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___________________________________________Amidst the silence and the dust of aftermath,Where thousands strong once stood and laughedInto the face of death, and forged their pathBeneath the thunder's rolling crash,Naught remains anymore, no, naught but blood and ash.None knew, nor know what it would take to win the dayWoe, for the Legion has passed through this way.Platoons in solid ranks egress from barren plain,On high begins a solemn rainAnother land now fallen into pain,By tax of war, willpower drainedThe armies' march goes on to lands alive again;In dreary quiet town, a new herald proclaims-Woe, for the Legion shall pass through this way.What is mercy? The Legion knows nothing of thisTo them the conquest brings all bliss.Though now they realize something is amissTheir normal easy slaughter heldWhere a wavering, valiant, barely-risen line does stayWoe, for the Legion forges on this way. With shield and halberd raised against the argent skyRemainders stand against the tidesOf shattered rust and metal, blood and strife And fear, the fear through blackest night.Where once a humble village made its claim to life,The last three hold before the ever-growing fray-Woe, for the Legion won't relent this day.And blades awhirl under the silver thunderheadsTrio of heroes, all but deadStand back to back to back, hold off the dreadOf armies fighting as unfed;Spray of blood upon the wind, the dust beneath stained red.The three call now call upon their might and sayNo, for the Legion will not win this day.Though from a dark descent this scourge must draw its soulsNo doubt, for nothing else could holdIn hearts, such moral shadow sevenfold.But this, their match, at last, perhaps-This, the three, with brilliant auras to beholdSlash left, swing right, like arcs of light with echoed bladesRise, for the Legion may yet fall today.The smoke arisen off the newly fallen foeA shattered cloud from ash and boneSettles down to the empty field of stone.And from the silenced plain no life yet showsEverything within is held in death's blank white glow.Until the three arise, to outlast it all:Stand; for the Legion's met its final fall.And as triumphant saviors leave their joyous brandWith bright flags planted on the land,Though certain that by their own heavy handsThe Legion was reduced to sand-A new Legion slowly born from this simple bandOnce best of men, their virtue now they cannot proveRun: for the Next Legion is on the move. ___________________________________________Added two more stanzas- three and eight.

Edited by Chro

save not only their lives


d665fa5c17bc200a946e0a69eaf11f929dc080cb


but their spirits

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Now that was a truly beautiful piece, Chro. I'm not familiar with much of your work, and by that I mean absolutely none, but reading this inspired me to want to learn more about what other gems of yours might be hiding in the Library. My initial interest stemmed from the fact that in 2007, I wrote an epic whose antagonists were a group of individuals that referred to themselves as the Dark Legion. The way your own Legion is portrayed in this poem, however, is something that your medium of choice allowed to convey in a fascinating technique. The Legion is not given detail in itself, but through the use of descriptive details and sensory details as well, I had a real, solid sense of what this faction represented.The Dark Legion seems akin to a metaphor perhaps, for death or warfare, indiscriminately demolishing what it comes in contact with and leaving misery and darkness in its wake. The specific words used to describe what they are capable of reminded me of the James Blunt song No Bravery, capturing this destroyed beauty aspect of what had once been a wonderful realm. The second half of the poem faltered a little bit for me. I enjoyed the rise of the heroes to quell the Legion's destructive antics, though the tone changed dramatically much too quickly and it was only in the second half that a few of the rhymes felt a tad forced. I didn't anticipate the conclusion of this poem would rely on the cliché of good triumphing over evil, at least not in such an immediate response sort of way. Maybe that wasn't your intent, but that's what the delivery gave me.I want to emphasize again how much I liked this poem though, because it really was an outstanding piece. While not necessarily tied to the Bionicle world, the imagery suggested a battle between Toa at their myriad adversaries, able to conquer the odds and the darkness and eventually reign triumphant. The earlier parts of this poem left me wanting a more bleak, depressing conclusion, as the note you ended on should've been all too obvious. I'm not the best authority to dissect poetry for what's really going on between the verses and stanzas and everything, but the story you told definitely held my attention, and I think that if your transitions between moods is a more gradual shift in the future, your work will improve too. Nicely done, Chro.-Ced

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Now that was a truly beautiful piece, Chro. I'm not familiar with much of your work, and by that I mean absolutely none, but reading this inspired me to want to learn more about what other gems of yours might be hiding in the Library.
None, actually. This and Snowfall are my only two published stories anywhere on the web. I do write a bit much more than I post, so we'll have to see about that. :lol:
My initial interest stemmed from the fact that in 2007, I wrote an epic whose antagonists were a group of individuals that referred to themselves as the Dark Legion. The way your own Legion is portrayed in this poem, however, is something that your medium of choice allowed to convey in a fascinating technique. The Legion is not given detail in itself, but through the use of descriptive details and sensory details as well, I had a real, solid sense of what this faction represented.
Why thank you. While writing I had this mental image of a sort of shapeless, faceless force of unrelenting destruction; thus I didn't describe it like I normally would, but more... indirectly, I suppose.
The Dark Legion seems akin to a metaphor perhaps, for death or warfare, indiscriminately demolishing what it comes in contact with and leaving misery and darkness in its wake. The specific words used to describe what they are capable of reminded me of the James Blunt song No Bravery, capturing this destroyed beauty aspect of what had once been a wonderful realm.
Thank you. As I said above, the Legion was a formless evil, so I suppose it sort of was more of a symbol.
The second half of the poem faltered a little bit for me. I enjoyed the rise of the heroes to quell the Legion's destructive antics, though the tone changed dramatically much too quickly and it was only in the second half that a few of the rhymes felt a tad forced.
The rhymes seemed forced because they were, yes. Perhaps I'll edit that a bit...
I didn't anticipate the conclusion of this poem would rely on the cliché of good triumphing over evil, at least not in such an immediate response sort of way. Maybe that wasn't your intent, but that's what the delivery gave me.
Yes, I suppose so. I wanted to make this a bit longer but I also just wanted to get it over and done with; rushing writing clearly gets me nowhere, haha.
The earlier parts of this poem left me wanting a more bleak, depressing conclusion, as the note you ended on should've been all too obvious. I'm not the best authority to dissect poetry for what's really going on between the verses and stanzas and everything, but the story you told definitely held my attention, and I think that if your transitions between moods is a more gradual shift in the future, your work will improve too. Nicely done, Chro.-Ced
I was considering an ending in which one of two things happened- the Legion returns and continues the march, or the "heroes" become corrupt conquerors themselves. I may have to go back and revise to add that in, eh? ;)Well, glad you found it interesting. I may expand it a bit, actually, so thanks for the suggestions regarding that. :)
I want to emphasize again how much I liked this poem though, because it really was an outstanding piece. While not necessarily tied to the Bionicle world, the imagery suggested a battle between Toa at their myriad adversaries, able to conquer the odds and the darkness and eventually reign triumphant.
Oh shoot, you just reminded me that this was actually supposed to go in COT, as it isn't Bionicle-related at all. Darn. Can I get this moved, please? :lol: Edited by Chro

save not only their lives


d665fa5c17bc200a946e0a69eaf11f929dc080cb


but their spirits

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Nuile reporting with an unrequested review courtesy of the SSCC. Now there's no getting away from us. :evilgrin:

 

Before I say anything else I am going to admit that I am quite ignorant of the mechanics of poetry. My ken, at best, is basic. You have to rhyme: I get that. Then I read free verse and I'm just confused. But I poetry or prose, we use the same words. I am a writer with an aesthetic eye and a taste for words: I understand their tones and their flow and their beauty, and that is what I see here.I respect people who can arrange words into lines that rhyme. But poetry is more than that. It's the people who can go beyond that and write poetry whom I admire. And this, sir, this is poetry.One of poetry's best qualities is its ability to paint vivid pictures without laying any tangible detail. In prose you describe: in poetry you feel. You feel the Legion and their power and the dread they inspire. You feel the strength and ferocity of the battle. You feel the confidence of the Legion and the bravery of the three noble fighters as they fight against their insuperable foes, including the worst of all, Fear himself.There's color and action and a philosophical note of the pitch that rings long after the poem is over. Temptation is born of lust which comes of greed, a form of selfishness, the root of all evil; the lust for power is a strong one, and corruption--a great evil indeed--is seldom far behind. But that is but one interpretation. Worse comes the thought that, perhaps, there was no corruption and no hearts were changed; but evil is in the eye of the beholder. For no matter what we do and no matter who we serve, we will always, in the eyes of some, be evil. It is impossible to please everyone. It is a heavy thought: Goodness is not a measure of how much good we do, but how little evil . . .You may or may not know this, but I am a fan of your work. This may be only the second story I have read, but once again I have enjoyed it very much.

What is mercy? The Legion knows nothing of thisTo them the conquest brings all bliss.Though now they realize something is amiss

This sounds like something I would write, which is a greater insult than you might think . . . I did not feel that it flowed as much as elsewhere, but it was indeed the only place the flow was disrupted; a lone rock jutting into an otherwise smooth river.

In hearts, such moral shadow sevenfold.

It flowed, but it felt a little awkward in that it did not seem to make much sense. It seemed more like a rhmying placeholder than a part of the sentence.I adore stories that incite deep thoughts, and this was one in spades. Poems often are, but not necessarily, and not nearly as often in the past hundred years. Very nicely done; and no surprise. Now go write something more!

 

Sincerely, Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith :smilemirunu:

Edited by Nuile: The Wiseguy

When I know I can't live without a pen and paper, when I know writing is as necessary to me as breathing . . .



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I know I am ready to start my voyage.



A Musing Author . . . Want to read my books?

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