Once Were Poets

Once were warriors, these poets, once
were champions; fit, young and tanned
in their battle dress, truth’s exemplars.

Once were worthy, these bravos, once
were steel to stand staunch to ideals,
unassailable in their righteous belief.

Once were harbingers, heralds of new
eras, angels of illusory imaginings where
truth holds a moral constituency.

Once wrote with meaning, once wrote
in fear-trembling hands words wielded
as swords in hand-to-hand combat.

Once died on the field. Once bled sweet
blood in wasted words and blighted breath
with no hope of temporal recompense.

Once were poets who clamoured keen
when hordes invaded, conceded their
scared land, wielded white handkerchiefs.

Once were poets
– who now entertain.
© I.D. Carswell 2007