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Uther’s Last Battle
by Michael R. Burch

When Uther, the High King,
unable to walk, borne upon a litter
went to fight Colgrim, the Saxon King,
his legs were weak, and his visage bitter.
“Where is Merlyn, the sage?
For today I truly feel my age.”

All day long the battle raged
and the dragon banner was sorely pressed,
but the courage of Uther never waned
till the sun hung low upon the west.
“Oh, where is Merlyn to speak my doom,
for truly I feel the chill of the tomb.”

Then, with the battle almost lost
and the king besieged on every side,
a prince appeared, clad all in white,
and threw himself against the tide.
“Oh, where is Merlyn, who stole my son?
For, truly, now my life is done.”

Then Merlyn came unto the king
as the Saxons fled before a sword
that flashed like lightning in the hand
of a prince that day become a lord.
“Oh, Merlyn, speak not, for I see
my son has truly come to me.

And today I need no prophecy
to see how bright his days will be.”
So Uther, then, the valiant king
met his son, and kissed him twice—
the one, the first, the one, the last—
and smiled, and then his time was past.

Keywords/Tags: King Arthur, Arthurian, Merlin, Uther Pendragon, Colgrim, Saxon, round table, knights, England, chivalry, Camelot
Michael Mar 2019
When Alfred burnt those ****** cakes
While hiding from the Dane.
He proved the fact that he who bakes,
While dreaming of much higher stakes,
If from that day-dream then awakes
Will find it's been in vain.

For that housewife, she who boxed his ears,
Can you believe her cheek?
Chased away his grand ideas
(when hurt, thought always disappears),
And then, in dudgeon, she shed tears
So, perforce he had to speak.

To her perforce to speak had he
To calm her angry mind.
Which he did so in all honesty,
He being not unkind.
And they looked about the kitchen for whatever they might find,
That angry housewife, hungry king, forever now entwined.
Tony Luxton Sep 2016
DNA
Are those tiny strands really me?
They say each set is unique
but no one is anonymous
like an inherited trace book.

I carry my history with me.
No wonder I'm overweight
celt viking or anglo-saxon
or two out of three a cross breed.

I even passed this burden to my kids
left slivers all over the place
though I was always told to tidy up.

— The End —