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The moon was but a clouded gleam,
Its fitful light both cold and dreary,
We heard a hunting sasquatch scream
But could not run, so drained and weary.

Our group, the last of man's resistance,
Were no more than a hundred strong.
The Dark One challenged our existence,
His Orcs and wolves came chasing on.

Each bloody battle fought for homeland
Left fields of dead at such a cost
Kings and Nobles slain, we nomads
Running northwards, broken, lost.

Now comes our time, our running finished
We go not to our deaths alone
Our flag, unfurled, is undiminished,
We hold the high ground of our homes.

Our battle lines were quickly formed
Archers and spearmen in front row
In my mouth the taste of Iron,
Chieftain shouting "WAIT... WAIT.... NOW!)"

With my companions, all together,
We lift and brace our twelve-foot pikes.
A half-ton wolf impaled, but rider
Must be killed before he strikes.

We stand and face an arrow storm
As Orcish archers find the range,
Our few remaining troops reform
For our last stand, the final stage.

Then all goes quiet, the Orc ranks part.
The Dark One on black steed appears
He starts to cast a spell, cold- hearted,
Evil, powerful, dread and fears.

The sky is darkening, thunder clouds
are forming; blinding lightning flash.
The black clouds swirl around our men
We tremble at the thunder crash.

And in the writhing clouds we see
Half - formed, nightmarish monsters dance.
Lit by the lightning flashes, we
Know that it's over, have no chance.

Our fighters, brave, but mainly farmers,
Urged by the chieftain; "Hold the Line!"
He dresses in his father's armour,
To meet the Dark One, this last time.

Riding forward, armed and frightening
Carrying both sword and shield;
But the Dark One rules the lightning,
One sizzling bolt will make chief yield.

Like a brightly polished discus
Shield is thrown at Dark One's head;
At that moment this Colossus
Launches thunder bolt instead.

Burnished bronze spun into lightning,
Blinding flash as shield explodes,
Bringing fiery death to Goblins
Survivors flee down southward roads.

The Dark One's helmet curbed his vision.
Lost him control of thunderstorm.
The lightning flew like homing pigeon,
Back to the one who did it harm.

The lightning then set fire to Dark One
At that a mighty cheer was raised
On fiery horse his blazing skeleton
Lit my way home, across the braes......

Collected next day from the battle,
Pieces of blackened, broken shield
Each piece cleaned until the metal
Once again like mirror gleamed.

But when the armourer re-formed
The shield, from each odd piece
The legend of the shield was born
Enough bronze had been found to form
A shield for every man who stormed
The Orc lines to bring peace.

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing stage: 


This one's long and beautiful Tam. Naturally, the subject you chose is attractive to me.

I enjoyed the story too.

However, in many places, you clearly compromised the grammar, probably to fit in the meter or something. That was a great bother while reading.

The rhyme was brilliant in many places.

No verse is free for the man who wants to do a good job. - TS Eliot

Thanks for taking the time to visit and comment, I'm glad you liked it. Without getting into too much detail, I think the normal rules of grammar are there to be woven into the narrative established by the poem. As you say, metre and rhyme are more important.



author comment

I like rhyming vers which tells a tale which one can follow as your poems do thanks

If you do, then check out the rest of the workshop

No verse is free for the man who wants to do a good job. - TS Eliot

I try to write narrative where I can. I enjoy story-telling in verse, maintains a connection with the past, I suppose.
Thanks for the kind words


author comment
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