The Blue Knight Poem by Irene C S ClarkHogg

The Blue Knight

Rating: 5.0


The Blue Knight.



Red hand in the foray, how sound is thy slumber,
Do knights, bent on vengeance, invade all thy dreams?
Does firelight flicker, upon your closed eyelids,
The women, burnt babies; do you hear their screams?

Obeying your orders, I slaughtered and tortured.
The returning husbands, not one soul will find.
At night, while you slumber, I sweat on my pillow,
Afraid of the voices that crowd in my mind.

I know I have shamed this proud sword that I carry.
My blue shield; an emblem that men have admired.
How can I exist with these horrors around me?
I cannot return to my home; to my sire.

I know no heart beats ‘neath that breast-plate of thine, and
No conscience detected, disturbing thy rest.
At night, in your tent, you can always sleep soundly.
Faint heart, do not fail me; let me pass this test.

The deed is now done, Lord, his throat cut asunder.
I cannot feel pity, old comrade of mine.
The stain on your hands has now spread to my fingers.
I draw my sword gladly, just this one last time.

Amphibrachic Rhythm.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Philip Housiaux 29 May 2008

I enjoyed this piece very much. Firstly for the evocation of the man who has become war - his alienation and vulnerability to doing wrong. But also for the subtle metre which does seem to enhance the content in a way I having trouble imagining iambic doing. This is a poem to be proud of, but also to be studied.

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