My blaster plays a melody,

Complementing the harmony,

Harmony, that brings the rain,

Harmony that brings the pain.


Battle burns with a blazing fire,

Contrasting my brother’s attire,

Shifting on the protective shield,

Modulating in the battlefield.


The quartet is playing a song,

To those that did too many wrong,

To those with a wrong claim,

We bring the rain.


Marching, song in our throat,

Remembering those that fought,

Apocalypse is creeping near,

My brothers – have no fear.


Memories forgotten, utterly lost,

I don’t ask for what is the cost,

The cost of the lives given in vain,

We avenge, we bring the rain.


Irdanians Dronstad

Seriously now. This is my second poem. I am not that good at putting verses together and making a wonderful picture like the rest of you do, so this is a little homage to you poets.

And here is where you can find me. Facebook & Twitter social links where you can’t find poems, but maybe a meme or two.

Stories under the Like button.


22 thoughts on “Apocalypse

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