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"camlann" poems
On the day he died King Arthur ordered his knights told them to prepare to fight and maybe even die; He was brave and so was Mordred who put a sword through his father, the once and future tyrant. At Camlann, the day was hot, yet so cold; the air was misty and the sea boiled; The trees tilted away looking scared and ashamed; The prophets were quiet, tight lipped, they sat up high, chain-smoking on the peace pipe. Mordred's head was pins-and-needles. He clawed at his sword in stress, looking at the opposite camp. He thought of his mother at Avalon, wondering if she'll bury him there or his father. What will he do upon arriving with heavy steps on the fields of Camlann? He feels lost. King Arthur was brandishing Excalibur, lost in thoughts of murderous sons and treacherous friends and cheating wives. He was reminiscing of his sister and the ***** secret that lay, all his shame, out in the open. “'Tis long overdue.” He pondered. Then came the hour, the minute, the second; On the plains of Camlann an ordinary soldier saw the heavens through the clouds, while the great knights were busy with bloodbath and sacrifice. He screamed with joy and terror as the swords clashed with each other. In the midst of the bloodthirsty, confused horde was Mordred, a ****** smile on his face and his ragged blade tore a gaping hole in his father's abdomen. As soon as he hit the floor, Lancelot came from beyond. He was too late; his king dead, his queen devastated, banished; she fled unwilling, but obediently. There was only one thing left to do; Lancelot knew well. So King Arthur met his end at Camlann and died with his son, Mordred. That was the day their lives ended; The lake Avalon took them in and swallowed their bodies whole; Lancelot watched the fire burn away. Nimue, at the bottom of the lake, broke the sword in half and wailed. The world got quiet and moved on, carrying the weight of forever lost Camelot.
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Feb 7, 2020
Feb 7, 2020 at 4:34 AM UTC
The End Days of Camelot
On the day he died King Arthur ordered his knights told them to prepare to fight and maybe even die; He was brave and so was Mordred who put a sword through his father, the once and future tyrant. At Camlann, the day was hot, yet so cold; the air was misty and the sea boiled; The trees tilted away looking scared and ashamed; The prophets were quiet, tight lipped, they sat up high, chain-smoking on the peace pipe. Mordred's head was pins-and-needles. He clawed at his sword in stress, looking at the opposite camp. He thought of his mother at Avalon, wondering if she'll bury him there or his father. What will he do upon arriving with heavy steps on the fields of Camlann? He feels lost. King Arthur was brandishing Excalibur, lost in thoughts of murderous sons and treacherous friends and cheating wives. He was reminiscing of his sister and the ***** secret that lay, all his shame, out in the open. “'Tis long overdue.” He pondered. Then came the hour, the minute, the second; On the plains of Camlann an ordinary soldier saw the heavens through the clouds, while the great knights were busy with bloodbath and sacrifice. He screamed with joy and terror as the swords clashed with each other. In the midst of the bloodthirsty, confused horde was Mordred, a ****** smile on his face and his ragged blade tore a gaping hole in his father's abdomen. As soon as he hit the floor, Lancelot came from beyond. He was too late; his king dead, his queen devastated, banished; she fled unwilling, but obediently. There was only one thing left to do; Lancelot knew well. So King Arthur met his end at Camlann and died with his son, Mordred. That was the day their lives ended; The lake Avalon took them in and swallowed their bodies whole; Lancelot watched the fire burn away. Nimue, at the bottom of the lake, broke the sword in half and wailed. The world got quiet and moved on, carrying the weight of forever lost Camelot.
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So here I go At the hill of Camlann My Death will arrive soon I can't talk nor walk. Due to severe wounds I've got So i asked Bedevier To bring this sword Back to the real owner To take my immortality And tell Merlin to bring me To the garden Avalon.
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Oct 22, 2019
Oct 22, 2019 at 10:39 AM UTC
Worthy