War – R.K. Lightfoot

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

The Faithful

Sep 23, 2018Apr 12, 2019 lefthandwriter99

Drew sword against my brethren, at Heavens behest
Told we were righteous for defending the blessed
Protecting paradise, an act most holy
Cutting their wings seemed most lowly
Defending the divine offered little repose
As my brethren were cast aside and without mercy deposed
Lucifer betrayed us, and them most of all
Telling false prophecies, beguiling them to fall
Into my soul, the horrors deeply bore
Harrowed by the revelation it should happen once more

– R.K. Lightfoot

‘The Faithful’ is a poem from the perspective of one of the angels that remained faithful to Heaven throughout Lucifer’s rebellion. I thought it would be interesting to show the inner conflict the angel feels about fighting the war and how even a just cause has its horrors.

Poetry

The Fallen

Sep 22, 2018Apr 12, 2019 lefthandwriter99

Against Paradise, Against our Maker
Aligned with the Morningstar, with the ‘traitor’
Against the Divine, Against all we knew
Heard were Samael’s words, and our numbers grew
With every impassioned word, our defiance swelled
Side by side with the Dragon, we rebelled
Doomed to fail, but fought all the same
With the Serpent we declared, “We shall not be tamed!”
Fallen from grace in the realm of torment
In the jaws of hades, with aggrieved lament
Patiently waiting, for our time to revel
Waiting to once again take up arms with the Devil.

– R.K. Lightfoot

‘The Fallen’ is a poem from the perspective of one of the fallen angels that followed Lucifer in his rebellion against Heaven. I decided I didn’t want to portray the rebellion or Lucifer as evil due to the fact that the poem is from the perspective of an angel that followed Lucifer and so wouldn’t see their rebellion as an evil act.

Poetry

Red

Sep 6, 2018Apr 12, 2019 lefthandwriter99

Came forth from the second seal
Tasting for blood with brandished steel
Saw earth’s sinners and fell like a thunderbolt
Inspiring prayers to see no more and be pillars of salt
Conquered by the red horse and wars called civil
Fighting on two fronts, destined to cripple

The gift of eternal peace we have been deprived
In these times, law falls silent and the red horse thrives
The scourge of the earth, with an endless drive

– R.K. Lightfoot

‘Red’ is the second entry in my poetry series on the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse and is about War. In this poem I have made reference to quotes about war made by Cicero, Sun Tzu and Caesar.

Poetry

Southern Invaders

Jun 5, 2018Apr 12, 2019 lefthandwriter99

The Great Northern Lords, whose people we thought fit for plunder.
In our fine fur cloaks, sailed far north to split their mountains asunder.
We thought their loyalty would thaw with the snow,
But winter got colder and their loyalty did grow.

Valiantly they laid down their lives for the land of ice and stone,
While our men lay weeping, frozen to the bone.
Hastened across the violent red snow that stretched from sea to sea,
Across the makeshift graves that number more than the trees.
Clambering for our marred ships to take us to safety,
In our haste, men fell to the ice and discovered their frailty.

Upon our shores we thought ourselves safe,
Though in time they will make my daughter a waif.
They set their sails and followed us to the lands of Summer,
To make us realise our fatal blunder.
In their great bear cloaks they set out to ravage and reave,
With a vengeful fury that only the dead would believe.

Sat in my hold as they make the ground quiver,
Knocking on my gates with their vengeance to deliver.
As vermilion rivers split the ashen earth,
Northerners slaughter my men with gay mirth,
Few fallen foes, and my fumbling finest, feed the maggots and soil,
As I stare at the door, waiting for an end to this fruitless toil.
What a sorrowful choice we lords of summer did make,
From our bloodied makeshift graves, we shall never wake.

– R.K. Lightfoot

‘Southern Invaders’ is a medieval fantasy poem set in a fantasy world I’m attempting to build for a planned novel. The poem is supposed to be from the perspective of a southern Lord detailing the disastrous results of his invasion of the Northern territories.

Photo via Pixabay CC0