From Ramparts I Gaze Upon Grassy Plain

From ramparts I gaze upon grassy plain,

Imagination in overdrive with visions of the past.

These walls for protection are all that remains,

A wonder of man that for centuries has last.

 

O’ but the sights they surely must have seen,

Siege and catapult and bone-crushing blows.

Walls bathed in red corrupting lush green,

So many years have passed, it no longer shows.

 

Though beautiful now, what horrors must have been,

As conquerors pined for the treasures of this place.

Frightened citizens scurried as each attack did begin,

Praying to God for the safety of His grace.

 

As blood of man flowed in the name of power and God,

How many precious souls were sacrificed for naught.

Singing of Psalms while carrying thy staff and thy rod,

Marching into battle on the indulgences Rome taught.

 

Promises of Heaven under trumpets thundering call,

Warriors stood their sacred ground.

As each watched their brother with screams of pain fall,

Until not a man made a solitary sound.

 

Much sadness did spread losing husbands and fathers

For life ever after that no man can give.

Not one little bit did their deception bother

Sacrificing lives to horrors no man should live.

 

This warring way of life the Crusades did foster,

Succumbing to the desires of religions holy men.

All for the lands of others their coffers did prosper,

Uncaring towards those they’re charged to defend.

 

These ruins though amazing of time long gone by,

Raise up a sorrow for those who went before.

Reminding us of the men who sacrificed and died,

Hoping these atrocities will rear their heads no more.

 

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

A Bell Doth Toll In Distant Tower

A bell doth toll in distant tower.

From my prison balcony

The smell of figs,

Sweet and fragrant waketh me from my trance.

Much prefered to the odor of irony rot oozing from beneath thy ligatures

That holdeth me captive.

Thy constant seeping maketh me nauseous.

O’ how I long to draw my dagger from its leathery sheath;

To feel thy pressure as I spiral into peaceful eternal sleep.

To taste the honey of death woulds’t be such relief,

For this living art not emulous of life.

I blush to think that this is how my end shalt come,

At the hands of thy cowards and fools.

Yet destiny hath no master

And I, but a pawn shalt be sacrificed

For thine greater good.

I committeth my soul into thine hands;

With the hope that thou mayest sleep at night

Knowing the wrong thou hast done,

–I bid thee farewell.

 

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

 

Mindlovemisery's Menagerie -Wordle #10

Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie -Wordle #10

 

Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie – Wordle #10