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Greeting Card Maker | Poem Art Generator

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i. At the centre of the world: Back in the Roman days of yore-- A voice echoed, that decreed To a crowd of commons, lost and unsure: "Our rivers run dried, the Wrath of Gods, Needs must be pacified By human blood, our slaves shall shed, Our warriors will provide-- Thus merciful Heavens shall send rain-- Be at peace with Man again''. ii. And on the said day, adorned with masters, Stately Lords of highest rank and score, Awaited by the general crowd, Fiercer men and more, A scaffold was drawn, even as The sand blew a wind in every watchful eye, Making less some cheer of each human That wistfully searched the sky... Yes, this very spoken day, The sky that hued nor tanned, Saw three armed men striding the List-- The mightiest of this land-- One stood like a boulder, Crixus was his name, With him along, Thracian Spartacus-- A slave that rose to fame, Both against a third, a towering Beast, 'The Shadow' called Theokales, iii. Old and young, rich and rugged-- Uneasily was each seated Some worn out voice, cried ''Now Fight!'', Another one repeated "Fight now!", thus began all audience, And now it began...: The first few blows went to them Whose blades reeked with a stain; They'd done it--or thought they had When the heart-torn beast once fell-- Not for long--then to rise again As death would from Hell... His choppy face became a smile, His gruesome sword and shield Came like a blizzard--a tempest harsh-- More blood bathe the field... A barbarous show in the rink: One, and two, and mightier blows Were mete and dole on them throughout They bled--Crixus lay in a dross (Lo! The skies had clouds about!): But Thracian hauled-up to his last-- He rose too, after many a fall-- The strength in him seemed failing him When a fallen Crixus gave a call: (Having lifted-up his head-gear, And held it in the Sun, Such, that the glare would blind the Beast), A sinister deed had savagely begun: He hacked him--got him to his knees (While "Kill!", shouted the multitude)-- He crossed his blades, brought 'em down-- The lauding masters bellowed in forsoothe: A ''slash!'' had filled-in the silenced sound, A headless cadaver fell to the ground... iv. Thus did end with reeking blood and sand A deed that did just start; They were pleased, that were to be, In this very art.... Glistening eyes 'mid festoons of thund'rous cheer, And amid rain, Watched Thracian--his sword upheld, That stood-by the one he'd slain...

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The Scenes: the First Gladiators of Rome

i. At the centre of the world: Back in the Roman days of yore-- A voice echoed, that decreed To a crowd of commons, lost and unsure: "Our rivers run dried, the Wrath of Gods, Needs must be pacified By human blood, our slaves shall shed, Our warriors will provide-- Thus merciful Heavens shall send rain-- Be at peace with Man again''. ii. And on the said day, adorned with masters, Stately Lords of highest rank and score, Awaited by the general crowd, Fiercer men and more, A scaffold was drawn, even as The sand blew a wind in every watchful eye, Making less some cheer of each human That wistfully searched the sky... Yes, this very spoken day, The sky that hued nor tanned, Saw three armed men striding the List-- The mightiest of this land-- One stood like a boulder, Crixus was his name, With him along, Thracian Spartacus-- A slave that rose to fame, Both against a third, a towering Beast, 'The Shadow' called Theokales, iii. Old and young, rich and rugged-- Uneasily was each seated Some worn out voice, cried ''Now Fight!'', Another one repeated "Fight now!", thus began all audience, And now it began...: The first few blows went to them Whose blades reeked with a stain; They'd done it--or thought they had When the heart-torn beast once fell-- Not for long--then to rise again As death would from Hell... His choppy face became a smile, His gruesome sword and shield Came like a blizzard--a tempest harsh-- More blood bathe the field... A barbarous show in the rink: One, and two, and mightier blows Were mete and dole on them throughout They bled--Crixus lay in a dross (Lo! The skies had clouds about!): But Thracian hauled-up to his last-- He rose too, after many a fall-- The strength in him seemed failing him When a fallen Crixus gave a call: (Having lifted-up his head-gear, And held it in the Sun, Such, that the glare would blind the Beast), A sinister deed had savagely begun: He hacked him--got him to his knees (While "Kill!", shouted the multitude)-- He crossed his blades, brought 'em down-- The lauding masters bellowed in forsoothe: A ''slash!'' had filled-in the silenced sound, A headless cadaver fell to the ground... iv. Thus did end with reeking blood and sand A deed that did just start; They were pleased, that were to be, In this very art.... Glistening eyes 'mid festoons of thund'rous cheer, And amid rain, Watched Thracian--his sword upheld, That stood-by the one he'd slain...