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~ Poetry by me ~
Wings blacken the blood-red sky,
Diving downwards on the fields
Which, now silent, yield no sigh
Between the broken spears and shields.
Soundless as the dusk they settle
On the fallen battle-trees,
Fading sun glints off dim metal,
Feathers flurry in the breeze.
Like black snow they cover corpses,
Living cairn none else will build;
Only once a cawing chorus,
Then the feeding beaks are still.
They leave at last when sky turns livid,
One swift rushing, then they´re gone;
Last host to pay this field a visit
And the only that had won.
Text 2005 Michaela
Music, performance, voice, soundfile 2005 Sergio Fernández Ribnikov
License: This poem may be freely distributed, provided it remains
unchanged, including the copyright notice and this License:
This work by
(www.odins-gift.com) is licensed
Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivatives License.
"Battle-tree" is a kenning (metaphor) for warrior.
Image licensed, copyright:
Zhuravlov / 123rf.com