Best Battle Axe Poems


Premium Member When Savages Sang Strongly 1

The leopard kills for love
sun burns for souls,
the moon moans for blood
stars frost the steppes,
the fire of your eyes
warms the wastelands,
alone the horse rides
Tree of Life leans to the winds,
the arrow strikes deep
a wound becomes wise,
the griffin sees you sleep
in this dream somebody dies,
lightning hesitates for your heartbeat
the storm doesn't stop for sympathies,

The storm doesn't stop for sympathies 
pick up your head and move towards Truth,
permafrost phantoms play for promises
amid the hills of hero's, ancestor's proof,
Kurgan Tombs keeping treasures young 
from the Northern Lights to the Pontic Plains,
memories of millenia the Scythians have sung
from Hyperborea to the Pyramids, 
with bow and battle axe liberty was earned
empires paid tribute to their valor,
they were the Masters of Eurasia's fortune
their spirit will always seek a new frontier,
the world pulled them away with a modern dawn
only the sun knows where to find the future,

Only the sun knows where to find the future
only the future knows where to find hope's clarity,
We embrace the song of the suffering vulture
rely not on the feed of death's charity,
We venture through the danger
exposed to the ancient elements,
predators prowl with patient hunger
We are prepared to wear the weapons,
Colonizing the wilderness with wisdom
We bring industry and culture,
there is a dance we call the Soul Storm
in which the falcon rides karma's fire,
when the Devil blows war's iron horn
destiny demands that we be the debtor,

J.A.B.  2020

Premium Member Odin's Army

I fell in battle, sword in hand, 
Invading someone else’s land.
Then I saw her, and she reached down, 
To escort me from the battleground.
I’d let her take me anywhere, 
With her winged helmet and braided hair.

She had me stand ‘neath Odin’s throne, 
Where each warrior must stand alone.
One-eyed Odin judged me to be 
Worthy to serve in his last army….
Daily killed and resurrected--
(Not quite the afterlife expected!)

Samurais taught me to sword-fight.	 
I learned spear and shield from a Hoplite.	
Vikings taught me the battle axe, 
And the Persians taught me sneak attacks.
We die each day and then come back, 
Always practicing for Ragnorak.

She brings me mead, my Valkyrie, 
And sometimes at night she favors me.
Since she’s nearby, it’s just as well--
This isn’t Heaven, but not quite Hell.
We’ll fight and sing to the war drums, 
Waiting the day that Ragnorak comes.


(Chorus)
Our days are spent in miseries, 
But at night we have the Valkyries.
Riposte and lunge, thrust and parry; 
That’s all we do in Odin’s army.

"battle-Axe"

I'm Made of Iron, Hard and Lean
My Name's Well Known, I'm Wicked Mean!
   
   Heads Still Moan from My Crack,
   Some Went Under, Upon Their Back;

So if you See Me in a Fight,
Run Like Hell, yea Take Flight!

   For Peace and Mercy I Have'nt Concern;
   It's Blood I Crave, and Yours I Yearn!
© Bill Frew  Create an image from this poem.


Premium Member Commandment Battlement - Part Two -

If you fight with fervent heart,
roar of lion from your part,
perhaps true kindness will impart the vengence of a Goddess staved,
the moon now red with the noon's dead,
in your heart I'm sure is dread,for this rite you were not bred,
many times an oracle told: men from feet made of lead
are mercenaries poorly fed; in countless meadows they have bled,
will they toil loyal,paid by your moldy bread?

So go, my foe of woe,wear the royal robe to toe,
and drink the wine bitter slow,
I am Lord of the sword,a righteous king of the horde,
of many Gods I've implored
to smite this monger to the floor,
not for thirst of the gore
but to have a legend's lore,
to protect a People free with me,before you perish it will be!

The priests posture purely now at the front ranks with faces skyward
petitioning to consecrate,
as the cavalry concentrates hard on their horse's fate
feeling the trumpet's terrible,seething sound,
a wilting wind softly weathers the seasoned infantry's instinct
from gaze to green ground,
while they infer the jarring armor jangle of heavy horsemen,
sufficient to strangle reluctance to prostrate,
a low thunder thumps my ears,my spirit leers across,
limbs like gears I raise my battle axe ahigh,

Tepid tepid rain,from whence you came
not the curving cloud but from the adversary's frame,
the color of the warm rain is the magenta stain
of enemy's brain on my horse's mane,
the Bishop busies as assassin,an orthodox art that has always been,
your Knight is nigh,about to die,

J.A.B.  Part  Two -

One Hard Pea

“She’s let me down again Clare Cox” the ‘missus’ fumed about her wayward aid.
Now with the job to do upon her own. For other arrangements have been made.
“You’re helping me today” she pointed “And I don’t want any spiels”.
“Fair go” I replied, “I don’t know nothing, about serving meals on wheels”.

Well I soon learnt I tell you, the wife’s anger soon did heal
When I carried in the soups and sweets. She took in the midday meal.
We propped at all the diner’s homes, where the folks would say g’day.
Most were ‘oldies’ that I rarely saw, but I knew them anyway.

The ‘missus’ ‘neath her breath, gave out a groan “Prepare for this old one.
She’s a flamin’ whingeing ‘battle axe’, which can’t be pleased by anyone,
It doesn’t matter what we do, she will grumble and abuse,
If it’s not about the food we bring, it’s dirt upon our shoes”.

“Who’s that?” I heard sarcastically. The ‘missus’ gave an enforced grin.
“Why Aggie he’s my husband”…“Does he know what he’s doing?
He better not be like Clare Cox, that ‘tart’ tried to choke me”.
Aggie put a plate upon the table that held one solitary pea.

“Look at this!” She pointed, to the shrivelled up hard pea.
“How could anyone eat that, it’s like a rock as you can see”.
I picked the pea up off the plate, rolled it ‘round my mouth a mite.
Gripping the pea between my teeth, I found it way too hard to bite.

“You’re right you know” I grinned at Aggie. Still the scowl wore on her face.
I tied to humour her a bit, when I said, “You have a case,
I’ll take it to a lawyer, he’ll sue the council for your pea”… 
“Well don’t forget to say,” she said…“It’s already been through me”.

Ye-King and the Jewel

Up above they shine,
Obliterating darkness by their light-
Ye-king and the jewel.
The warrior and his battle- axe;
Each to other a better half-
Two peas in a pod – 
Monumental monolith.

Worthy to sing for the bobby-dazzler:
Scapula that breaks the bow-wow’s jaw,
Oak that blunts sawyer’s axe,
Crocodile that changes waves with tail.
I dare you not, I dare you not YK.
The lion that once dared you;
Its flesh you tampered with wine,
Its skin you made casual sandals,
Its fangs now dangling in the celler.

The light is the jewel,
Radiating gorgeously her blaze;
Beam of light,bevy of beauties.
Peju is the light, she is the beacon;
She is the keel that keeps the ship afloat -
The buoyancy that deters every gravity.

Yeah,Ye-king wears a crown;
Pe-jewel is  the shine on it.

10/ 1/16.
For my big brother Yekini Odusanya and his darling wife, ´Peju. I am proud of you


Alfred the Great

Alfred the Great (born Wantage, 849)

Market place; he stands in isolation.
Known for culinary conflagration,
The object of two vandalous attacks –
How scandalous to steal his battle axe !
He burned the cakes and chased the Danes
But what makes Alfred great ?

At Ashdown with his massive axe and helm
He fought the Danes and drove them from his realm.
A firm believer in education,
In order, justice, administration,
He burned the cakes and chased the Danes
And this made Alfred great.

A naval fleet he set upon the sea
And with Mercian and Welsh diplomacy
His armies, garrisons, forts and palisades
Ensured defence against all future raids.
He burned the cakes and chased the Danes
Isn’t our Alfred, Great ?
© Mike Jones  Create an image from this poem.

Pray To Someone

Can I get a witness, to make my mind up right 
Can I get a spotlight, in the darkest night 
Some roads are rolling, there ain't no end in sight 
Just like my freedom, the price is never right 
Hey someone, pray to someone 
Hey someone , pray to someone 

Judged by a cover, the gavel will break your back 
First day of summer, I'm screaming New York where you at 
Need a word of wisdom, to carry this battle axe,
 It's always something, I wear it from hell and back 

Hey someone, pray to someone 
Hey someone, pray to someone

 It wasn't long ago you left your soul by the side of the road 
Wishing you could find one single ride 
Staring like a man with the sun in his eyes

Battle Axe and Her Republican Trumpeting Waze - Part 2

No sooner than we set foot within said domicile
attestation to so called gentleman’s’ agreement with guile
initially infrequently, but incessantly as time elapsed Isle 
never forget (nor will spouse forgive) with rancor and rile 
ceaselessly besieging, bruiting bare-knuckle skirmishes 
for us to remove ourselves and personal belonging with vile
lent vitriolic wrath from the day we decamped 
within hoity -toity Mainline – 
our matted unwelcome would endure for quite a white. 
*          I          *          S          *          I         *          N          *          G                  
With hindsight and accumulative less cloudy fifty shades of gray, 
an irrevocable clear er voyance viz summoning forth would lay
an irreconcilable rift (rivaling the Mariana), and constant nay 
saying presaged an emotional price to pay 
whereat we deterred sale of vintage crystal balls – our stay
purported prevented sale of precious heirlooms – oye vay
in tandem to estate sale divvied up, cuz we whar in the way.
*          I          *          S          *          I         *          N          *          G                  
Analogous to Little Red Riding Hood, we could not see 
blitzkrieg, cannonading, incessant strafe carpet bombing re:
bloody onslaught from the generation of elder vipers que
endured feeling trapped by memorabilia meant nothing to me
*          I          *          S          *          I         *          N          *          G                  
Warfare found us hunkering down within said tract housing unit, 
a fusillade fired off re: porting volleys of character assassination 
bombarded this unfortunate civilian clearly implicated to whit
for being a non jewish schlemiel inducing endless economic         
denigrating calumniations – fulminating against this “twit”
we decried wicked, vicious, unwarranted abuse would not quit 
with no defense against slings and arrows, a plague round
of ceaseless, ferocious, and insidious pilloried that pit 
pendulous injustices for each of our **** (emphatic branding 
per diem me own scrawny gluteus maximus  to git 
the hell out – eventually hiring a lawyer with eviction edict!

Getting Off To a Good Start With the New Boss

Getting Off to a Good Start With the New Boss

By Elton Camp

The employee lounge buzzed with news.
After a search, a new boss they did choose
And what gave us all such a big surprise
They had picked a woman to supervise

None of us knew whom they had selected
Nor what sort of changes could be expected
None had seen her.  A name was all we had
Didn’t sound too promising:  Lucy Felixgrad

I decided that down the hall I’d sneak
At the new boss maybe get a little peek
In the boss’ outer office stood a hot young gal
I figured it’d be smart to make myself her pal

“The boss has brought her secretary along.
With that I see absolutely nothing wrong.
Were you her helper where she used to work?
If so, please warn us if she is just a big jerk.”

“When may we expect the old battle axe to arrive?
To get along with her all of us are going to strive.
And that wouldn’t be a bit hard for us to do
If only she was a sexy young fox like you.”

“Oh, thank you. I have known her all my life.
Of the president of the company, she’s wife.
Sorry, but she will be the worst you ever had.
Let me introduce myself.  I’m Lucy Felixgrad.”
© Elton Camp  Create an image from this poem.

The Lord of Second Chance

THE LORD OF SECOND CHANCE

‘I will give you back years eaten by cankerWORM’
Promises like this are to our heavenly father, a NORM
Ability to honour His words are what make up His FORM
No matter the challenges we face, even in a STORM
Our God is able to turn around our situation, never lukeWARM
He has promised us mansions, even if you stay in a DORM

For many people, problems come with speed of a WIND
They look around for succor, but are unable to FIND
At those times, the promises in the scriptures come to MIND
You lift up your voice to the heavens, then loose and BIND
Folks are succeeding in this world, don’t be left beHIND.
 Take up your battle-axe; if it’s blunt, try to GRIND

Though you have wasted time on worthless LEISURE
The Lord has you in mind, do search the SCRIPTURE
But you must be ready to follow Him, not a MIXTURE
His servants keep reminding us of the RAPTURE
The Lord’s coming is not on any calendar or FIXTURE
The call to commitment is greater than any call of NATURE

© Wole Popoola 
September 2015

Angel, Spread Your Wings

Prepare for a battle with fire. Grab your spear and pick axe and launch your graceful
movements at the flames. Swing till blood swells the ground like a sponge. There is no
punishment for your actions, you are an unstoppable train of murder, doing the job of a
thousand soldiers. The blessing of the lord is set upon you, you destroy with the divine
entity alive in your merciless weapon. Your arms are sore yet feel no pain, your enemy
however hurts like a wounded wolf. But you are a tiger, an animal of vast strength and
might, your battle axe swings with the speed of a cheetah, and your prey is a lonely
mouse, as small as the dust in your ears.
The devil does not hear your cry, for you have done no wrong. The devil cry's himself, for
he is next, he is next to be slaughtered by the majesty of your onslaught. And you will
show the beast no mercy, for he has tortured the souls of your comrades kin since the
beginning of time, and death itself will not stop you on your odyssey for revenge. But
first you must kill everyone and everything before you can touch the fallen angel, and you
do it with blessing, as the souls of the fallen live in paradise, and spread their newly
acquired wings.

Who Am I

I am a treasure 
that has no measure 

i am bought with a price 
therefore no man can trouble 
me 

i am a pillar 
that needs no filler 

i am a battle axe 
not an axe for battle 

those who mock me 
wil ask to have my field 
mucked 

i am bound for the top 
not to watch events unfolding 
at the top 

the nature of man is to pull 
me down 
but my God has lifted me 

i am chosen 
not a cast away 

God will make me a terror 
not to be in horror 
in the kingdom of darkness 

i shall be a light 
to illuminate the dark tunnels 
of life 

i am a royal priesthood 
who will dine with kings 

though the devil wisely 
foolishly thinks he has won 
i know he is a bad loser 

the obstacles he has planted 
before me 
are meant to lead to my lifting 
up 

when people see me 
they will appreciate the glory 
of God over my life 

the almighty has placed me 
above my enemies 
i shall not be moved 

every hold of sin over my life 
that the devil uses as leverage 
over my life 
 has taken away with his 
precious blood 

God has singled me out 
to liberate people from sin 
and to be a tormentor and a 
terror to the kingdom of 
darkness 

i am a winner 
not a loser 

the enemies almost conquered 
but the lord was there to pull 
me out of the ditch that has 
been set for me 

the lord is my refuge and my 
strength 
i am saved 
by the saviour himself

Premium Member Rpg Warrior

O,  elvenstone! O, elvenstone!
O, would that you could be my own.
To quest exhausted, all these years,
And not obtain those pointy ears
To sharpen sense, to hear my phone.

O battle axe! O battle axe!
For thy pursuit, my patience lacks.
Through garbage bins in fishing wharves,
Midst arguments with boorish dwarves;
My neighbor’s tree needs forty whacks.

Fine coat of mail, thy filigree
Would sure enhance the likes of me.
So tightly woven, silver, pale
Protect unwanted barbs’ assail
When getting honey from my bees.

Thou mighty blade, enchanted runes
Do grace thy hilt but not those hewn.
Sure, separating sinew, bone,
Ne’er losing edge in dirt or stone,
When Saturday, the hedge I prune.

I think that we can both agree:
When I immerse in D&D,
I get so caught up in the game,
Imagination is to blame;
Sometimes I blur reality.

----------

RPG - role playing game - I used to play Dungeons and Dragons some 40 years ago when you used dice and mapped everything out on graph paper. I imagine things have changed a bit since then...
© Jeff Kyser  Create an image from this poem.

Devotion

I am lifeless,
 coldest of the coldest 
Sculptures of stone  .
An alter lies barren
With my name 
No hymns are sung 
No flowers adorn
my halls.
Where once you came 
And prayed
Asked me for joy 
Love,  victory .
Great conqueror 
Hero of war, you
Came with faith
Washed my feet 
Ever so gently 
And you prayed 
And I gave, wholeheartedly. 
Only here, with your head bowed low I have seen you weep. 
I blessed your battle axe 
I let your tears wash away the blood in your hands graciously. 
And ever so softly you said your prayers
 with my name .
I was the god of war
And you were the hero,
King, mighty warrior, 
But I was the only one 
Who saw you at your weakest. 
When you cried with your head at my feet I felt your pain. 
Truly devoted , you were of faith
But I was the devoted.
Only in your presence was my temple holy
Only in your prayers I learned what faith was. 
I wished I could melt,
Stoop down and pray,
 cry with you. 
Wished to hold you close to my heart of stone.
You went to war 
And in some foreign land you fell. 
I couldn't protect you there , you were too far away. 
And they came for me.
I was never so helpless and alone,
Never so broken .
They stripped me off the gold you had me wear,
Of all the beautiful decorations they stripped  me naked.
Left me alone, twisted and broken.
I your deity no longer devine, fell.
O king,
Now you are a flower in some strange land
I am dust,
Lifeless and Grey.
Say one of your prayers son. 
Pray to the winds
Perhaps she will take me along and Spread me over your body

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