Okay, to all of you, this is a really short poem, and I wrote it several years ago about Kestral and Bowman Hath and the Wind on Fire trilogy. Do you mind? I know it's bad, but I had to publish it for the sake of doing so.
The March of the Zars, based on The Wind Singer (give me a break; I wrote it a LONG time ago. We're talking about years here.)
March on! March on!
To Aramanth!
The Zars march on
And sing a song
The song of death
The will to kill
Their song, it has a deathlike chill
Bend your back to the Morah's will
Morah! Morah! Please take a break!
There are a couple of humans at stake!
But no man rides with Morah's arms
They are all dead; oh ghosts be gone!
The ghosts, they march
Not a one falls
They stream on out of the castle's halls
Infinite Zars walk past infinite walls
Come here! Come here! Morah commands,
Burn the Wind Singer down to sands
Then freedom shall never moan true again
And I will rule Aramanth with its vast lands
The citizens of Aramanth have no fear
The Emperor rules; not them, it's clear
With the people naïve, the Zars march near
With their monotonous drums and pounding feet
Going about with their daily rounds
Buying their rice by the ounces and pounds
Walking past gutters, seeing the stars
Not knowing that these things could hide the Zars
Innocent faces of pleasure and glee
Fooling around on the Wind Singer's free
Frolicking over the well-advanced town
I hope the Elders don't look on with a frown
People practice their notes as exams become near
Their normal routine is something to hear
The Zars march on, every day and each night
And the Aramanthics, strangely, show no sign of fright
The sounding of news starts a longlasting brawl
People are gathering up at the hall
Mumpo was said to have seen from afar
The devilish face of a murderous Zar
The Aramanth's forces assemble in days
Sheer numbers of Zars will turn spines into clay
The armies do clash at the easternmost way
We all know which side will pay
The Aramanth holds its ground
But the Zars don't come around
Aramanth will lose in the end
Unless one finds help free for the lend
And we all know the rest of the story
We know who fought,
Who hid,
And who got the glory.
(cough READ THE BOOK cough)