Marshall

My Poems:

Original Poems:

The Battle By: Marshall Steven

1 In the heat of Battle 2 Men will scream out 3 People will get hurt 4 Many will die

2 Men will scream out 5 When under fire 4 Many will die 6 Needing their families

5 When under fire 7 Men will cry 6 Needing their Families 8 Needing a place to hide

7Men Will Cry 3 People will get hurt 8 Needing a place to hid 1 In the heat of battle

"In the heat of Battle" x2 = Repetition

"heat of battle" = Situation

Heros By: Marshall Steven

A1 The soft thud of boots across a desert street b The looks of young men’s pale faces A2 In the silence I hear their heart beat

a We head to death, are fate complete b We run for cover, an all out race A1 The soft thud of boots across a desert street

a The soldiers ran never stopping, till’ defeat b Soldiers helping wounded, locked in embrace A2 In the silence I hear their heart beat

a The sweat of our brow, we won’t be beat b Our expressions without relief, not a trace A1 The soft thud of boots across a desert street

a Our gun barrels burning with heat b Bullet casings hit the ground, with a gold sleek A2 In the silence I hear their heart beat

a We walk back with sore feet b We’d won and came back, without disgrace A1 The soft thud of boots across a desert street A2 In the silence I hear their heart beat

"soft thud of boots" = Onomatopoeia

"gold sleek" = Vivid Word

An un-original poem:


 * **To An Athlete Dying Young** ||
 * By: A.E. Housman ||

[]
 * THE time you won your town the race || ||
 * We chaired you through the market-place; || ||
 * Man and boy stood cheering by, || ||
 * And home we brought you shoulder-high. || ||
 * To-day, the road all runners come, || ||
 * Shoulder-high we bring you home, || ||
 * And set you at your threshold down, || ||
 * Townsman of a stiller town. || ||
 * Smart lad, to slip betimes away || ||
 * From fields where glory does not stay, || ||
 * And early though the laurel grows || ||
 * It withers quicker than the rose. || ||
 * Eyes the shady night has shut || ||
 * Cannot see the record cut, || ||
 * And silence sounds no worse than cheers || ||
 * After earth has stopped the ears: || ||
 * Now you will not swell the rout || ||
 * Of lads that wore their honours out, || ||
 * Runners whom renown outran || ||
 * And the name died before the man. || ||
 * So set, before its echoes fade, || ||
 * The fleet foot on the sill of shade, || ||
 * And hold to the low lintel up || ||
 * The still-defended challenge-cup. || ||
 * And round that early-laurelled head || ||
 * Will flock to gaze the strengthless dead, || ||
 * And find unwithered on its curls || ||
 * The garland briefer than a girl's. ||
 * The still-defended challenge-cup. || ||
 * And round that early-laurelled head || ||
 * Will flock to gaze the strengthless dead, || ||
 * And find unwithered on its curls || ||
 * The garland briefer than a girl's. ||
 * The garland briefer than a girl's. ||