The Weapon: a good knight’s tale

July 24, 2023

The Weapon: a good knight’s tale

I wrote my poem, Weapon: a good knight’s tale, in response to the RDP SATURDAY: WEAPON (22nd July 2023) Prompt to compose a post inspired by the prompt.

Weapon: a good night’s tale

The Weapon | Digital oil painting©️Lesley Scoble

The Weapon: a good knight’s tale

On a sunny day in a dark woodland
Bright shafts of light squeeze sideways through branches,
past flickering foliage and gauzy clouds of midges
To land upon the forest floor in sunlit circles; like the spotlight on a stage.
They set the scene for a long and noble fight,

The knight creeps ahead, making no sound
He sneaks across the treasured ground.
Tiptoeing onward through the wood
On a mission for the greater good,
 
He sees the enemy in the shady glade
‘tis his deadly foe with a rusty blade.
He is quick to hide behind a tree trunk
With bated breath; his heart has sunk,
 
Trees groan and wave their branches
Back and forth in the early summer breeze
His old foe is too close among the trees
 What are his life’s chances? 
Oh, oh… he’s going to sneeze,
Atchoo!
 
 I do see you! 
The foe moves in for the attack
The knight charges forward
His enemy draws back.
On guard!
With a lunge, he thrusts his mighty sword ahead
The point of which shall smite the bad knight dead.

And so they fought.
A twig cracks underfoot,
Dry leaves crunch where he stands
Then comes the cry
You’re caught. Raise up your hands! 
He’s about to die… 
 
From high up, he hears a voice
Telling him he has no choice
Put the sword down or you’ll get hurt
Lay it there in the dirt.
 
Thwarted in the midst of battle
He does not want to lay down his arms
He would rather lay down his life.

Put it down or you’ll come to harm
Put it down or you’ll get poked in the eye

His enemy confronts him there and then
His sword would get him and he’d die
 
But the voice from above spoke once again
Put it down this instant, do you hear me?
His enemy’s eyes look with fear
In one of which there was a tear
He looks into the face of his brother
 
The voice from high up spoke again and said,
Do as I say, I’m your mother!
 
His hand held tight on to the hilt
He must do what she wilt.
 
Put it down or you’ll get hurt
Lay it there in the dirt.
 
His heart was full of sorrow
He could not buy or borrow
A sword as grand as this
His weapon.
His.
A weapon that was his and only his.
 
Lay it down, be quick!
It’s not a stick that he is putting down,
but a trusty sword with a golden crown
 
He walks on with a stagger
What’s that in your pocket? His mother asks.
He takes out another stick
and says, ‘tis my dagger. 



_{Lesley Scoble,  July 2023}

Here is a photo of my youngest son Ben who is the inspiration for my poem.

Thank you Punam / paeansunplugged and RDP Saturday for the inspiration.

Lesley lives in the City of London Square Mile. An artist, actor and sculptor (her first ceramic sculpture won the V&A inspired by… Award). Scenic artist & book illustrator, playwright, (her musical play, Rapscallion performed in inner city schools and theatre school); TV dancer; Animator and illustrator for TV production. Set up Pinecone Studios Ltd and IIMSI Ltd drama and filmmaking workshops in London – producing award-winning films made by children.