Hardened leather scorched in the flames of Hell wraps around my breast.
A helm of bronze, crowned by the horns of a red-eyed bull shields my crest,
and a spear of blackened steel fills the calloused palm of my heavy hand.
The shores of Eire run red, clotted blood mingled with the brown of sand.
The frenzy of battle sweeps through my body in a rush of god-like rage.
I cannot tell friend from foe, enemy and ally both feel the bite of my blade.
A ragged breath fills my lungs, drawing strength from the infernal flames,
and the corded muscle of my arm bulges as I take the chariot's reigns.
A fierce whip goads the beasts into motion and carries a hero to war.
The violent blaze of my eyes climbs high, erupting in rage full sore.
Each tip of my hair is engulfed in flame, an inferno rains from above,
an intensity of passion seen only in battle, born to a reaver of blood.
My voice rises to the forgotten gods, screaming a warrior's prayer.
The sounds of warfare rend the sky and shatter the idyllic peace of Eire.
And when the mounds of the battle-slain pile up to the crimson sky,
I will sate my thirst for blood and lower my lips to drink them dry.
I am the Champion of Eire, a warrior by birth and son of mighty Lugh,
I sprang from the loins of an ancient, through countless battles I've stood.
As my soul departs my body, forever the guardian of my Emerald land,
I leave my memory upon this Isle, with the blood spilled by my hand.
Author notes
~Shamrock~
A description of Cúchulainn, littered with my own contrived touches and suited to fit my style.
A contest entry
- ~Celtic Knot~ by Sokarjo.
750 points, ended February 27, 2007, 6 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 8 of 8
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The hounds of Ulster yeah!
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so descriptive. I'm glad you share your talent with us.
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I love the running theme of an ancient medieval world in your poems, I quite enjoy the fantasy aspect of it. Your poems always take me away to another time, and I love reading them.
"I cannot tell friend from foe, enemy and ally both feel the bite of my blade." <-- what a great line, I love how the blade "bites."
"I will sate my thirst for blood and lower my lips to drink them dry." <--truly portrays how a man's mind warps when he is faced with life or death in battle
I also really love the last two lines of the poem, there is a sense of duty being served, that the man was a slave to his honour. Fantastic write!
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stunning
I liked the flow, good job -
Wow that was really cool, good job on this I enjoyed it.
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Excellent.
It's not often I find a poem with class like this on this site. I thoroughly enjoyed this write.
I've often wished to be able to write of battle but I find I do not have it in me. It's not personal enough I suppose...
If there was any doubting you'd get all three of my little clapping men, these lines made up my mind:
"And when the mounds of the battle-slain pile up to the crimson sky,
I will sate my thirst for blood and lower my lips to drink them dry."
Thanks for reminding me why I joined this site, and why I love Ireland all at once.
-Allura
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Fantastic! I love the tales of Cúchulainn... and I like your touch. Thanks for this great entry; good luck!
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Your style is one I truly admire and aspire to. You have a very real talent for transporting the reader to a different era to 'live' the experience. I'm right in the middle of it all when I read your work. Congratulations on having such a vivid imagination. Good luck in the contest
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