The Warrior Poem by R. K. Hart

The moon has lost it’s comforting embrace,
On the earths’ gentle face.
Now a winter warming glow of sun,
Held each and every one.

Pedants fly in a gusting wind,
Religious men knee for forgiveness of sin.
He looks to his left and again to his right,
His brave brothers stretch beyond his sight.

He sits boldly upon his white steed,
Both with muscles rippling as a field of reed.
His armor glistens in spring rain,
On this field that once gave birth to grain.

Horns clamor against the drummer boys,
Horses snort and stamp adding to the noise.
Visors are down and charge is the call,
He raced on his charger through the smoky pall.

His battle is short,
By a pike he is caught.
Straight after the smoke was it’s point,
Catching the warrior where neck and chest are joint

His shield that once showed family crest with pride,
Now lays beaten mud and blood spatted, on it’s side.
A mother and father have now lost the joy of a son,
A wife and child never again laugh with their loved one.

R. K. Hart 20/5/2013