Belariath

This week's topic is 'My One Wish' this can be out of TlI subject to post Art, Poetry, Stories, and Photography!

Please enter your original work and stop back to comment on your friends entries.

Have fun!

--- I apologies for the rust if it shows, I'm well aware I'm no genius in lyric or prose. But with practice makes perfect. --
-Edit: Apparently the first time I posted it, only half showed up.-



One hundred came, one hundred fall
Hundreds to come, and then hundreds more
They came in pairs, they came in odds,
Preaching to choirs, beseeching gods.
For their law, they decided our fate,
Not knowing that it was already too late.

Hate of steel, leads to slinging lead,
Rabble came, a god now dead,
A sling of a stone,
One eyed god falling from his throne.
They seek his corpse, and those within.
Unaware of those, that heard this battle’s din.

Alone and weary, stands he among stricken friends
Carried from the heavens, slung down by earthen Fiends
In smoke and ash, doth he choose to hide,
Biding time, a weapon found sublime.
Clatter of thunder, boom of fate,
Alone is He, decider of a friend’s fate.


Side by side, they stand tall,
News of this battle, doth appal,
Hasten now, to their own gods,
Seek out they, to even the odds.
Never to break, couldn’t bend,
Ten they were, friends to depend.


Upon the Earth, that begins to shatter and crack,
Religious howls, and firing mechanisms clack.
The Rabble advances!
The one alone rises, answers.
Come they in numbers, clothed in their god’s will.
Answers this mob, the survivor, with martial skill.

They come, they fall.
Others flee, more they call.
Steadily he alone, stands surrounded,
But does he, smartly, keeps his enemy confounded.
Every step they take,
is answered for his friends’ sake.

The heavens sing, the beast floats aloft.
Staring down, on this war’s cost.
It’s brother stricken, this beast does call.
From the heavens, the ten do fall.
Feet on the ground, hearts a pound,
They seek to teach the enemy, a new sound.

The preach of righteous hate,
Cut, silenced, by the ring of fate.
The die is cast, and the scythe does swing,
Come the ten, the reaper they bring.
The rabble then, cut in half,
The land, in blood, does it bath.

He who once stood alone,
Fate has chosen, mercy shown.
Five men enter, the great beast dead.
Five stand, guarding, in their stead.
The battle not yet done,
The men of gods, they do come!

Upon the five, the city does fall.
Righteous hate, the gods they call.
Stricken blind, and stricken deaf,
A god is proven, nothing to bless.
So comes the rabble, thick as flies.
Each man enters, each man, dies.

Five to three, from the beast emerge.
Retreating before the enemies surge.
Stands behind them the shield of five.
Heavens cry, and an angel dives.
From hell, it gathers souls so stricken,
Five leaving, on a beast quicken.

Stand thee upon the field,
Alone the last five, do not yield.
They cannot bend, they cannot break.
They stand together, for each other’s sake.
On each men, four burdens fall,
None of them, heed fatigue’s great call.

They do not bend, not do they break,
But for each other’s sake…
Do they begin to step from the field,
But the great god’s corpse, they do not yield.
Thunder rolls, and the earth does shake,
A god’s grave, leaves a crater in it’s wake.

From building to building, does our brave five move,
The rabble’s fury, it doth prove.
Cries of faith, and cries of hate,
Their bloodthirst, they will slate.
They come in droves,
They fill the rows…

No place left to stand,
A desperate choice left to a single man,
He does call but a man,
Requesting his outstretched hand.
A god will come.
This battle, will be won.

Stands this man, discarding friendship.
Ordering aside, his four kinsmen.
Stands he on the brink of hell,
In this land, he chooses to dwell.
He goes alone, to hold the pass.
No more, of man, or god, does he ask.

Blood is spilt, and blood is shed,
Counted, Not drops, unsafe brothers, instead.
Four reasons to stand, four reasons to live,
One final gift, these Gods’ Men, he give.
He holds his ground, he holds his place.
Unspeakable odds, does he face.

The ground does shake, the walls do split.
From these walls, shrapnel spits.
The quake of one, leaves his side, undone.
The shake of another, sends his world unspun.
With every spin, the ground does shake,
Making it hard to focus, he does for brother’s sake.

One hundred come, and few do fall.
Counted not bodies, but the time of stall.
Sent my man, the god has come.
The fall do beckon, for their lost son.
He steps, weary and beat.
Unwilling to leave, but conceding… He faces defeat.

A single ring, a trio of notes,
Takes the life, the one devotes.
Into the god, does he fall…
His penance paid, for standing so tall.
But the gods stay silent, men alter their fate.
The beast does hurry, for his sake.

In company, does the one wake,
Cursing him, for sins made for their sake.
For stands not one, when cannot stand all.
Nine and One, stands not so tall.
One and nine, soon become ten,
But this union is brought to an end.

The One now stands alone,
This fate he does not bemoan,
But always there is that wish.
Heaven to chase, and Hell to kiss,
But truthly just to stand again,
Brother to brother, in the ten.

Very nice!

Good poem Raven!

Great picture SB quite a lot to wish for

Reading back I feel as if I repeated myself too often, rhyming the same words time and again xD

But if I keep at these challenges maybe I'll shake the rust off in a couple weeks :3

Thank you for the praise, and I admire your work Stormbringer, that would probably be my third wish.

My one wish... I wish that damn spell had worked, I feel foolish standing like this

Nice picture and love the caption. Let's see more by you!

Raised, but not treated, by a Barbarian clan, this one wishes to have been; accepted, welcomed, honored, loved, but above all, to wear the crown of a Barbarian as those who sung tales around the campfires of their exploits and conquests in their many raiding adventures.