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The Sword and the Scythe
| Spiritual Journeys #2 |
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The Sword and the Scythe |
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georgek Member
since 2009-06-07
Posts 79
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I strived the ground near this dear mound With sword held high, I hit the ground. My armoured chest had took the pound Of a cannon ball so large and round That it spun my sword all proud and torn To the ground where we were formed. A silence passed just for a while... Then a tile was layed with cross and step To remember me in time of strength Forgotten dreams of Kings and Queens The layman's frock all pitched with scorn To prep the fields for those who steal Lay waste and barren for a Cannon Sweet grass and flowers pleased my gaze Then the field was full of maize... As I watched the seasons slowly change Harsh winds had blown the lucid soils That man had cut with sword and scythe Having never looked beyond the sky But knelt the earth in all the dirt Where he was born from birth to girth To pass asunder from his grave To view the earth that God had made He takes it back from breaking backs Through death and toil and folly man's tale I watched a while as years passed by As people slowly killed and died Then silence fell on this ill mound No sun or moon or harvest groom To till the clutching hands on straw No God..... no dog or maidens frock Came forth to lend a helping hand. For man had tired just like his God Like my rusted scabbard sword.... Lay dead and waste beneath my gaze As I truly fell to waste. I closed my eyes and fell asleep No longer could I hear the children weep.... As they lay deep into a heap ; poisoned breasts of those who ferried Lay squalled and buried by those who cherished No grave or mass or patron's cast, religious gash....... and surplus cash could save the torn and festered trash That man had grazed with a shaven haste With hand held high into the sky He beckons me, and asks me why ? George |
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