Warrior Brave

I am Fighter, a Warrior Brave

From the plains to the hills- the many I save

My sword is drawn, my armor latched

No battle out numbered, no battle outmatched

My helment shines with the fire of the sun

A trumpet sounded, a battle begun

I look behind me but no country- nobody

But I'm already here and my feet are all muddy

Watching intently- depending on I

Dependable I am for in failure some die

I am a fighter a lone soldier brave

From the town to the the streets where's the many I save?

I'm here for a battle- a truly great War

But looking around me no bodies, no gore

I'm saving the people from something I'm sure

From some evildoer, from some wicked Fuhrer

My Allies in hiding my friends all away

All by myself with no big speech to say

I am just a person, a single person brave

And where are the many people to save?

Nothing worth saving, doubting my place

A hope lost from people, the hope in the race

Alone as I am, Alone so I'll be

As brave as I am, who's the one saving me?

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Earliest known poem for me.  Earliest number one placing.

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jaime's picture

i read this last year in speech class and it felt so great reading it outloud.

Lou Pignatelli's picture

Ever read 'Invictus' by Henley? Mmmm ... less defeated romanticism. Though initially similar, later, defeat is acknowledged by you and not by the champion romantic.
The thing about this online is, there are so many questions I want to ask ... because of ambiguity or interpetation. From reading your poetry I see this last cuplet |Alone as I am, Alone so I'll be
As brave as I am, who's the one saving me?| as an acknowlegement of human lonliness and an acceptence of a savior not of a human quality, but should I have not read the others I'd assume you were describing someone human who is equally alone.
It's interesting that you go from a warrior/battle situation to a situation in which you discuss not fighting an enemy, but disucssing companionship. Additionally, this is interesting because of the fine line between love and hate. It really is fine, as fine as the woman who walks across it, the thin rope without a net that it is. Or otherwise.

Raven Darkum's picture

Love this poem, its beautiful, your a great writer.