Ten riders [Poem]

[Ramscha]

10 Riders

Ten riders rode across the field,
black cloaks on shoulders and reins in hand.
Through darkness, the gods invisible shield,
Silence as their only comrade.

Through a dark forest, deep they went in,
full lewering horrors no human eye have seen.
One dark shadow.
One cry, one loud cracking spine,
leaving there only nine.

Nine riders rode across the field,
Black cloaks on shoulders and blood on hands,
Through darkness, the gods impenetrable shield,
regret their only comrade.

Through a crowded city, poor the folk,
daggers from dark cutting the ninth throat through,
Spilling blood.
They were fleeing, blowing stroke for stroke.
Knowing neither what it was nor who.

Eight riders rode across the field,
black cloaks on shoulders and shiver in hand.
Through darkness, the gods invincible shield,
fear as their only comrade.

Passing kloofes, seeing no end,
step by step passing wall and stone.
An ambush!
An arrow taking what´s not its own,
Seven bleeding fighters went.

Seven riders rode across the field,
red cloaks on shoulders and wounds on hand.
Through darkness, the gods invincible shield,
Weakness as their only comrade.

Taking a rest in a village,
tired from the night.
No one is watching
all seems right.
When one blinking was seen,
From one who has knowledge
About a terrible plot.
The house was stormed,
the people cried,
screams were formed,
seven blades were freed.
After blood and gore,
They were leaving, but only four.

Four riders rode across the field,
red cloaks on shoulders and steel in hand.
Through darkness, the gods incredible shield,
Grim as their only comrade.

Ten brothers were leaving, four brothers arrive,
Six mothers were crying, only four brothers alive.
Sadness settled.
The years went on
But something was wrong.

The fourth brother in tears and grief,
He take his steel with fearless hand.
He cut though, muscle, bones and band,
One last tear shed in relieve

Three brothers walk across the field,
black cloaks on shoulders and wood in hand.
Through darkness, the gods troubling shield,
A carcass their only comrade.

High rose the flames from wood and cinder,
A fate we all will share.
One followed the brother, with the lasting flames,
To stop we didn´t dare.
So two brothers went to ash, leaving us and rising winter.

Two riders rode across the field,
black cloaks on shoulders and steel in hand.
Through morning, the gods mocking shield,
The final clash as last present.

One fell of his horse without a scream,
The blade deep in his chest.
One more burned with the last light beam,
This was his request.

One rider rode across the plane,
The other nine were free.
From their journey he was the one remain,
Only one, and this was me!



Well, one of my first poems in english. I made this once for I special reason but I can´t recall what it was, maybe that is the purpose of this thing, making me forget what it was for but anyway, enjoy reading!

Ramscha

[Clockwork Ghost]

Very nice - like it a lot [thumbup] [thumbup] [thumbup]

[Ramscha]

Thank you, I appreciate your compliment [blush]