Rimes of frost in the stillborn air
Mingle with bodies all around;
Quiet tears for silent stares
Of the fallen upon these sacred grounds.
Cry alone for those now gone,
Walk the shores of eternal Lethe,
But sing requiem for those at peace.
The battle, hard and long
Always fought, and never won;
Bathed by blood, built of stone
Far from love, far from home.
Stand beside the granite slate
With flowers draped upon the silent graves
For those that sleep, lie in wait
Amidst their kin, until the end of days.
Author notes
Lethe is a river in Greek mythology from which the dead must drink; by doing so, they forget all that they had suffered in life.
A contest entry
- Going for the Gold (PWs ONLY) by Intricate Wordsmith.
600 points, ended November 19, 93 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Bathed by blood, built of stone
Far from love, far from home.
Makes me remember a terrible, wonderful day a long time ago!
I so admire your mastery of rhyme.
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Wow that's a really good write. I like it. ^_^
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