Unrecorded History. Storypoem Poem by ivor or ivor.e hogg

I camped below a rocky tor.
Although I'd not been there before
It felt somehow familiar.
I did not want to drive too far.

I had been late in starting out
And I had too much about.
The Dartmoor fog which frequently.
Descended very suddenly.

Reducing visibility
To almost nil immediately.
I thought it wise to stay the night
and make a start by broad daylight.

I had chosen to drive this way.
Because I was on holiday.
A chance to see new scenery
I have no one to please but me.

I had prepared a picnic meal.
I sat and ate behind the wheel.
The mist descended quietly
and hid the rocky tor from me.

It formed a blanket thick and white
Which softly glowed in the moonlight.
It could have been a movie screen
And formed a backdropp to a scene.


A scene I never thought to see.
A piece of living history.
I watched a battle being fought
With iron weapons crudely wrought.

But still they killed the enemies
They fought with great ferocity
I saw men kill, I saw men die.
Beneath a blue and cloudless sky.

I know they fought long, long ago
But just how long I do not know.
It might have been the iron age.
I do not know enough to gauge.

Who they were by how they dressed.
The battle held my interest.
Because the sheer brutality.
Which somehow I was allowed to see.

Projected on a misty screen.
Was it real: It might have been
Or did I fall asleep and dream.
Quite possible so it would seem.

To those inclined to disbelieve.
And think I am trying to deceive.
Perhaps because they're frightened to
Accept that it just might be true.




I don't pretend to understand,
Why this barren piece of land
Which lay below the rock tor
Men thought it well worth dying for.

But this is now and that was then.
Perhaps it's time to think again.
I cannot see the world they saw
The land they thought worth fighting for.

It's probable I'll never know.
Why this battle long ago.
Was repeated apparently
Somehow especially for me.

It was a strange experience
Which goes against my common sense.
A tale I very rarely tell.
Dartmoor keeps it secrets well.

Friday,21 September 2012