A tribute to Martin the Warrior, a hero that continued to give and protect, even after he departed to the next great adventure.
A warrior, lone and desolate
Traveling through the icy snow,
Escaping from his memories,
Simply away is where he'll go.
Leaving home and friends behind,
Hoping to burden them no more,
He leaves them in his heart enshrined,
And walks on with no knowledge of what's in store.
Now thrust upon the cold stone floor
Of vicious wildcat's domain,
The warrior bends to their will not,
His eyes burning with rebellious flame.
And even in dungeons wet and barren,
With broken blade upon his neck,
The warrior holds his head up high,
Responding not to any threat.
Escaping and running, plotting and fighting,
Our warrior never abandons hope.
He feels the weight of his father's blade
And with whatever problem he can cope.
Finding friends and home and hope,
Having something worth fighting for,
The warrior gives no thought of himself,
'till his comrades fear he is no more.
Now in a misty wooded land,
With both loving and dangerous beings within,
A red-stone abbey there does stand,
Courage and love never wearing thin.
And upon its wall, hung with pride,
The sword of this long-gone warrior lays.
Manifestation of love and glory,
Sworn to protect through all its days.
…I bet it sucked, didn't it? Feel free to tell me exactly what you think. I'd like to get better at poetry (I mean, seriously – I SUCK), so constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. But please, no flames. I want to feel helped, not hurt.