© G.V., 10-22-2012, All Rights ReservedSponsor: Poet Destroyer AContest Name: free verseplacement: 1st
Pursued fromward eastern directions I stand,
aeriforms of the dawn appear to annunciate,
that soldiers close in, the borders to infiltrate,
to slaughter farmers and our lands to demand.
I stand upon black turf, damp from the rain;
unfaithful disorderly horde closes in to border;
the peace of pasture subsides to onset order
and the waving of steppe horses' black mane.
I slaughter the attacking, impertinent mortals,
benevolently I send them to warriors' terra;
Crimson spills onto Tagma Flags of Porphyra,
and on my face to dissipate on Spring's portals.
The flag waves, its red in dawn, and morning
rises innocently from its euphoric nostalgia,
forsooth blessed are Mistral's liturgy and eulogia,
the orderly kills of barbarians and mourning.
A blissful Helios lifts to his vaulting course,
while my blade sends the condemned to Hades;
prodigious bliss, the slaughtered mourn fades,
while honey bees buzzing muffles my remorse.
Dark form I am, on border's deathly fallow,
my tagma blade defines this oblation to earth,
the ornis stare amazed at her insatiable dearth,
along this holy communion's denatured hallow.
Through this virtuous and triumphant passage,
slow I denature bleeding to an euphoric river,
I am a pasture of Argemones and dew of silver,
and I become the Mistral that carries my ravage.
© G.V., 10-22-2012 All rights reserved