The Godwake

 

He stretched himself slowly

And rubbed at his eyes,

Rolled over and got to his feet,

His breastplate was rusty, the straps and the eyes

Had mouldered while he was asleep,

And on the horizon, though barely awake

The sun struggled over the hill,

It gleamed on the droplets of dew on the grass

As the figure stood listening and still.

 

His eyes, they looked puzzled

His visage was grim,

He looked for the pillars of home,

And where were the votaries praying to him,

The Standards, the Legions of Rome?

And where were the barracks, the stables, the mess,

The clash of the soldiers within?

The silence of centuries caught at his ears

And the meadows lay, fallow and green.

 

He looked for the portals that

Over the hill,

Had stood for Minerva, his bride,

The altar, mosaics, the statue of him,

The flowers from the countryside.

The sentries that stood at attention all day

Protecting his bride at her bath,

The fountain that gushed by the altar inside,

The meandering hillside path.

 

He came upon hedgerows

And thickets and trees,

The landscape had altered its creed,

No sign of his goddess, the altar, the bees

That had buzzed in the glade for their mead.

He stood for a moment, a tear at his eye,

Then roared in some Latin, and groaned,

As lightning forked down at the primitive sound

That had brought every province to Rome.

 

A man wandered out from

A thicket down there,

A hedger who wielded his shears,

He shrunk at the lightning and pulled off his cap,

Heard Latin, and covered his ears,

The country ran deep in the old fellow's veins,

From Angle and Saxon and Celt,

Before his beloved Britannia had been

Like a slave on a Roman's belt.

 

The God stood a terrible

Thirty hands high,

The old man had judged, by his horse,

His helmet, though rusty, had brown-ringed the sky,

His eye had set fire to the gorse,

He looked at the old man, who fell to his knees,

And sensed there was something amiss,

He bid him arise, and he looked in his eyes

And he pointedly stared at the shears.

 

The hedger was cunning,

He opened his shears,

And pointed the blades at the God,

'These shears are magic, I bid you beware!

They act like a lightning rod.

These shears have cut down the Legions of Rome,

They've banished them all from our shores,

Have toppled your chapels and scattered their gods,

So none of this country is yours!'

 

The God turned and staggered

Way over the hill,

And down to a ribboning road,

The enemy's chariot came at him, until

He could see where the charioteer rode,

He drew out his mighty and rusty old sword,

Swung once, 'til it ran him right down,

And Mithras was shattered and battered to dust

On the outskirts of Caerleon Town!

 

The hedger laid Rosemary,

Parsley and Thyme

At the place where her altar had been,

He'd known in his bones that it lay in his fields

For Minerva was locked in his genes,

While a Mack eighteen-wheeler lay dead by the road

With a slash that had sliced it apart,

And a gibbering driver was heard to exclaim:

'I'm done with those purple hearts!'

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Valentine]

David, this is wildly funny..over here we call them 18 wheelers, a few days ago my nephew nearly was be headed in one ..The staying awake part is so true as many in my family are and were truck drivers and they hurry to their destination and take pills to stay awake..Often causing accidents..But this was wild and I know it comes from your terrific imagination..You are really a great writer mate..love and God bless you and Lyn..Kathie

[Mark]

Your poems never disappoint, David...though I was rather taken aback by the humorous turn in the final stanza. I had felt really challenged by what a Roman god might feel like, might think, if awakened in the 20th century, to find all his priestesses dispersed, all his temples struck down, and the populace outraged rather than worshipful at his reappearance! Also a little confused--in a heads-up duel between a field worker and a Mack truck, would the hedgetrimmer actually have won? Appreciated the reference to Mithras, from whose co-opted symbology most of out Christmas observations are taken!

[Lena M. P.]

Oh my friend you did it once again. I didn't see the ending coming. I felt this was a rip van winkle story but then you threw me a curve. Very well written and the imagery one of your best.

[alan khan]

real joy to read your poetry. i've never been good with reviewing except in saying i really enjoyed it. you've got a way with words that i really enjoy, and it's kind of refreshing.

[R J Askew]

I latched onto verses 5-7 which made me think of Britain and the EU, with the EU being the latin giant standing over the plucky British hedger. An insane way to read it, I admit, but it rang my bell that way!

[emmajoy]

What an incredible piece of writing .. has so much in it, it's like opening an early Christmas present!

Your time slot throws up so many pictures .. decorative and meaningful .. shows reference to history as well as being really imaginative! Second read showed an animated strip of action which was almost real!

Rosemary for remembrance and all that .. seems the Driver on his journey might have taken more than herb .. ( but, having read your notes, understand more ). There's humour in this too tho took me three reads to realise that

'While a Mack sixteen-wheeler lay dead by the road With a slash that had sliced it apart, And a gibbering driver was heard to exclaim:' I'm done with those purple hearts!'.'

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

I love this. While I understand the intent of the poem, I feel the intent in no way detracts from the beauty of the mythological aspects of the poem. I rather like the notion of a God falling asleep, a deep sleep, lasting eons, only to wake to discover that things have changed. You took it to the present, switching the story from the persepctive of a woken god to being that of a sleepy, drug-induced, hallucinating driver of an 18-wheeler. This was extremely clever and I love, love, love, the title. You are amazing!

Love,

Linda Marie

[Ellen Hammond]

A delightful story in poetic verse! Expertly penned with wit. Loved the ending! Having known drivers who took such meds to stay awake, I can see how an experience such as this might sober one up very fast. Delightf to read as all your work is!

[Ferg]

thanks for the clarification. i was trying to tie the medal into the piece and i wasn't being very successful at figuring it out! NOW it makes perfect sense! :) another fine nod from the world of pharmaceuticals! :)
your american friend.........

[David Lewis Paget]

Just a note for our American friends who might think that purple hearts are medals - in Oz they're little pills that semi-trailer drivers take to keep them awake over long distances - with the unfortunate side effect that they produce hallucinations.