The braveA Poem by ronThe brave The bagpipes whale as the two clans form. They march on each other blood lust in their eyes, the drummers drum to keep them in time. Cries of hearty souls bent on the death of the others I’m told. Swords drawn and axes raised what will become of the ones that are brave? Their clash is said to have raised the dead. The younger ones wait to be brought to the fight, when the word is said. Blood flies and cloths torn when the swords and the axes finely take hold. The cries of the living are not out done by the cries of the dead ones, as their breaths are undone. Fill in the ranks the word is spread. Hold the lines and no quarter will be given. They must pay but the reason has been forgotten. What could be gained if they worked for the good of each other? What was the reason for the fight that no one could remember in dawns early light? © 2013 ronFeatured Review
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3 Reviews Added on June 29, 2013 Last Updated on June 29, 2013 AuthorronImperial, CAAboutI have been writing on and off or more years than i care to remember. I started writing poetry, than i started a novel (still in the works), now I'm writing a six part short story erotic.. more..Writing
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