Sunday, May 13, 2018

Poem Drafts

William Dawes on the Road

Swift in the night,
the trees rushing by,
the hooves on the path
like a drummed lullaby,
Boston behind,
Concord ahead,
message in hand,
through Boston Neck sped
a horse at full speed
with lives at the stake,
Hancock to warn,
the British to break.
Will Adams be saved?
Or Concord have aid?
Midnight comes soon;
a nation is made.

Sacraments

Lo, this infantry
of fragile parts!
May it be fortified
fully and lastingly
by signs of allegiance,
armors of grace,
that strengthen and ease,
restoring to place:
in fight like a sword,
in wound like a balm,
in throes of death
a resurrection.

Culloden

The silent north star
shines from afar
and brave men fall dead where they are.

A heather bed is cold
for loyal men and bold;
and never's account made for why.
The tale will be told
by the young and the old;
but never return those who lie.
The blood trickles far
as dark black as tar;
yes, brave men lie still where they are.

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