lefthandwriter99

Poetry

San Patricios

Aug 15, 2022Aug 15, 2022 lefthandwriter99

A land wrought with famine and strife

I boarded the floating coffin, hopeful for a new life

Landed in America, the officers already waiting

Tales of wages and land, I joined without hesitating

Took up arms to fight for the American dream

But arrived too late for some, and held in low esteem

Me and my countrymen kicked to the dust

Yet expected to fight in their war, it felt unjust

Still we fought, but not for them

We went to search for a new home once again

With their enemies we found shelter and friends

America marched on, no intention to make amends

Side by side, with every battle we’d lose another

But with every loss, those left would become closer than brothers

Alongside our new brethren we fought hard and true

We continued to defend Mexico, from those that let hatred spew

But luck runs out and now many of us are bound by chains

On Mexican soil I am destined to forever remain

I shall never again see my homeland

Close my eyes to picture the Emerald Island

For the momentously moving Mourne mountains, I mourn

To never again walk in the graceful glens, I scorn

As they tighten the rope, I open my eyes

To look upon this new landscape, this different sky

The colourful and vibrant homes of San Ángel, our safe haven

Home to a people who proved themselves no cravens

Under the still unfamiliar, but marvellous Mexican sun

It dawns on me that I’m at peace, and feel no need to run

I accept the rope, and prepare to die

For to die protecting my new home, I take great pride

– R. K. Lightfoot

San Patricios is a poem about the Saint Patrick’s Battalion that fought for Mexico in the Mexican-American War (1846 to 1848). The poems name come from the battalion’s Spanish name Batallón de San Patricio, with the battalion often being referred to as the San Patricios. The battalion’s members included many who had deserted or defected from the U.S. Army, and was primarily composed of Irish Catholics, but not exclusively. The poem follows an unnamed Irishman in this battalion, who fled Ireland to escape famine and was immediately signed up to fight for the US in the Mexican-American War. But he soon becomes disenfranchised and joins the Mexican Army’s St. Patrick’s Battalion. He is eventually captured and sentenced to die. But before he is executed, the unnamed soldier comes to realisation that he views Mexico as his new home and the Mexicans he’s fought alongside as his fellow countrymen. Something he’s more than willing to die for.

Poetry

Dearest Oppy

Aug 9, 2022Aug 9, 2022 lefthandwriter99

The little rover we sent beyond our reach.

The wonders of Mars you did teach

Turned 90 days, into 15 years of adventure

One storm too many, put an end to that splendour

Your haunting final words left a mark

‘My battery is low and it’s getting dark’

One day, not soon, but one day

We’ll join you up there, I pray

We’ll dust you off, and declare in unity

Thank you dear Oppy. You truly were a once in a lifetime Opportunity

– R.K. Lightfoot

‘Dearest Oppy’ is a poem I wrote years ago to commemorate the Mars rover Opportunity’s last contact with NASA. I recently came across it again while looking through my old work, and was still oddly moved by it. So I thought I might as well let it see the light of day and post it here.

Poetry

Douglas

Aug 3, 2022Aug 3, 2022 lefthandwriter99

A Douglas! A Douglas! Tender and true

In the name of the king, their swords they drew

Good Sir James, whose loyalty was profuse

To the Scottish King, Robert the Bruce

Leading the charge, Scotland’s enemies extinguished

Dubbed the Black Douglas by the fearful English

Loyal to his king, the pride of Douglas

On the journey to freedom, he remained the compass

A bond so strong, the Bruce entrusted his heart

Unfortunate their descendants tore it apart

Oh Douglas, Oh Douglas, Always Tender and True

But against you the king’s swords drew

On the Scottish throne sat King James, a boy of 10

And boy of 16, William Douglas, became a leader of men

The power of Douglas had grew and grew

Threatened felt the king’s council, the powerful few

‘Invite them to feast’, the Lord Chancellor did suggest

‘Invite them to your home, make them your guests’

The young Earl of Douglas, and his little brother did dine

Dinner with the king, who were they to decline?

A mighty feast the king eagerly ordered prepared

But by dinners end, neither brother would be spared

Before William Douglas, a special dish was placed

A black bulls severed head, whose sight left a bitter taste

Seized by the guards, mayhem captured the hall

‘Stop!’ cried the King. ‘What madness has taken you all?’

Ignored was the King, for he held no true sway

The council was where the guards true loyalties lay

Two brothers were dragged out to Castle Hill

And throughout Scotland swept an awful chill

The child called King made to stand and watch

The child called King powerless and distraught

A Douglas! A Douglas! Two boys tender and true

Oh Douglas, Oh Douglas. Two boys they slew

– R.K. Lightfoot

Douglas is a poem about some of the history of Clan Douglas. Chiefly focused on Sir James Douglas (aka ‘Good Sir James’ and ‘The Black Douglas’) and the infamous Black Dinner of 1440 (Supposedly the inspiration for the Red Wedding in A Song of Ice and Fire) in which some of his descendants were slaughtered. It’s been a fair amount of time since I wrote this poem, so it was nice to revisit it and finally get it posted. I still think the poems a little rough around the edges and in need of some future edits. I’ve left this blog unused for nearly four years now, its been far too long and its good to be back at it again.

Poetry

Last Humans Left

Dec 3, 2018Apr 12, 2019 lefthandwriter99

For the very first time, we learned how to walk
For the very first time, we learned how to talk
Met our strong and silent cousins late
Leaving us too soon was ultimately their fate
Left alone in the dark and lonely night
Made us desire to create perpetual light
Left alone in the world without our kin
Left to face the cold, we covered our skin
We look to the stars, and hope
Searching intently through that scope
For its still dark, and we are lonely
And we are the last humans left

– R.K. Lightfoot

‘Last Humans Left’ is a poem from the perspective of a human (duh) who is lamenting the deaths of their ‘cousins’ soon after they met. This is meant to allude to the Neanderthals, ‘strong and silent’, who died off not long after first making contact with Homo Sapiens (us). The speaker portrays the loneliness the human race feels as a result of this fact and their desire to find intelligent life elsewhere so as not to be alone anymore.

Poetry

Cider Country

Nov 22, 2018Apr 12, 2019 lefthandwriter99

Picking apples was his vocation
Pressed into cider and sold across the nation
Hundreds of trees, all but one planted before his time
One that’s since grown too tall to climb
A head above the rest, stood the young and mighty tree
Causing strife for the picker and his knobbly knees

The secret of its growth hidden below
Too deep to be picked at by the circling crows
Entangled by the hungry roots, lies the pickers wife
She found apples too bitter, and so he took her life

– R.K Lightfoot

‘Cider Country’ is a poem about a passionate apple picker whose family have been picking at the orchard for generations, who we find out killed his wife in a rage because she was critical about the bitterness of one of the apples. An attempt at some dark humour in this poem with the absurd motivation and the bluntness with which the murder is revealed.