remember he will -- -- -- -- -- -- All that remains is a living man's shell '

[DorothyParker]

This feels like a battle hymn, like a song that echoes inside the cavernous mind of a restless warrior.

[Papaya]

A good poem , well written.
And whether by sword or by gun, the one constant is death.
Loss of good lives and men and women.