The Mockingbird sings out his misleading best,
in hopes to attract a dupe with a nest,
where the squatter believes mate’s eggs should belong;
so mimics and jabbers uncountable songs.
Catbirds and Thrashers, related critters,
both grey North Americans sport throats of a twitter.
These gifted Warblers mock tricky bird tunes,
deceiving, deluding as feathered dragoons.
In fairness to balance the Tweeters’ intent,
creating, demanding a need to invent
a song to attract a new or lost mate:
so, a beacon to follow and commitment to state.
EXAMPLE MOCK SONGS
whistling, hey-hey yip pittie-yap
frog gurgle, snarf-chickie claw-saw
peep peeping piccolo-staccato bleat
sniftering chit-chat, yodel-do do
snerling, rat trap, blah tat-tat-tat
crunchy nasal chirp, coo-coo-coo
Categories:
dragoons, allusion, betrayal, bullying, irony,
Form: Rhyme
Mikey is an Invictus man,
Gets many medals in archery,
Sporty and keen he continues,
From his previous Army career.
In the Queens Dragoons Guards,
Whilst training he got stuck, fell,
From a rope bridge: broken neck,
Spine, and paralysed from chest.
Help for Heroes helped him live,
He joined the recovery programme,
Several sports took him clean:
Cycling and Ironman triathlons.
But the moment he held a bow,
He knew that archery was his,
To reap with and to sow, build,
To elevate his wins and attempts.
And he was so good at it, supreme,
That HfH asked him to start, set up,
An archery programme for them,
At Phoenix House Recovery Centre.
He took individual bronze, Invictus,
And also team gold. In Holland,
He won a solid individual gold,
And also the team bronze, in 2015.
In Czechoslovak Mikey landed,
The team with a bronze to boast,
And is determined a medal to win,
In Rio, at the Summer Paralympics.
He was born on the 20th of July,
In the year 1975, crude rock days,
And lives in St Martins, Shropshire,
Shooting at Scorton Archery Club.
Categories:
dragoons, body, destiny, dream, health,
Form: Blank verse
From Valhalla’s fortress of spears and shields,
Valkyrie riders make their daily runs…
Crossing Bifrost to Midgard’s battlefields,
Harvesting warriors till Ragnorak comes.
Flying from Valhalla on their war horses,
Thundering hooves beat like old battle drums,
Odin’s blond daughters watching the forces--
Harvesting warriors till Ragnorak comes.
Legionnaires, Pikemen, Hussars and Spartans;
Storm Troopers, Crusaders and Saracens;
Musketeers, Vikings, and Gladiators;
Watusi, Cossacks, and Conquistadors.
As long as men hear the sounds of war drums,
They’ll harvest the best till Ragnorak comes.
Valkyries search for those to stand vanguard,
Recruiting Odin’s Einherjar armies.
Warriors pass Valgrind to live in Asgard--
Honored to be served by the Valkyries.
Hoplites, Commandoes, and Mujahideens;
Samurais, Yeomen, and US Marines;
Guerrilas, Dragoons, and Panzer Tankers;
Grenadiers, Mamelukes, and Bezerkers.
As long as men hear the sounds of war drums,
Valkyries harvest till Ragnorak comes.
Categories:
dragoons, death, mythology, religion, song,
Form: Lyric
was not of folly, but of choice,
for saccharine safety on the higher ground
inside the wall
would cloy his sulpherous soul
and beating down his moble sacrifice
install a glutenous presumption
of a unity unworthy of him.
No, there must be cataclysm
in the leap, dragoons enlisted,
and a lamentation worthy of the feast...
the sighing tempered not by hominid
nor beast, but by a stubborn memory
of infant sleep,
beguiled by nothing more
than fragments in the grass.
~
Categories:
dragoons, allegory,
Form: Free verse
We shall plunder your ship
an old ship of our line.
Dare you fight
This, Ninty-pounder might.
On your trail were
our sloops alright.
Ahoy says my lieutenant.
We have you in sights.
Fifty four on two decks
Like a corvette’s disenchanted ride.
Aligned are our sails as fear dragoons
A point to the starboard parallel we fight
Waving whites
Tarry awhile,
Gunners at ports
Drown main mast and smile.
Where are the whites?
There, She- pirates in tights.
Heated balls, crackling: our main mast, alights.
Holy cow, not a single shot, there goes our defense without fights.
Midshipmen running blind
Armored beauties, capturing, our might.
Quickly sir, tossing uniforms we are travelers in fright.
Cutlass’s here shining blades there, we see no way to flight.
Down on your knees say’s this sleaze size;
Duly chained and cuffed learning to be this pirate’s prize.
Categories:
dragoons, adventure
Form: Free verse