Welcome Visitor: Login to the siteJoin the site


Poetry By: Lord Hoth

about awsome barbarians.

Submitted:Sep 4, 2007    Reads: 100    Comments: 3    Likes: 0   

Bronze sword Leather shield

The only weapons we have to wield

Babtism by fire is how we're raised

No battle will leave us dazed

We're war machines made of muscle and bone

Threwout our training ruthlessness is sown

We raid pillage and plunder

Anyone in our path will be knocked asunder

Our motives are survival and glory

Although more sofisticated men call us violent and gorey

They don't understand our culture nor we theirs

We have warlords and there heirs

They have Kings and Queens and laws

We have blood pacts and an axe to correct societal flaws

The sofisticated man lies and pays to cover his trails

Are motto is dead men tell no tails

They have soldiers and those who are not

Everyone of us is a soldier thats why so much havoc can be wrought

Like commandos we shock the enemy to provide an edge

But eventually outnumbered and surrounded droven into by a human wedge

We lose and our society is destroyed

And as shopkeeps and blacksmiths we are employed


| Email this story Email this Poetry | Add to reading list


About | News | Contact | Your Account | TheNextBigWriter | Self Publishing | Advertise

© 2013 TheNextBigWriter, LLC. All Rights Reserved. Terms under which this service is provided to you. Privacy Policy.