#gladiator
Though distance divides their waking worlds,
each night they find one another again.
In the silent realm of dreams,
his shadow seeks her fire,
and her heart calls him across the darkness
like an ancient star.
Beneath the trembling heavens they meet,
where no wall, no fate,
no mortal chain can hold them apart—
There, in that sacred place
untouched by dawn...
Nov 14, 2025
Nov 14, 2025 at 11:46 PM UTC
The battle is about to begin.
I am the Knight, he is the Gladiator—
and this is a battle of Truth.
Steel rang upon steel,
and the air was thick with the scent of iron and sweat.
Two warriors met beneath the gaze of eternity—
one, a mountain of muscle,
skin bronzed by a thousand suns,
eyes burning with the fire of the arena.
The other, a shadow of polished steel,
clad in the silence of the forge,
her form hidden beneath the will of the gods.
The gladiator struck first—
blades flashing like lightning,
each blow a hymn of war.
The knight staggered beneath the weight,
but the steel did not break,
the throat did not bleed,
the heart did not yield.
Again, the gladiator’s sword bit,
but the bite found no flesh—
only the cold, unyielding kiss of armor.
The crowd of unseen spirits roared in the heavens,
for the gods had wrapped the knight in their own breastplate,
as it is written: no arrow shall pierce her,
no sword shall drink of her blood.
Breathless, the giant faltered—
skin bare, throat bared to the wind,
heart beating unguarded beneath mortal ribs.
The knight saw the opening
and drove the steel deep into the center of that beating drum.
The earth drank the gladiator’s strength,
and silence fell like a veil.
The knight stood,
not by strength alone,
but by the shield of the unseen—
the armor of the gods,
which guards the throat,
guards the heart,
and delivers victory to the one the gods have chosen.
...
Aug 8, 2025
Aug 8, 2025 at 10:50 PM UTC
Some eighteen years ago
A kid was born in Chennai
Seven years rolled past
Time to learn games
Papa Rajni opted for Chess
The kid became a chess bee
And by his meteoric rise
Became a whizkid,
Breezily following the
Legacy of the legendary Vishy
Winning tournaments at will
Always going for the ****
Became IM and later, GM
This gem!
The chess lion set his sight
On bigger ****
Played big tournaments , slayed opponents
The lion roared, his rating soared
Through FIDE circuit
The lion jumped into the candidates’ arena
Played uncompromising chess,
Gukesh-the Gladiator!
And won the right to
Challenge Ding, the Chinese lion!
The lions arrived to the lion-land of Singapura
To match their wits in fourteen board games
They ducked, punched, waited, pounced
All over the chess board,
Like heavyweight champs,
Trading blows and drawing more,
The match neared its ******
In the eleventh game,
Caissa smiled at Gukesh
With this win,
he was soaring towards summit
Only to be pulled back by
Some daring play by Ding,
With a win, Ding was on song,
His regaining the grit
In his smile was writ.
With the thirteenth game
Ending in a draw
Increased the tension of chessbuffs
Of the universe,
Especially the Gukesh-guys
Who were rooted for the
Indian victory
Speculations rose over the fate
Of the fourteenth
Guesses and predictions made
On the possible tiebreak games
With advantage for Ding.
No said, Gukesh
Played the endgame,
Ended the game
Dethroned Ding
And became the King!!
Jan 13, 2025
Jan 13, 2025 at 12:19 PM UTC
You stand victorious, the crowd cheers your name.
The sound, like a wave upon the shore.
You walk, the broken lying around you like fallen branches.
Flashes of the battle that just ensued.
You were surprised it lasted as long as it did.
But as the dust settles you think to yourself "How the hell did I survive..... again?"
Apr 16, 2020
Apr 16, 2020 at 1:04 AM UTC
He was raised in the slave pits of Gaul
giving his everything, all
when provided the chance
learning sword shield and lance
excelling at killing the medium
large great and small
He might have come to his end
his knee and his body did bend
looking up he laughed
opponent with a draft
for genitalia no armor defends
A fistula of full mailed hand
a foe now left screaming on sand
Fellacio Dickus survived
his rival deprived
of his life and his Dickus, remand
This story has a sad close
Fellacio descended just as he rose
a sword to the nuts
removing his guts
fellatio's more of a **** but still blows
Jun 16, 2018
Jun 16, 2018 at 2:25 PM UTC
Gladiators wear
a twisted smile
More than a
little bit askew
The snarl of
disdainful contempt
and the optimism
of the eventual win
For him it's just
another judgment
day again
Confident in the outcome
His preparation is for war
Knowledge of the victories
triumphed in before
Behind the stoid steel facade
He glares upon the prey
Another snarling man
who expects to win the day
The adversary also
He wears the twisted smile
Expecting that
the man He sees
is another man whom
He will slay
For every day is
judgment day
again.
-R.
(10.17)
-LA
Nov 6, 2017
Nov 6, 2017 at 7:11 AM UTC
Vanquish or Vanish ,
That’s what they said,
Before I embraced the valour,
Of the dead,
Silence since reigns,
These dungeons deep,
For,
I was a Gladiator,
Who chose to weep.
The Arena that chanted ,
My mighty name,
The mellow maiden,
Who whispered the same;
They are but fractions,
Of an empire lost,
For passion sparked,
At honour's cost.
Gladiators will come,
And gladiators will go,
And yet,
None will dare embrace
His fallen foe.
The crowd will cheer,
As the Cowards will roar,
While I will weep,
At my dungeon door.
Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 10:34 AM UTC
Standing outside the coliseum
He wipes his tattered brow
As he waits in chains
And what remains
Of a worn and used nightgown
The oak doors creak as they slowly bow
He walks the axis road
The dogs at his heels, he knows, he feels
Pains that have been bestowed
A table is set upon which blades rest
The choice of which he makes
He reaches forward, picks up the sword
No room here for mistakes
The helmet is hot, he feels his breath
As he walks upon the field
He is a trapped snake inside a crate
He raises up his shield
His adversary stood there watching
With a shaking fretful eye
They prepared to fight until deaths bite
Took and run them dry
With one fell swing of the sword
He brings his foe down
The steel glistens in the sunlight
Enhanced with the smell of blood
The crowd cheers and roars
What do they know of it?
The life he has taken
It cannot be replaced
He is trapped inside
He cries for freedom inside
Slowly he dies inside
Inside himself.
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 6:40 PM UTC
The thing that kills me most
Shattering me from within
Is not the absence of your shield
But this abrupt awareness
Of the awful emptiness
That has now settled into the place
Which hope has just vacated.
I ride out into the colloseum
Battle-clad in armour
Club swinging, sword at the ready
A quiver full of arrows
Just to defend you.
But I will fall at the very first shot
This armour I call my skin
Will be the death of me.
Because the truth is
You were my armour
You were my shield
And then I realised you never were.
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 2:01 PM UTC