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. Please check out my ten books: http://www.amazon.com/Jr.-Harry-E.-Gilleland/e/B004SVLY02/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0 |