Wednesday, 23 November 2011

Three Word Wednesday, 23/11/11

Another Wednesday, another three words I liked, and so... a poem.

I have no idea why I was inspired to write this. I don't particularly enjoy reading or writing poetry, but this just formed on my fingertips after an hour or so. Any feedback would be great; please make of it what you will.


Astraea's End

At the edge of the Styx,
Where the dead pass by,
The impure girl lies on her knees,
Gazing up at the night sky.

Her innocence stolen,
The tainted maiden contemplates the river.
Apathy; she is just a hollow soul,
With only her life left to deliver.

Now past her misery,
The shamed girl enters the water,
Wading towards the deep,
To offer herself to the Gods for slaughter.

Resolute, she passes the shallow,
Loses her footing, and falls down,
Into the abyss, determined to sink.
With no resistance, she begins to drown.

Monday, 21 November 2011

"Fields" BFF 141 - Soldier Boy

Oh wow, I'm actually publishing something else. Here's a piece for Blogging For Fun 141, the theme obviously being "Soldier Boy." I heard that the BFF group is pretty cool, maybe I'll be allowed to join after this? :)

Enjoy reading!



As the sun finally began to set over the field, all I could think of was being anywhere but here.

I wanted to be back home in the peaceful greens of Yorkshire, frolicking with my love Eliza in a flowery field, just like any couple as young and innocent as us should have been doing in the middle of summer. Or to be in the garden which overlooked our field, with the same childhood friends who accompanied me here, drinking and eating and merrily joking well into the the late hours. I would even appease my father now; I would give anything to help him on our farm and engage in such mundane tasks such as ploughing the fields.

However, I hadn't listened to my father's orders, or even Eliza's desperate pleas for me to stay. I was determined to make my father and her proud; to set out and seek adventure. Just like all of my friends - who also childishly abandoned their loved ones in search of some kind of illusionary glory - I left home as a boy, and I wanted to return as a man.

We wanted to be heroes. Now, in hell's field, I was the only one left who could regret our mutual decision.

The first day of fighting has come to an end. Slowly and cautiously, I push my weary body up from the Somme's watery mud. On my feet for the first time in hours, and no longer aiming down the long sights of my rifle, I am able to briefly observe the desolation of no man's land in the fading twilight.

Friends and enemies lay amongst each other in the earth, in pools of blood; each other's blood. Hundreds, maybe thousands of stagnant corpses rot for as far as the eye can see, riddled with rifle bullets and machine gun rounds. British, French or German; death is all that awaits for anyone deployed to this theatre.

Under the cover of darkness, I regroup with allied survivors and retreat to my trench, without a yard gain nor lost. I walk back with the knowledge that I am no longer a boy, but not a man either. At the day's end, I realise what I have become – just another soldier on the battlefield.

Friday, 18 November 2011

Three Word Wednesday, 17/11/11

Here's a little piece I was encouraged to write and share by a very good friend of mine, based on this week's words over on Three Word Wednesday: Impetus; Solace, and Vindication.

Any feedback would be appreciated, though I do hope anyone who may read this will enjoy it. :)


The Berserker

His army has fallen around him. His kingdom is engulfed in flames behind him. Those who were dear to him have long since departed.

The loss of everything is all the impetus he needs. Revenge is in his heart.

Enraged and no longer dejected, the beaten fighter rises from the ruin around him. On his feet for one last time, he raises his mighty battle axe and begins his sprint forth. Towards his foes; towards his death.

His righteous anger is vindication for his lost grasp on his own sanity. He is a man possessed; to draw blood and dispense death are his only remaining desires. He charges ever closer to his victorious opponents; his berserker's spirit pushes his physical body beyond its natural limits.

His enemies are legion, but that doesn't matter to this overthrown warrior king. He has nothing left to lose, but he has glorious vengeance and salvation to gain.

For him, there would be solace in suicide.