Blood,
horror.
We fought on…
Battling the foe,
consumed by fury,
we blunted our weapons
against the unending horde.
On they fought, hacking at our ranks,
the dead piled up before us; silent.
Their only plan: to overwhelm and kill.
Men:
but not.
Similar;
they bled like men,
but attacked like drones.
We slew the ones that came,
bathing in the blood of others.
Inevitably, they broke through,
swarming over our fallen comrades.
Retreat! We fought a desperate rearguard.
Fight!
Fight on!
No quarter,
asked or given.
They encircled us,
a tide around a rock.
We battled, ever fighting,
with tired arms and failing hope.
in an ever decreasing circle.
Then, abruptly, the battle was over.
Maybe…
The end?
My blunt sword
killing the last,
I could see no more.
Peace. We sat with the dead,
our bodies covered in gore.
We were alive. Victorious!
We sent prayers of thanks to the heav’ns,
but as skies went dark, other gods answered.
Night
brought terror.
The dead moved!
Bloody limbs stirred.
Silently rising,
they reanimated.
Moving like puppets, they came.
Staggering, crawling, but soundless.
Controlled by forces beyond our ken.
Inexorable, soulless, and undead.
Stunned,
frozen.
We rallied,
we few who lived.
Wide eyed, scared, trapped,
we lifted blunted swords;
doomed, but unwilling to quit.
In monochrome light we stood ready.
Betrayed by our gods: the forsaken.
Battle cry! And then the true horror began.
YOU ARE READING
Love's Bitter Flow
PoetryA collection of verse, including a poem which is also a Drabble (100 words) with Mythic Greek influence, and followed by humour, horror and fantasy in varying doses as my entry for the 2012 Atty Awards
