The screams started at nightfall
And continued through the night
Rising in pitch through the darkness
And began to die away towards dawn.
All was quiet then.
It was light when we went through the wall
And the madness began.
The women spitted on the sword.
The babies bashed against the wall.
The blood like a river washed away the dolls,
Forty thousand maybe more,
And we all got rich that day,
So rich we couldn’t carry anymore.
And sick,
So sick we couldn’t carry anymore.
As Geoffrey watched from the towers of the halls,
And the piles began to grow
Of bodies row on row.
We saints, our white tunics with cross stained red.
Our faces black from smoke.
Taking the cheap rings from cold blue fingers
Finally in the heat and stench,
Of Jerusalem weeping.
Oh, Holy Lord,
I cannot hold this sword any more.
Author notes
Written August 13th, 2003
In a list
A contest entry
- Ancient armies contest by Rikki tickki.
300 points, ended June 23, 2006, 6 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
1 - 16 of 16
-
x
-
very very moving piece of poetry! I'm not sure, but isn't this about the crusades? Even if it's not very good imagry on the horrors of war, and really, sometimes ya gotta think, is this what God wanted to happen, or was it just about the greed of men? right? anyway thanks for entering, God bless!
-
oh. more everywhen.
-
I'm at a loss for words. The mental images are so vivid, almost as if I were there watching this, and all I can do is just sit back and gasp for air in astonishment. Excellent job on this one.
becca
-
It was light when we went through the wall
And the madness began.
The women spitted on the sword.
The babies bashed against the wall.
The blood like a river washed away the dolls,
Forty thousand maybe more,
And we all got rich that day,
So rich we couldn’t carry anymore.
And sick,
So sick we couldn’t carry anymore.
As Geoffrey watched from the towers of the halls,
And the piles began to grow
Of bodies row on row.
Wow, kind of nasty, but I've heard of the tides of war ending like this... But like... If your a saint why are you fighting??? Aren't ya 'sposed to be holy or something- but be bumpin' the kings wives behind his back?
Yes good write though, so here's 7 points, and my favorite stanzas 
.
-
Such tragic cirumstances expressed through these words - vivid images created by your choice of words - well written.
-
Oh, how deep and Biblical. I like! Well, literally, I don't suppose it's Biblical if it occured in 1099 (was that AD or BC?) I'm also reminded a bit of the Bob Dylan song immortalized by the late Jimi Hendrix - All Along The Watch Tower.
Madness and Death, they go hand in hand...and often in the name of religion. A pity, really...
-
A very unusual poem, with some very excellent and powerful lines, but the flow and rhythm is a little disjointed here and there. Overall, however, a very intriguing piece.
LLLSHJ,
Y. -
excellent
This is absolutely amazing...
Edited on Dec 15, 1:56 p.m. because 'word not spelled correctly'. -
Showed up it did. On the main Feature Box. Just now. As I logged on.
I watched a show on the Templar's the other night on the History Channel. Well it wasn't just on the Templar's it was on DaVinci actually I think - or maybe not and the shows just ran together.
Boy, I miss you. Never lay down the sword of Poetry. I wonder what Ody was talking about the essence of something real. Perhaps she had a poem that day too.
Sigh. -
Awesome poem, Sir Lute...
The Flow Soothingly brought me to this Holy
City you speak of... And the words Painted
a Perfect Picture of a Saddened Soldier
Laying down His Bloody Sword... Sadly...
The Reference to the Templar "Red Cross
Habit" Was Recognized, And Well Placed...
Great Poem, Thanks For Posting It...
May God Be With you...
Cheers,
St. Michael
-
There has always been, for me, an embarassment factor or maybe just a real inability for my brain (and heart) to understand the Crusades. Similar to the feeling I get when reading about the plight of the American Indians at the hands of the White Man. And history repeats itself doesn't it.
Such such such ... what ego? lust for power? argh.
Solemn for my first read but yes heart piercing.
-
Oh! stunning. almost literally - literally stunning. The images, the history, the saints and the crusading love of christ and the appalling brutality of any war but the bitter irony of holy war, and the blood, the blood, and the broken soul, unable to hold his sword, his warring crucifix. Oh Lute, you strike at the head with this, and peirce the heart with the same pen stroke.
-
so sad.....
I'm speechless.... (hate that) -
I normally don't like this sort of thing...But it is true...You have a way of wording it...Awesome job! Keep it up!
!~YS4e ~!
Scarlett -
ahhhhh...looks as though we both were spurred by the essence of something real, something whole, something history, there is beauty in this pain you portray Lute, not in the pain, but rather how you word it.
This piece I love...
Wonderful work once again.
Adding your comment:
1 - 16 of 16
7 old applause
