A Tale of Going North

Note: This is another trial thing related to my melodramatic exercise. I don't do poetry. Too indirect. I am about as poetic as a walrus. But I really like those old Viking-like tales in a poetic form, so I went for one of those. However, I have no clue as to what's good in a poem/saga/whatever. If this is no good, tell me so I can avoid/work on it. This is based on a true story- fortunately without the death and hiking. That's good, right? I'll stop rambling now.

The first division went north

Over grassland and pine

Through brick and rock rubble

Past bent and broken signs

Through the net of old tarmac

A triplet of pairs, feared

North through city, field and town

The first division endeared

One man's name was Jacob,

Or jokingly known as Boots

A thick blonde beard plus a earring

And a twisted and mangled foot

Another man's name was Charlie,

Given the rank of Scout

A thin stubble of hair on his scalp

In descriptive terms, like a lout

Then there was good old Duarte

Who kept his head through and through

Tall, thin, wiry and smart

But unable to keep to his cue

Next up was the lad called Tom

Who was strangely adept with a knife

Young and theatrical, like they all are

Though mixed up plenty of strife

Then there's that one called Jack

An able, merciful soul

He was the one who made all the plans

And lead the rest to their goal

And finally there is Ashley

A dyed man of piercings and screams

Alongside Tom in his strife-stirring

The rest are the opposite team

The division went through the roads

Rifles in hand, as well as spears

The day they spent, all muttering

Night was for joking and jeers

All like this they travelled

Through the cities for seventeen days

Until they had no food for a week

And Charlie passed away

The rest mourned him hardly

For they knew they must travel on

But each step was a little bit harder

For one good friend was now gone

All like this they shuffled

Through the fields of corn for nine days

Until a pack of rabid dogs came

And Jacob passed away

The rest didn't stop to mourn him

Alas, they feasted on corn

Further they went, to the Midlands

And a new saga was born

All like this they grated

Through grass hills for twelve days

Until a slate step proved too slippery

And Duarte passed away

This time they reminded themselves

Of their morals of human respect

So stayed in silence for an hour

Before again moving through the net

All like this they trundled

Through Yorkshire towns for eight days

Until a fire broke out in the camp

And Tom then passed away

Ashley mourned his passing

Something not mirrored by Jack

Tensions rose between the two

A strange wall-raising game

All like this they laboured

Through the same town for one day

Until the anger burst forth from Ashley

And a fight forced them to stay

Jack was blasted by insult

And he paid Ashley in kind

But the rifles had run dry of ammo

And Ashley made up his mind

That night Ashley didn't sleep

Not 'til the moon hung in the sky

That he then roused from the ground

And forced Jack to die.

And so they had travelled far

From Oxford to here in five weeks

Ashley was now all alone

And he found he could not sleep

The first division went north

Through turmoil, inside and more

Through pain and cold murder

And their long and fruitless chore

They never reached their goal

Nor did they finish their show

The jokes would go untold

The cues never followed in toe