To the Victor Goes the Spoils

To The Victor Goes The Spoils With a dark hand, deadly cut gashing deep No longer man- Now, sought he only peace. Once fallen foe, his life he could not keep Battle slain, soul flew upon its release. Victor took his victim's great sword and shield Rightful treasure he had so bravely earned. Dead left to rot on this red battlefield All pity each fallen had bravely spurned! Many fallen dispatched with a sharp spear, Others, a swift sword removing each head. None showed the coming of death any fear, Sent into valley, angels feared to tread! The victor smiled knowing someday his Fate. For in this gore, he relished and ate! R.J. Lindley July 20th 1980 Note-- I grabbed this old poem for my 850th poem presented here. Poem Syllable Counter Results Syllables Per Line: 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 Total # Syllables: 140 Total # Lines: 17 (Including empty lines) Words with (syllables) counted programmatically: N/A Total # Words: 106