Back(B)log

November 21, 2017

The Standard-bearer

A roseate sky to greet the sun,
Below the tall, greying mountain,
Blood-soaked sand crunch beneath men,
As they march through the noisome fen.

The carrion fowl circle the sky,
Early come; ranging far and wide,
Lowering now; as the armies cry,
When men war in senseless pride.

Their frenzied mob in fevered awe,
A hush pervades as the Captains halt,
A cry bursts forth the Leader's maw
Eager soldiers begin their assault.

Banners waving; the Cornets bawl,
The army gathers in the Flag's thrall,
The Ensign forth; brave and tall!
Proud his slogan; heed his call!

Forces clash with ringing steel,
As helms split and shields yield,
Red rivers flow as the sands beal, 
Brothers fight on for the sallow field.

The Ensign leads, the loyals charged,
A halberd unseen, his gut enlarged,
The Standard planted, his duty discharged.
Dead eyes behold the pennon, love writ large.



When the battle is over and all is done,
And the old wails for the fallen son,
And voices shout that peace is a mun,
The pennant stands still; alone it has won.