Shine as of fire on the waxen set molted in steam; an epitome
Put within sight of the hustle of war as a hedge for the bludgeons
Seen the implacable justice of care on the mazard
Chosen for symbols of radiant glory to prove to all arete
True in the gyre and unending subjection of deadly down hacking
Worn in the triumph of heroes and lost in the fall of a body
Found in the time of a century’s passing and cleansed of its squalor
Shown in a room through a plate of clear glass for the viewer to behold
Stating the truth for the fallen; a steed in still motion; epitaph
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It's been a couple blog postings since I last threw poetry at you, so here you go. This was another piece done as an assignment for my high school Latin class. It had to be about a certain object, which, as is a bad habit of mine, I never quite got around to directly mentioning. Oh well, I think it's fairly obvious what I'm talking about anyway. Took me about four attempts to settle on the rhythm. The earlier attempts were just, well, bad. I had saved them anyway, as I do with most drafts that I opt to scrap and start over rather than revise, but I never transfered them to my laptop when we junked the old computer. One of the hazards of not drafting on paper first I suppose.
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