Thursday Thought - 1066: a poem

this poem was sent to me by Rebecca McCarthy.
Her thoughts on 1066. I thought it worth sharing

1066


Before

Churlish waves grip
the severe, salt encrusted
rocks
as armies appear
from the Duchy, menacing
murderous malice glints
against the sand.
Weapons hang from jewelled belts
it is time.

Flurries of skirt entangle
from the Lord King
Harold
his reason to live
bids farewell forever.
His fate is doubtful
the helmet, so heavy
like his heart as
he, for the last time
looks upon his England.

Battle

William, the Bastard
has a greed for the crown
a foolish promise made
without a thought
is now a stench ridden corpse
rotting in the ground.
As the Normans charge upon
black stallions
the English, await the battle cry.

Horses hover, eyes gouged
bellies swell with blood
confused,
men stripped of dignity fall
upon matted grass of
blood, waste and sweat.
King Harold's England no-more.

Legs splayed and chain armor
filled with piss
the Bastard falls from his heightened
glory, horse guts gloating over her,
England.
Such contrast as hope, through broken arrows,
a glitter of silver in the
death of night,
fighting alongside fellow Englishman,
Harold Godwinesson.

A surge of despair, a wrong turn, such uncertainty,
blows heave thick and fast
strength seizes his being
Edyth! Oh, his reason to take a breath.
Limbs flailing blindly
one simple strike.

Aftermath

She glides unsteadily
eyes search desperately,
Edyth Swan-neck.
Insults echo among the wind
tears yet to come, will come.
A dull ache
nemo he has become
warmth, so foreign
leaves her body forever.

Those tears
will never cease,
familiar blue boots
are on display in the distance.