Best Warstorm Poems
Come storm the shores of Erangade
The castles great and grey,
Call to the princes that must bade
Their fleets are in the bay.
The rulers of the land will rise
Awake to cries of war,
The battlefield before their eyes
the piece will reign no more.
Come hear the words of death and hate
They call upon the street,
All in anticipation wait
To hear of whose to defeat.
The ground now trembles from each blow
Each strike is sword on sword,
And with each step more blood does flow
Like rain from heaven poured.
Come see the shore where wounded lay
The mortals of the earth,
There in the waters of the bay
A life has lost its worth.
The arrows fired from the walls
The archers felt no pain,
How many men among who falls
Would never rise again.
Come walk the footsteps in the mud
A soldier left behind,
His silver sword was dipped in blood
Of murders to remind.
The battle lightning crushing down
A storm upon the lands,
Each ruler fighting for the crown
To hold it in his hands.
Come see them standing, princes, lords
All robed in battles cloth,
They hold with pride their battle swords
Believing in their wrath.
Yet at the ending of the day
The battlefield lay spread,
From every mountain to the bay
A graveyard from the dead.
Which ever conquered, victory
Would hold with trembling hands,
The crown that bore eternity
The blood of all the lands.
There are many of these it seems,
Always changing over time,
As present passes into history.
But none of these bad dreams,
Can clearly be decoded.
In one context or the next.
So the umbrella of convention,
Always leaks a little,
And sometimes leaks a lot,
When the storm of death arrives,
On the field of battle.
Then the storm spills into Geneva,
As civilization fights a comeback round.
Why are we surprised and shocked,
At mortal inability to decipher,
A conventional killing in the future.
Maybe our eyes can't see far enough,
Either behind us or ahead,
And the distance of time clouds our view,
Of a future soldier in the field.
Who will once again see death,
All too close and clear