Poetry

Horde

A dragon prow
pierces the shroud
of mist to
imprint itself
upon history’s
virgin pages

With bludgeoning fists

With axe and roar

The body of the leviathan
is the Viking horde

The grapes of their
wrath are forged of gold
reaped through blood
with the edge of a sword
they send the faithful
to be with their lord

Without regard for
the Christian’s hell
their victory comes
if in death
they die well
and the skalds
gather their children
their glory to tell

Categories: Poetry

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