Thread: Two Poems-- An Intimate Moment Upon the Hill, and The Warrior Victorious

An Intimate Moment Upon the Hill

Upon the hill we lay.
Gazing ‘pon the sun as it set,
Watching the latticework of colors,
As they shifted and darkened.
Till they turned to a deep void of black.

The Stars Hung on th’empyrean dome,
Ornaments of the sky.
The Moon was the crowning jewel,
Full and bright,
Its craters like the many facets of a diamond.

My focus strayed,
From the firmaments to her.
And when she realized,
Her concentration, too, refocused,
And our gazes locked.

I took a single finger,
Stroked back the hair from her temple,
Tucked it behind her ear.
A smile cracked on her face,
And one formed along mine.

She asked for my love,
And I gladly obliged,
Without vacillation.
I asked for her fidelity,
And, it, she affirmed.

She came to me closer,
And closed her eyes.
She brought her lips near,
And I felt them touch my own,
A soft and delicate touch.

We held one another tenderly,
As drowsniness took over,
And as she was asleep,
Her face glowing as a light.
I gave her a last kiss for the night .




The warrior victorious

The field was painted a deep crimson.
Its artist was war,
It’s palette—the blood of men.
The blood seeped into the barren ground,
It fell into the cracks,
Quenching the earth of its thirst.

These fighters lay, dead and cold,
Their faces concealed,
By the beavers of their helms.
Their horses had run,
Fled the corpses of their masters,
Or they lay in death with them.

Then from the butchery of men,
One arose,
Supported by his blood-stained blade.
He was wounded,
With lacerations writ over his body,
His indelible testimonies of war.

With sword-cane in hand,
He limped forward,
Step by step he trudged farther.
He held his blade above his head,
In defiance of death,
Today, Vict’ry was his.

no comments on this one or anything?