Of Bard and Battleground...

The battleground where wars are waged that only One can see

Can make or break the strongest bard in unformed poesy

The tear that never dims the eye, but burns the midnight oil

Slays legions only thought descries as enemies recoil

The sword where faith and hope takes wing would falter in despair

If want were satisfied with things and fate our only prayer

But peace and joy their gifts employ in kind simplicity

Its Giver helps us to destroy thought’s evil enemy

The rogues that bully branch and bush in winter-wild torment

Recruit allies to crush the soul in bitter, vile dissent

But, though the elements unleash their raging escadrille

Thought proves where its allegiance lies when battle-cries are still

The bard must bear, unlike the rest uncommon agonies

Sometimes the air cannot attest to heart-intricacies

Word-thirsty battle-cries reverberate without a sound

Where bard and pen must mitigate thought’s brutal battleground

© Janet Martin