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SewedCodeMode — The Played Brigade, Part IV
#ballad #poetry #rhyme
Published: 2017-06-16 00:26:46 +0000 UTC; Views: 715; Favourites: 1; Downloads: 0
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Description
Listen ye all,To another tale,
Young, steady, or nigh,
The Played Brigade
Still rose to stand
In an unsurpassed try.
Our mighty team
Torn at the seam
Was recollected soon;
A small plot hole
Dense, like a coal
Over lesser times, would swoon.
Prism's lance, in splendor,
Was shattered irreparably.
Her snapping whip
Resounding clip
Echoed almost skeptically.
Blaze was broken, too.
Her special Rusty blade
In sev'ral spots
Now lay in dots
Pieced quietly in shade.
Blue and McPaddy were grim.
'Burry lay quiet and still.
Double D and Marrow
With heart of one sparrow
Were somehow, no longer ill.
The healing power of music
Had conveniently closed the wounds;
Through vibrant thread
They were not dead
A stronger tone, by leaps and bounds.
When travelling back along the path,
Blaze stopped in her tracks.
With naught but a steady gaze,
She asked her friend
Which wound to tend
Though both were in a daze.
Prism was notably shocked.
With her drawing and combat style
Energy had been substantially sapped
And grew steadily worse, down the mile.
In that one moment
What happened, almost description defied.
At the end of the line
Figures, in trine,
Seemed to appear, could not be denied.
Orion, Vultio and Wick
Three young men
In stature certain;
Drove chariots of light
All through the night
With a bow, faced the curtain.
Blue, green and red
Each in their stead
Held such power, in their hearts;
Orion, the benign,
Vultio, clever by design,
And Wick, learned master of the arts.
Orion was gifted;
A voice smoother than silt
Three small stars
Caught within stave's bars
Held his middle, and betrayed his hilt.
Vultio, in green,
Had great command of machine
Only blinking, when needed.
A natural turning
Of talent, and learning,
His inclination was always heeded.
Mighty young Wick
Burned brightly, red with flame.
Spitting the hottest fire, so sick,
He shone without any shame.
These gentlemen three
In some light, we could see
As descended from paragons;
It was a snowy, white day
To run out and play,
Like children hopping on their lawns.
In a matter of moments
The Played Brigade felt better, still;
A conglomeration
In combination
Of their consistently goodwill.
The Farsighted ones
Was the moniker the three wanted;
Having seen the best
And fought the rest
No land of theirs was uncharted.
Orion, Vultio, and Wick
Blue, green, and flashing red;
Prism was caught
In trouble, a whole lot
For her sight, farther ahead.
Anyone with half a heart
Could understand her plight;
Varying shades
Of color, in fades,
She saw with a different might.
Blaze, McPaddy, and Blue
All stood, ready to defend.
In one bright flash
Before they could clash
They lost their dumbfounded friend.
Double D and little Marrow
Stood, shocked, without a word;
They held onto each other
One in tears, both noticeably stirred.
Where Prism went
No one can say, the problem prime;
Blaze awaits
Blue negates
McPaddy watches the time.
The remaining five of the group
Gathered up, in a loop
To determine their next angle;
Hoping for a way
To find Prism, one day
A new strategy they'd finagle.
