Poetry

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Daydream (too late for the Weekly Challenge!)



A clang of metal, piercing, shrill,
A whizz of arrow overhead,
A twang of bow by archer skill,
A flashing glint of sword stained red.
The battle rages, fiercely long,
Young lives lay still, sad mothers weep,
But on the frontline there is one
Soundly asleep.


A frigate sails into the blue
To plough the depths of storm-tossed sea,
Sharp keen-eyed sailors battle through
The onslaught of the enemy.
The battles rages, fiercely long
Through fathoms of the ocean’s deep
But ‘neath the masthead there is one
Soundly asleep.


A farmer looks into the skies
And sees the blue covered with grey;
It looks like rain and storm he sighs,
I cannot plough today.
Tired and aching, how I long
To sit and rest, my strength to keep,
I’ll work another day, this one
Is marked for sleep.


But now, this question to my heart
I ask with serious implore
O how can I, in any part,
Lay down my armour, tools or oar?
The battle rages fiercely long
And difficult it often seems
But may I not be found as one
Squandering my hours in dreams

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