Best At Arm Poems
It was the time of Hadrian
18 years old, became a man
Said, goodbye to those back there
Left, became a legionnaire
Bade farewell to all at home
Serve and protect the gates of Rome
Became a mason, built the way
The mighty army will not sway
Joined into the conturbenium
With seven other new fresh men
A fighting unit, proud of Rome
Eight young men who just left home
This was to be my family
This was to be my destiny
To live as one and share a tent
Become as one, become cement
Intense training with full kit march
With hunger pang and thirst of parch
The Roman army life is tough
The food and water just enough
Hunger for food, hunger for kill
Hunger for war with well taught skill
Off to battle, the time has come
The Roman legions all as one
The enemy in all their hordes
Shall feel the wrath of Roman swords
Pigs head formation, shields high
Sword at arm length, points to the sky
Edge towards the enemy line
Take his life or he takes mine
The ballista's placed in tactical zones
Begin to hurl their heavy stones
Which crush the foe, create panic
The enemy have met their satanic
The line is broke, the army through
Heads have rolled, blood has spew
The heat, the gore, the screams, the pain
As swords slash flesh and flesh again
Some try to flee, its far to late
The enemy slain at Rome's great gate
A message sent out to one and all
Try and take Rome and you will fall.
She was standing on the flight deck,
soldier girl in full gear,
she reflects,
as she was trained to pick up the rear,
thinking of her past life,
she was a mother, and a wife,
that made a promise, she’d be back,
but now she is out at sea in a middle of an attack,
she felt their tears,
she sensed their fears,
and the fears of other soldiers running past her at full speed,
brothers and sisters at arm on the high sea,
some shot, some bleed,
as the ocean feeds,
and they try to flee,
a superior fleet in retreat,
as the incoming bombs made the ship debris,
she turned to her captain,
the man she had trusted most,
saw the bombs instantly turn him into a ghost,
she shook her head in exasperation,
war puts them in that situation,
her family wondering how she’s doing,
and she’ wonders that too,
as the destruction to the ship left no clue,
every fiber of her being struggled for stability,
but her flesh ripped apart with such incredibility,
as she barely restrained her fury,
ghost fighting a spirit, a spirit fighting a ghost,
then her ship finally went down,
and she hung her head,
they were never found,
the soldier girl in full gear, dead.
THE MORAN
Dreadlocks running down his shoulders
So red to pass for a bloodbath
But traditional beauty veins deep
My brother the great Moran
His eyes black with strange look
Not fear but ready to strike
His white teeth gives bright smile
My brother the great Moran
Too strong to carry loads and kill
Black strong arms ready to crush
Broad dark haired chest indeed healthy
My brother the great Moran
Up high they jump across the air
Brown traditionally beautified legs
Keep off track lest they pass for metal rods
My brother the great Moran
The white beaded shield always at arm
The long spear his weapon his hunt
The lion smell him the deer he feast on
My brother the great Moran
Its not bedtime don’t query the sheets
They make his clothing hide his nakedness
Two birds with one stone, they serve purpose at night
My brother the great Moran
when we are at our best
we are the best team in the world
controlling the pace
keeping our opponents at arm length
getting it done
making it right
moving towards our goal
and setting the pace
even in response
when they rally back
we look towards that
goal of obtaining
and making
our opponets
belive beyond
that shadow of doubt
they have been defeated!