Noone kills the walkers
as a lion poisons the flower,
in the battle of roar against growth
winter wolves ride alongside the dragon
bathed in blood and wildfire
lions buried beneath the red keep,
lay slated with the sand snakes
unbowed to no one
unbent to gods unknown
unbroken to spirits of captured men
as fate takes dragon's horns
when the battle with flame won
the white wolf outlasts them all
blazing north,
beyond the ice wall,
now that winter has come.
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Author:
kitty the naughty poet (
Offline) - Published: December 7th, 2021 05:15
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 24
- Users favorite of this poem: Paul Bell, FallenAngel1🕊
Offline)
Comments3
Lovely!
cheers
Wolves always outshine the rest, the howl being their boastful cry.
Great poem.
thanks i do like game of thrones lol
this should be the blurb
on the back cover!
so well written, and
such a classic last line
thank you!
Aw thanks 😊
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