A free verse poem about what a routine day for a castle under seige might have been.
|Man the walls! Man the walls!|
The attack commences early today.
Arrows rain down as whistling death
to an unfortunate unshielded few
hurrying to their station on the walls.
Next come fireballs in a flaming arc,
exploding against walls in the town,
igniting scattered small fires.
The enemy has the range this day.
Toward mid-afternoon several
bloated, diseased bodies catapult
over the wall, dismembering upon
impact in the central courtyard –
an early attempt at biological warfare.
Huge stones sporadically smash against
the castle, leaving a crushed impression but
doing insignificant harm to its thick walls.
Soldiers rush the outside walls, placing tall
ladders against them, beginning their ascent.
A dousing with boiling oil and a downward
hail of arrows and hurled stones soon
discourages their attack for today.
With its deep wells and ample stores
of grain and livestock, the besieged town
seems rather safe and secure …
but wait! What looms on the horizon?
Assault towers! Towers tall enough,
once rolled against the castle walls,
to allow warriors to top the walls and
pour inside in a murderous rampage.
Damn! The day just turned ugly.
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