The Warrior King Hayd

A prequal poem to a story I am writing.

The Warrior King Hayd

The swords swung and the arrow flew
Warriors of old emulated by the youth
Bloodied in their armor
Death chosen before their dishonor

General’s command bellowed aloud
Warrior’s battle cries do they sound
The lines of battle pitched and heaved
Neither side was willing to concede

Ere the sun set on the battle field
Countless were carried upon their shield
The soil, in blood, it was bathed
Ere the surrender flag was waved

One man rose above the rest
His fame gained on his enemy’s last breath
Vision tinted red with rage
Many a foe fell to his blade

Once a thief, a fugitive and a slave
All past deeds forgotten this day
His battle prowess, a future it gave
Harken this tail of the warrior King Hayd