PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The coldness of the night merged seamlessly

with the coldness of daybreak.

A weak sun did nothing to raise temperatures

or spirits.

The Legionnaires leather coats creaked and cracked

as morning dew met forest mist.

At the edge of the giant forest they all stood,

lined out and disciplined.

Waiting.



Far across barren scrubland

taunting voices shouted abuse and threats.

Hidden deep in their own forest fortress,

sporadic German tongues were cursing

Rome.



The battle was about to begin.



The shouts turned to chants,

the chants to howling.

Weapons clattered sheilds,

the waiting was over.



Fire was primed and archers drew,

calvary waited in the wings.

Three words echoed down

the infantry.

"Strength and honour."



The uncouth hoards burst forth,

all the tribes united

as one.

Screaming out for murder.



The Legion stood, waited, disciplined.

Brought them on,

waited,

formed.

Unleashed hell.



One half day later

Rome could cheer.

A nice piece

of involvement

was again won

for the Senate.



The tribes were undone.



For now.