roryg

Standing still upon the rock

lone warrior with eyes of hawk

All fear him and run in shock

for he hath killed a million flock

His bloody sword oh does it drip?

His heart a beat oh does it skip?

His hands hold tight oh do they grip?

As blood runs down his reddish lip

And in his right hand holds his sword

and in his left another sword

with 2 fell swings he kills the hoard

His enemies praise him as lord

Oh many men hath he done killed

their hearts he eats, he likes them grilled

oceans and oceans of blood he's spilled

None can doubt he doth be skilled 

but on this day shall be his last

for those who choose to live by sword

shall be forced to die by sword 

his time does end, it was a blast

but oh he died a warriors death

and on his grave was baby's breath

and no enemy was ever left

for he died just like Macbeth

Reviews

[KAin]

I like this! It skipped between serious and playful language quite nicely.
The tone of it seems to do that too, or am I mistaken?
Either way, I enjoyed this poem, nice work!

[Deidara]

Ah, thanks. This was a poem I made for someone on request.

[Roryg]

Yes yes yes