The Arena, A Poem Options

[mALX]

*

The Arena Gladiator

The roar of the crowds kept me on my feet,
but I swayed and darkness hedged my vision.
Blood streamed in my eyes, I could not see.
One more wound, one more minute...I might be done,
when the match ends there can only be one.

The hilt of my sword was slippery and wet,
Sweat mixed with blood dripped on my hand.
My opponent should be just as injured, and yet
another blow on me he was able to land;
and without much trouble managed to stand.

Weakness overwhelming, sapping strength;
The blade in my hand too heavy to lift.
He had moved in close, barely an arm's length.
My parry was sloppy, I thrust and missed.
His slid through my belly with an icy hiss.

His eyes apologized as he twisted the blade,
I was too numb by then to feel the pain.
He thrust upwards, waiting for the sound to be made
that would tell him my lung was beginning to drain.
When he didn't hear it he thrust up again.

I heard it then, my lung tore with a "pop."
The blood coming out was bubbling with air.
Inside me I wanted to beg him to stop.
It was too late now, and I just didn't dare.
I felt my eyes freezing into a glassy stare.

My knees hit the ground first with a thud,
my bowels spilling out in a nasty pile.
Then my face plowed straight into the mud
I think I still breathed for a little while.
Then I heard the voice of Clavicus Vile

When I joined the Arena I always knew
that this day would eventually come.
When you enter those gates what they say is true,
Only one will go home when the day is done...
Today was the day that I wasn't the one.

*

This post has been edited by mALX: Jun 26 2011, 12:57 AM

[ureniashtram]

Hey, got room for one more? First things first, this . . . poem is actually a part of a story I'm writing. So you can consider it a teaser some sort. (laughs nervously) ugh.

The Mourning Stars

"Torn wings and broken faith,
the embodiment of rebellion.
Fallen sons of Paradise,
And the deceivers of millions.

We were goaded by the One,
to incite a War that could never be won.
Brothers fought brothers,
and we ultimately fell,
to a burning version of utopia
called Hell.

Pride we had, vanity in mind.
But regret came, and terror followed.
Now cast down to the Void for eternity,
Into the mouth of fire, our self-pity
And self-hatred we wallowed.

Can you wake us up,
From our mistake, this nightmare?
Nay, forever entangled are we,
Forever ensnared.

Outcasts from Heaven, and useless in Hell.
We forever seek our Creator for mercy,
But only silence replied us,
In our prison cell.

Our leader, the One who inspired us,
Became our greatest traitor.
He is to blame, but so are we.
For who believed His lie,
but my fellows and me?

Although we struggle with hope,
To free ourselves from this chains,
We realized that we were doomed,
our sins clings to us like a stain.

Are we to be shackled for eternity's end?
Can our Father ever forgive us for
Our transgressions and restore us back to Heaven?
Or in this burning wasteland must spend,
Endless days and endless nights,
Tormenting ourselves without end?

Torn wings and broken faith,
the embodiment of rebellion.
We are the fallen sons of Paradise,
Mourning for our coming eons."