A Poem by Layla J Omorose



Now look upon this warrior…

This golden haired warrior

Whose power and beauty

Filled his belly with wine and his bed with women.

This man whose name was crafted into legend,

Long before the fall of The Empire.

His tale is spun from the silk strands of slave girls hair,

Read from the bottom of drunken barrels.

This champion of Capua

With swords in both hands held the crowd in awe.

The name they roared with bloodshed happiness


Gannicus…The God of the Arena.


He was their champion for years

Gave the legions of Rome the blood they asked for

The god of death

He showed his opponents no mercy

Cared nothing for their lives

In the arena where it was kill or be killed.

This was the people sport

And he was their ultimate weapon.


Many thought he was content

With his life controlled by the flavor of drink on his lips.

The feel of slave and noble Roman women c**t on his c**k.

Yet they knew nothing of the man

That lived in shadow of the legend.

His only solace from his troubles

A fellow warrior

Who was his brother above all others

And the one woman he couldn’t have

For she belonged to another

To have her would be to separate his heart from his chest.


In the arena they shared glory

In the Ludus they shared a soul

The three of them

Believed they were safe

Trusted their young, new masters

Thought they were protected from

The pit of vipers and devil that were known as

The leaders and masters of Rome


Gannicus…The God of the Arena

Could not be touched by the poisonous bars of his cage


Fate played a cruel trick on them

Especially on this skilled warrior

For he fell from grace

Kicked out of the heavens

His swords could not save him

He hit the ground

Was quickly reminded that he was a mortal

That he was not in control of his own fortune


He touched flesh that should not have been touched

Forced to indulge in the body of hidden temptation

Climaxed with awakened desire

That would sever the bond between brothers

For this love triangle was doomed from the start


Mortal man now tormented by feelings of betrayed love

It wasn’t his fault, for his masters were self indulgent pigs

Who slept in their own s**t and piss.

What was he to do when he had his raven haired love in his arms?

That final night

When their betrayal and passion burned hottest


The three sisters decided

He would not enjoy the breast of his brother’s love

They coursed the poison through her veins

In his cell, his bed

Trust, betrayal, love and hate died in his arms.


For he could no longer face his brother with a pure heart.

Not when ignorant eyes looked upon him with love and trust.

His troubles, handed to him by fate were not over yet.

The arena called his name

Called for their god to return

To give them bloodshed and sport.

For him he must answer

Come out of his mourning

Bring crimson rain with his duel swords

Show them…remind them of who is their king


Gannicus…the God of the Arena


Remind him he did

Showed them the wrath of their fallen god

Severed heads with his steel bladed weapons

Gifted the sands of the arena with guts and blood

He praised his heart in the sky with blood rain

Mourned her loss with a raging sword

Of the dozens in the arena that day

Of all the warriors


It was the God of the Arena who

Was left standing

His body bloodied

He roared his dominance of the arena to the heavens he fell from

He would not be defeated

Not by the Romans, not by his masters, not by himself, not by the arena,  not by Fate

He defied them all to claim his crown

His prize...Freedom

He could leave his torment behind the walls of his cage

Leave the brother he betrayed

Forget the dark love that had taken root in his heart.

He would walk through the gate of the Ludus

Into the heavens once again

No longer a servant

No one’s prize


For fate had deemed him the king

And his path was written before him in bloodshed

He would know freedom but not peace

For the God of the Arena’s power

Is needed in the rebellion to come.

In the journey that continues beyond the walls of the House of Batiatus

Past the land of Capua

Straight through the Roman republic

He would lend his strength to the might rebel leader.

He would fight for a cause bigger than his past.

He would show all of Rome

His fellow fighters

The heavens above whom he truly was







© 2012 Layla J Omorose

Author's Note

Layla J Omorose
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I found it arduous to finish. It's very long, verbose, and the motif revolves around something very shallow. I do not flatter. I did not like this. Sorry.

Posted 8 Years Ago

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A poetic picture of past legend artistically written for all to read :)

Posted 8 Years Ago

Gannicus: that lived in shadow of the legend derived from oral tradition, narrating the deeds and adventure of a hero marking his place in history,
from love to battle, this poem encapsulates the epic. The words flow
with a sense of stark realism that owns the point of it's intended artistic interpretation of a high renown or honor won by notable achievements.
Great work, I really enjoyed the scenery and motivation ^_^

Posted 8 Years Ago

Such a visually sharp blunt tragic story that slaps you awake and demand your attention.
I like it, I like it a lot. I only wish it was longer so I could have ridden Gannicus’ passionate wave of life longer.

Posted 8 Years Ago

1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

This has the depth, tragedy and beauty of a Shakespeare play!! Amazing writing!!

Posted 8 Years Ago

1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Wow! Such a powerful story.......fantastic!

Posted 8 Years Ago

1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

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6 Reviews
Added on June 2, 2012
Last Updated on June 2, 2012


Layla J Omorose
Layla J Omorose


Wow, it has been a long time since I last posted on Writer's Cafe. Since my last update a lot of things have happened in my life, some good, some bad and I have been working on getting myself back tog.. more..

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