The Second of May by Bob Atkinson

The Second of May

(c)2011 Bob Atkinson

stallions abreast

so still, in two files

carrying old traditions

brought many miles

snorts of wild breath

seemed eager to fight

these beasts of the war cry

expressing their might

scimitars held

high above heads

blades newly sharpened

to chop off some heads

the citizens shouted

the citizens begged

give us our world back

and leave us our bread

don't bring us the Arabs

again to our shores

to take from our lives

our culture and mores

this stand-off had happened

it seemed quite surreal

the edge of a fight

for expansionist zeals

a king that was weak

left his country to foes

to conquer this land

with armies of Moors

the Celts weren't foreign

were of blood like the rest

yet fought for those men

who paid them the best

ideals it was said

spread faster than fire

when landing on foreign shores

creating quagmires

and here in the heart

of the Spanish homeland

sat those who had been driven

back to their own lands

powerful stallions

upon which were men

who longed to recapture

this good fertile land

and others who felt

this wasn't to be

no long term occupation

was wanted or needed

then came the order

immediately obeyed

to put down rebellion

on this fine spring day

keep those who oppose

what had been installed

the brother of a tyrant

replacing weak Charles

they drove down the street

in columns of fours

clapping the cobblestones

the noises of horses

blades at the ready

to slash those opposed

to the orders of Napoleon

and to calm restore

Pablo stood

at the front of the pack

not willing to surrender

or even run back

to the shelter of alleys

to safety of corners

of doors he could hide behind

or walls he could climb over

he stood like a statue

dagger high in the air

this would be his fight

of his life he'd not care

his pride swelled over

his fears for his life

his sons and daughters

were safe with his wife

his country was harmed

by these despicable Moors

who teamed up with French

to conquer his Spanish home

this wouldn't stand

this force on his sands

stomping traditions

developed through eons

Tomas at his side

as always to be

his friend and supporter

in all of his deeds

not seeing too clearly

through glasses steamed

Tomas stood proudly

with Pablo his friend

they charged down upon them

to push the crowd back

with screams in Arabic

a deadly attack

Tomas held in his hand

his father's sharp dagger

with handles of ivory

and family name carved in

covered with gems

this wasn't to be

a weapon of war

but was now needed

as something to fight with

not much around

had not planned battle

yet they stood their ground

Francisco and Raul

stood by their side

nervously twitching

but held by their pride

to the center of action

to this lovely square

in the town of Madrid

with its clean spring air

the others, they followed

the mass of angered folks

the group of dissenters

their country taken over

as the stampede of horses

approached them so fast

they took deep breaths

thought would be their last

Pablo grabbed

the first horse's muzzle

and swung him around

tossing the rider from him

down on the ground

the man with the turban

shouted out loud

as Pablo's dagger dug in him

straight to his heart

beating its last

thinking of mother

and dear old dad

up the horse stood

to protect his man

giving the body

a good hoof slam

fight they gave

for what they could

some died of intrusion

of the curved swords

some had heads chopped off

some simply succumbed

to the thrust of a dagger

in the fist of someone

someone who knew

not who they were

or cared in the least

if their children were murdered

and so it was

on that fine spring day

how some with the passion

for ideals displayed

more courage than cunning

more deed than thought

more pride than was safe

in the end

being killed or caught