This came runner up in a national competition of 10,000 entries recently... Close - but no coconut! :O(
‘A Sonnet to a Warrior Maid..’
Sleep soundly on Brittania’s wilful child,
neath wildling moors; nigh waves run tempest wild;
Dream deep of battles joined and foes’ dark spoil,
which life blood stains black yet your blessed soil;
Sweet slumber maid, lay down your sword and shield,
and rest you now ‘til all your hurts be healed;
Soft tend your wounds, brave maiden, bind them round,
and reverie of Drake and this dark Sound.
For none shall come that once have tried your arm,
nor one shall pass your sons that dare you harm;
And we shall sing you shanties; salt and sweet,
stood steadfast sentry at your granite feet...
Lest choirs the blood spat martial host once more,
to beg this maid, this Plymouth, sing of war...
“A tribute to Plymouth - My City!
This came runner up in a national competition of 10,000 entries recently... Close - but no coconut! :O(
‘A Sonnet to a Warrior Maid..’
Sleep soundly on Brittania’s wilful child,
neath wildling moors; nigh waves run tempest wild;
Dream deep of battles joined and foes’ dark spoil,
which life blood stains black yet your blessed soil;
Sweet slumber maid, lay down your sword and shield,
and rest you now ‘til all your hurts be healed;
Soft tend your wounds, brave maiden, bind them round,
and reverie of Drake and this dark Sound.
For none shall come that once have tried your arm,
nor one shall pass your sons that dare you harm;
And we shall sing you shanties; salt and sweet,
stood steadfast sentry at your granite feet...
Lest choirs the blood spat martial host once more,
to beg this maid, this Plymouth, sing of war...
© Sullivan the Poet 2012”