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Nathan Douglas Day
Poems
May 2012
Battle Story (version two)
Through desert plains and stormy seas
we travelled hand in hand.
We battled countless enemies
throughout this hidden land.
To claim the throne and throw the man
who claims himself as king.
To banish him and curse and ****
his soul that will not sing.
The soldiers come the heroes fall.
The swarms keep coming in.
Their numbers grow and multiply,
our forces shrinking thin.
There is no way to turn around,
go back to where we came.
We must continue taking ground
and not forget our names.
The battles lasted days at times,
the fighting will not cease.
The men are falling in their lines,
but does that give them peace?
Our numbers small and shrinking still,
regroup with less and less
The army charges flattens hills
and leaves behind such mess.
We dig the holes and place the dead
inside the holes to rest.
Their faces fill us all with dread.
We try to fight our best.
The castle shadow covers us.
Our heart can feel the doom.
Throughout the night the battlefield
is lit up by the moon.
The clouds they build and roll across
the sky towards the west.
Around my neck is hung a cross
for Him I do my best.
The archers from the other side,
they line up all around.
We hear the swish of arrows fly,
embed into the ground.
I look around. Of us alive,
there are so very few.
With numbers down to only five
how then can we push through?
At this point another falls,
an arrow through his neck.
His shield cannot stop arrows all
while broken from the trek.
They charge at us we only just
deflect their blows of hate.
We have to win! We simply must
get up and through the gate.
Our numbers then go down to three
a sword went through his heart,
he falls and ceases then to breathe
his armour lined with darts.
We fight them for what seems like hours
but only seconds pass.
Our blood is covering the flowers
that bloom there in the grass.
Weariness has settled in
to our so tired bones.
Our pride and honour caving in,
we’re so far from our homes.
We lose the third, his legs were tak-
en out from under him.
I saw the hammer swing and break
his legs right on the shins.
Now left with two, we know we’ve lost
a solemn nod is shared.
So back to back, we face the host
and all their teeth are bared.
There is no chance of standing down,
we’re fighting til we die.
We drop so many to the ground
I hear my teammate cry.
I see the arrow bursting forth
out of his bleeding arm.
I turn my head back to the north
and cry out in alarm.
My throat is sore from calling out
above all of the noise.
The army’s turned us from strong men
into young frightened boys.
Written by
Nathan Douglas Day
Nairne
(Nairne)
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