The eve of battle

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A poem set upon the eve of battle

Submitted: June 25, 2008

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Submitted: June 25, 2008

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Here we wait

Scathed and forsaken, knealing in the softly mud.

We make no sound, but our anxiety flows like the blood from our wounds.

We grip our hatred, our fear, as we do our tools of war.

We are the wind before the storm,

The fade before the crescendo.

The silent song of war,

Forever sounds upon this ground,

This ground of Blood and dust and mud .

And then the rain begins,

A sign? An omen?

And with every solumn beat of our condemmed hearts,

Sounds the silent song.

We are the eve of battle

Here we wait.


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