He drags his sword
behind him
The blade cutting
through the dirt
Exhausted he is
through battle
His muscles and
wound does hurt
Caked in mud and
sweat
Blood pouring from
a deep cut
Crows and ravens
fly overhead
He closes his
eyes shut
But images are
there before him
Showing all that
was done
In the name of
freedom
Under a blood
red sun
Finally he
collapses
on the field
of battle
Just wanting
to sleep
But his mind
does rattle
What was
the point
Of all this
death?
Just for a
little land
Or power
some have said?
Pointless all
of it is
Far too many
dead
Some won’t see
husbands or kin
Or sleep in
their own beds
Whose blood
is on his sword
He wonders as
he looks at it
Who did he
kill?
Are the crows
tearing him to bits?
Finally he walks
away
Strength returning
to him now
No wars for
others will he fight
Only his family
will he himself allow
Published by
Darren Greenidge
I'm a thinker, listener, a "question's pretty much everything" type of person. A seeker of knowledge, always restless, yet seeks the calm in life.
I love writing in all forms and am in the process of completing a number of ongoing projects. I love the craft of writing and the possibilities it holds. A magic carpet through the mind. I love pretty much all creative arts, music, film and theatre the leading ones.
Born in Hertfordshire in England, my family Irish, Welsh and English, I currently reside in Edinburgh, in Scotland. I'm drawn to coastal and mountain regions where I like to go to think and draw inspiration from. Ireland is a place that's dear to me, and I try to get back to see family and friends as much as possible.
My interests are wide and broad, too many to mention here, but history, archaeology, criminology, music and film are just some of those things I love.
I hope you enjoy my ramblings on here as that's what they are really. I'll let my fingers do the ''talking...''
View all posts by Darren Greenidge
Caliburnus Rises 