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Rob Rutledge Mar 2012
Those feet that once stood tall and proud
Under dark obsidian clouds,
Travel now once more upon
The hallowed grounds of Albion.
Through shrines and shires the Iceni ride
To the seat of ancient power,
Cross moors and mountains
Past marble fountains
To the steps of a Roman tower.
How they shall cower!
As Boudicca comes spear in hand.
They'll soon retreat,
Give up and leave
Back to their promised land.
Boudicca, long hair tangled and bunched; fiery flame red hair.

Warrior queen of the Iceni, daughter of these isles of tin.

Defender of freedom, leader of men, slayer of legions.

Through the mist the Britons, Celtic in origin; saw the legions.

Row upon row of tightly packed troops, shields locked together!

Flanked on either side by cavalry.  Above the silence orders could

Be heard echoing across the field, the leather harness’s creaked

Metal chinking, horses stomping and snorting, in the stillness.

Through the mist came the first rays of sunlight glinting on sharpened

Swords and spearheads; horns began to blow as the steady

Stomp of the legions moved forward in formation.

Boudicca’s eyes peered out from a face of blue woe. Bow strings

In turn began to creak death, as archers pulled back on their bows.

A slow chant from the Iceni, slow at first, began to build into a crescendo

Of noise, as the boom, boom of sword and axe rapped against wood shields.

Boudicca flame haired warrior queen stood proud and fearless on her chariot;

Daughters on each side of her, defiant against Gaius Suetonius Pauline’s

And the might of Rome.

Oh what a sight it must have been!
‘Cata, pick up the children, then
We’ll all away to the woods,
They say there’s a mighty army come
To steal our homes and goods,
They’re capturing slaves along the way
So we need to be aware,
These men of steel with their breastplates on
Take children with fair hair.’

Sca had looked at his wife, she had
The hair of ripened corn,
And so had both of their children from
The day that they were born,
But he was dark, from the Iceni
And his face was painted blue,
He’d come from the beach they’d landed on
Where the blood was mixed with dew.

‘I’ve never seen quite so many ships
They’re standing off in the bay,
And way on out, the horizon seems
To be filled with ships today,
They’re crushing all that’s before them,
Our chiefs are down on their knees,
They know we can’t over-awe them
With our spears and charioteers.’

‘This army’s bringing its mighty gods
And they have this one called Mars,
He rules, they say, each clashing of arms
From way up there in the stars,
Their shields are linked in a solid wall
That we can’t get through to fight,
They’ll rule us now as they rule the Gaul
So we must be gone tonight.’

They made their way to a hermit’s cave
And they found some shelter there,
But the Legion came and they took his wife
For the sake of her golden hair,
His children too, were taken away
From the land of their loving home,
And the people gasped in the marketplace
When the two were sold, in Rome.

While he fled back to the Iceni
And he waged guerrilla war,
Served in the army of Boadicea
Once she had come to the fore.
She stood, six foot and her tumbling hair
Was red, right down to her waist,
‘A terrible sight,’ the Romans said
As she laid their cities waste.

They’d stolen all of her lands and laid
The lash across her back,
They’d ***** both of her daughters,
They were fond of doing that,
They didn’t know that the Iceni
As a tribe were more than bold,
Or of the terrible price they’d pay
When they cast her out in the cold.

She wiped out Camulodunum,
And slaughtered the Romans there,
Went on to sack Londinium,
This woman with flame red hair,
She burnt the city down to the ground
While the population fled,
The only people that stayed in town
Were lying in heaps, the dead!

They slew the Hispana Legion
That had marched down from the north,
Went on to Verulamium
And carried a flaming torch,
The Romans there were slaughtered,
The city razed to the ground,
But not before the warrior Sca
Had saved the wife he found.

She’d been enslaved in a Roman house
Had disappeared for years,
And when he pulled her out of the flames
She couldn’t see him for tears,
So they fled to the northern borders where
The Romans held no sway,
And their blond haired, blue-eyed offspring,
They still live there today.

David Lewis Paget
Olivia Kent May 2013
Kiss of Poetry

You tickled my fancy,
With poetic tongue outstanding,
Non compliant,
So demanding,
While your pen stood up,
Bleeding ,as she stroked me,

In classic rhythm,
Sung along in time,
Your words span wildly,
Out of control,
As mischievous child,
While diving deep in passion's hole!

Finding darkness in my light,
You paint it black,
I paint it white,
In unison,
We fight in muse,
A battle royal,
Stand strong against those who decimate our joy,

Poetic smiles in humour,
She makes us laugh,
Flirting hearts out of control,
Poetry, from glory hole,
She makes us fight without delight!
She keeps me sane,
She strokes my pain,
She never asks me questions!

Never ever questions angels,
We are blessed, with such treasures shared!
Dark side of the moon surprised,
While on poetic bike we ride,
Through created aura fantastic,
Feigning madness made in brains,
As warrior queen, Bodica, masquerading,
Escapading in dark trenches,
Met Iceni tribal folk,
In magical heroic mystery,
Unified declaration of victory,
Declaration that our lady lives in burning hearts!
Where only truth and trust remain!

By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Max Vale Jan 2017
Here is tale from long ago,
It goes long but you wont get bored.
Where heroes slay a ferocious foe,
And this is their long lost lore...

Centuries ago when Romans ruled the land,
The barbaric Britons tried and failed.
To defend their noble land,
And so the Romans came and hailed.

However one queen would not have that,
She would cut the Romans down.
Despaired that her husband's death,
She made sure the Romans drowned.

Soon there were a ferocious battle,
The Britons fought strong and held.
They reclaimed their land and cattle,
And killed the Roman general.

Despite their victory,
Sadly it wont last long.
The Romans came and killed,
And the Britons were doomed all along.

The queen of Iceni,
Soon took her life.
The Britons remained buried her by a tree,
Next to her husband a loving wife.

So here ends my tale,
Its sad but true.
But to all Britons hail,
For they had victories too.
Cheers history.

— The End —