Sacked

Fire lights the sky
While all around
The dead lay heaped
Upon the ground
The wounded voice
A plea for Grace
The answer they'll
Not want.
A flash of Bronze
The voices stop
As the Victor
Loots the corpse
From out the dark
More cries rebound
From ravaged women
Laying bound
While groups of Chieftains
Draw lots to see
How many will
His portion be.
The City stormed
The Treasure stole
Its' people now
Will pay the tool
It would not yield
Now sacked it stands
No longer first
In this fair land.
The screams restart
The Lots are drawn
Each Chieftain takes
His prize
And those who're left
The slavers beat
To silence all their cries.
The Children herded
To fill the carts
The first to be sold off
The Women next
With screams and pleas
Each one does
Know her lot
From this day forth
She'll work and toil
Or warm her Masters' bed
And with each day
The Gods she'll pray
That she had been
Struck dead.
The cries and wails
Fade down the road
As we our camp
Do strike, and
Loaded ships out
In the Bay, wait
For the coming tide.
We fight for gold
And women too
Fair payment for
Our work
And now we sail
For distant lands
In search of other Loot.

I love this poem first for it's a great story about going avicking which was the vickings favorite sports...sacking and looting...and though some will think me "bizarre" for saying this coming from a woman...
I love it for its violence for it is what's it's all about...sacking is not a gentil love story...it's pure violence and it is well described in your poem.

When one is able to feel what one is reading it is because it is well written from the author.

Thank you,
LOA