Contest

Under the terrible, black moon
A chilling screech and howl resounded
The gates opened for the children of Urgash
And everything around turns to mush
They gnaw, bite, tear, and thrash
But the brave paladin rushes to meet them
Here it is, Arandor's delight
To level the spawn of hell
He was born with a sword in his hand
And every day, Elrath prayed with him
That God of light would protect the brave warrior
And not let him succumb to the enormous

Moderated: INAPPROPRIATE LANGUAGE in the message

I just came up with this, will it pass as poetry?

Added 14 minutes later
There was nothing there :'(