My Longest Day
Night had been short, I still was highly tired
for my bones had been badly maltreated
during exhausting marches. I admired
comrade John who recently had cheated
the Reaper in the north at Stamford Bridge.
I left the troops and headed for a beech
where I relieved myself. The coming fight
transformed it into a cesspool, this ridge.
King Harold on his horse then gave a speech,
out of earshot for the fyrd, out of sight.
When the enemy advanced I started
to shake like a leaf and had to vomit.
In the front the first soldiers departed
this world. "Count details and do not omit
your prayer", John advised. "Mother Mary,
please protect me and my comrade John!" In
a body then I counted three arrows.
Our brave Saxon shield wall withstood ... perry
for all! An early promise we would win
the day? Chirping, I counted eight sparrows.
After long turmoil of battle a rest,
I counted wounded and I counted dead.
Among the killed were many of the best
and fully-fledged soldiers. I ate some bread,
then Norman buglers sounded the next charge.
Will men ever stop slaying each other?
King Harold was killed, either by four knights
or by an arrow in his eye. Our sarge,
mortally wounded, cried for his mother,
while John and me betook ourselves to flights.
May 22, 2022
Form O- Ode- New poems Poetry Contest
sponsored by Constance La France
theme: memory
three 10 line stanzas, 10 syllables per line
rhyming pattern: ababcdecde fgfghijhij klklmnomno
I am aware that I only considered the formal requirements, strictly speaking this is not an ode. Please let me know if I should better take part in a different contest - thank you!
Copyright © Anton Bradinger | Year Posted 2022
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