Age of Empires

[Poeta Demonio]

The Age of Empires;
came, saw, conquered and perished. Maybe the Gods will just retire…



Across the sea’s, on white horse tides,
they seized their lands and raped their wives.

Sailed too close to cinder suns;
moored on a horizon long scorched by Huns.

Captured laughter from a baby’s throat.
Bottle fed it, until it choked.

Their first born slaughtered, slung loose at their feet…
surrender your lands, or bare a plague on your streets.

Blood splattered banners; they fluttered for victory…
flickering though time, diluting frail-pages of history.

Sunk teeth-too-deep, infecting open wounds of our patient nation,
whilst monsters of creation, evolved out of brutal exploitation.

Across the sea’s, this time we’ll fly,
in preservation of our culture, we’ll gladly die.

Even though it’s thousands of miles away,
we must keep Muhammed’s children at bay.

If they should live, yes, even one…
Yeshua will become Gods forgotten son.

I know you’re an atheist, but my child do your part…
Because, tradition must find homage in a patriots heart.







*This is a piece for a module at uni that I'm taking, whereby we have to write 3 poems; one in quatrains, one in tercets, and one in couplets for an assignment. This is the couplets poem!

[Emily]

Nice work here.
Ill be back to feed this.
Just wanted to let you know ive not forgotten it.

[Sammy]

dude, this is simply beautiful. I'm also partial because it has my crew's name in he title lol, jk.

Across the sea’s, on white horse tides,
they seized their lands and raped their wives.

the imagery of a tide in the form of horses was effectively presented. great little homophone trick also.

Sailed too close to cinder suns;
moored on a horizon long scorched by Huns.

the heat/burn theme was great here. again, imagery was impeccable.

Captured laughter from a baby’s throat.
Bottle fed it, until it choked.

not too much a fan of the "baby's throat" bit because it broke tone. it stuck out like a soaring eagle.

Their first born slaughtered, slung loose at their feet…
surrender your lands, or bare a plague on your streets.

the persisting rhythm had a very hypnotic effect at this point. very lulling. juxtapose with the visceral imagery and you have a very strange clash of effects. it worked. it worked well.

Blood splattered banners; they fluttered for victory…
flickering though time, diluting frail-pages of history.

intensity's increasing. great pacing.

Sunk teeth-too-deep, infecting open wounds of our patient nation,
whilst monsters of creation, evolved out of brutal exploitation.

may just be the topical side of me speaking but the word exploitation really killed the melodic flow. the long "Oy" sound disrupted the "Ay's". The predatory theme was fascinating tho.

Across the sea’s, this time we’ll fly,
in preservation of our culture, we’ll gladly die.

"time we'll fly" i like the little twist on the aphorism. I was gonna call u out on cliche but i see wha tu did. the 2nd line of the couplet was grounded. Almost too conspicuously so.

Even though it’s thousands of miles away,
we must keep Muhammed’s children at bay.

If they should live, yes, even one…
Yeshua will become Gods forgotten son.

I know you’re an atheist, but my child do your part…
Because, tradition must find homage in a patriots heart.

the bold part was a little to ambiguous for me. I'm not too verse in religion so i was def lost there. "my child do your part.." was distracting. I did not read as organic as the rest of the piece. The voice shifted abruptly with that phrase.

overall, this was a very dope piece. Nom'd.