The fairest days of the aeons of time
And the darkest minds through the dunes of the ink
Have together in passions so prime
Swept entirety with a link.
Weak voices made weaker by the noises of tools
And feeble souls slammed sheerly by the muscles of the strong
Have never made of wisdom any known fools
Than declare where ever anyone went wrong.
Nursing mothers of the winter shock
And wounded natives of the country side
Have neither in their lives to the course of war mock
But devoured in the enemy’s only ride.
Famous tutors of the counted years
And infamous fellows of the insignificant days
Have counseled modern pens to include the rears
Not to forget the gains from ranting intellectual rays.
Hear Monks aim for the Divine Plan
Look how the Ulamas yearn for the peaceful war
That not a drop of their blood would span
Neither save their sacredness but through the continuing door.
Hefty pardons from Joan of Arc
And interesting cunniness from the horses of Napoleon
Have only craved for the lasting mark
To reserve the least in books of theirs as a clone.
Then,hungry tongues of the eating men
And the priding hands of the beautiful folks
Has History entreated never to end
That their days forever be remembered in its books.
© Tydale Bassey Abigail