A sonnet to Mars and Ares


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Sing, my Muse, of Rage, of terrible War

That wrecks lives and nations with casual ease

Mars and Ares storming with deafening roar

To smite and clash, raping cities, to seize

Their hallowed walls and destroy their boldest men.

They die, with bright steel blows smashing armour

Falling in blood and tangled limbs. So when

Greek Illium allowed equine fervour

To bring low that mighty and proud place

The Gods wept tears of impending doom.

Nay! Fear not the once dark, terrible face

Of Rage and also of War whose cruel bloom

Does remind valiant heroes who murmur

Of  Wintry death, and newly soured Summer.

Kind Regards

travelswithadiplomat



Categories: Poetry

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