Swing of the Battle Axe

A cycle of poems «Anamnesis morbi»

In the clash of steel, where battles rage,
A weapon of might, an ancient sage.
The battle axe, a formidable blade,
With each swing, a tale to be made.

Oh, the swing of the battle axe,
A relentless force, an uncanny act.
It cleaves through flesh and crushes bone,
A symphony of destruction, a haunting tone.

Forged in the fires of war's embrace,
It wields the power to shatter and displace.
In the hands of a warrior, bold and strong,
It dances through the battlefield, a deadly throng.

Its serrated edge, a cruel design,
Ripping through armor, severing the spine.
With every blow, a crimson stain,
Leaving a wake of carnage in its train.

Oh, the swing of the battle axe,
A relentless force, an uncanny act.
It cleaves through flesh and crushes bone,
A symphony of destruction, a haunting tone.

From ancient battlefields to modern fray,
The battle axe has held its fierce sway.
In close combat, an unmatched dread,
Its wielder, a force to be feared and dead.

So let the swing of the battle axe be known,
A symbol of war, where fates are overthrown.
In the annals of history, its legend told,
A weapon of power, forever bold.