Poetry – Page 2 – R.K. Lightfoot

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.

Poetry

Moon Bound & Whitechapel

Oct 19, 2018Apr 12, 2019 lefthandwriter99

Moon Bound
A slave, chained and bound by the moon
Bringing forth an evil that’d make the Devil swoon
My bones shattered, skin teared and muscles shredded
Transformed into the beast every soul dreaded
Whitechapel
Sitting in Whitechapel,
Contently cleaning my scalpel.
A busy night’s work,
Has brought forth a gentle smirk.
A kidney, fresh cut and fried
And my funny little games to keep me satisfied.

– R.K. Lightfoot

‘Moon Bound’ and ‘Whitechapel’ are two short poems that make up my attempt at doing some poetry for the Halloween season. ‘Moon Bound’ is about a werewolf going through the painful transformation process. ‘Whitechapel’ is from the perspective of Jack the Ripper having arrived home after committing another murder in Whitechapel. “my funny little games’ was taken from the ‘Dear Boss’ letter that claimed to be written by Jack the Ripper.

Poetry

Lonely Hunt

Oct 7, 2018Apr 12, 2019 lefthandwriter99

Alone in the forest, breath frozen in my chest
Treading the dark wood, a night without rest
Stopped in my tracks, eye to eye with my prey
Both knowing that only one shall walk away

– R.K. Lightfoot

‘Lonely Hunt’ is a short poem from the perspective of a hunter, I tried to create a sense of unease and danger in the poem. I didn’t want it to be certain that the hunter will be the one to make it out alive.
© 2018
Photo via Pixabay CC0