This poem is as yet untitled, but I dubbed it the Ballad of the Ass Kicker today. Perhaps The Embattled is better. I dunno; I'll keep working on it. Sometimes I come up with a winner. I'm the guy that can get you one or two, maybe three or as many as four words on a crossword puzzle.
Because I want a copy of it, and in case you didn't click the link above, here's the poem.
I am Romans, Vikings, Vandals
Mongolians on the plain
My march is long
My heart is strong
The tongue I speak is strange
I wear sandals, armor, helmet
Carry carbine, mace and shield
I’ve bayonet
Or Spectre’s threat
Upon the battlefield
I march for king and sovereign
For fiefdom and for pharaoh
Reap what’s sewn
I crack your bones
And feast upon your marrow
For age and age before me
And age after I’m gone
You’ll speak of me
My victory
And recount what I've done.
2 comments:
Nicely done, want more!
Bravo, this brilliant phrase is necessary just by the way
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