Resurgam I

I can hear the horror

of drowning horses,

along the Cornish Atlantic coast. 

War horses, 

destined for the front line

mud of Flanders fields.

Cargo for men 

to slaughter

other men.

Stan was horse-mad,

a lithe 9th Lancer.

Edith sobbed when

she received the card:

missing in action.

Her younger brother, 

held the cavalry charge

like knights of old

without their armour,

just a sword, a lance

and his horse set

against the bullets and bombs.

Years later, she met a man

who had seen Stan's 

head blown off at Mons.

Finally, she was able 

to start grieving.

Samuel never forgot 

the convoy ship 

crowded with 

a thousand horses.

Their desperate, screeching whinnys,

more haunting even 

than the sounds

of drowning sailors

off the coast of Chile,

his friends aboard 

HMS Monmouth,

734 lives lost in cold water.

Torpedoes broke

through the lines of protection;

his ship that saved

so many from a similar fate, 

could not save these horses

or his matelot mates.

Their drowned ghost manes

still flail the waves

crashing the Cornish coast

in Manannan's cavalry charge.

Resurgam is their battle cry.

SCM 2020

HMS Phaidon (Samuel’s ship)

Stock photo

Stock photo

Stock photo