War end

I cursed his every step to the platform. It seemed my life had been given for this moment. I had lost count of the brothers lost in battle, each night my sleep haunted by a different bloody field.

But I was shaken with rage by this baying crowd.  Drunken, wretched, wanton souls, with thirst for blood.  Imps feasting on hate, intoxicated with rage and lust.  Is God testing our resolve or is Lucifer making a final play?

The King deserves no mercy, no pity but has the right to die with dignity.  He has the Lord’s name on his lips and this I and my brethren will hold to.  Freedom it seems is not yet fit for the well but rather a ladle.

I feel flames rise through my chest as each cackle spews afore me.  My leathered hand is now rested upon my sword, and I see my anger is shared by those with scars.

A curtain of silence falls over the crowd, goodness had prevailed.  My head bowed to God, my fingers unlocked from my weapon and join in quiet prayer.  Then the King is dead.

I had often thought of the moment when I would again see the flat lands of The Fens atop my horse.  At the turn, through mist, a white house agin the river I have seen.

The noise and tempers rise again.  Without thought I now turn from the crowd and walked towards the Thames.  In this minute I knew my war was not won, that the Lord Protector would soon be besieged by treachery and sorcery.

No solace found at the edge of a low piss soaked Thames.  But in a moment I see a flash of sun dance across a break which I had seen a hundred times by a water mill.  But violently this is knocked from me by a pitiful drunken couple tumbling on my path.  God has a means for me before I might find peace.

Dean Reeves

My Civil War links

“England’s Lamentable Slaverie” – the betrayal of the English people


War end

The Battle of Naseby, 14th June 1645 – The routing of the Royalists

The bleeding fields of Naseby

“On Time” by John Milton

My Poetry

Ghost Tree

The First Fen Blow

You should look away

I have not woken 

Bottled Love

War end

A lover’s touch


Beauty of her nature 

Fierce Love

The Rat

My Moody Girl

We have met before…

You are….

Looking Up


Stare of the Moon

Holding the thread


Stone cold love

The imps are feasting

I am more than a tree

Wisbech Morning

The bleeding fields of Naseby

I did not cry

We are England

Curtain Call

Do not pity the English

Turning Left

Prosperity of Evil

Bang Up

“The Return of Black Shuck”

“I saw You” by Dean Reeves

“Bring the wind” by Dean Reeves

“I choose” by Dean Reeves

“Forgotten Dancer” by Dean Reeves

“Market Day” by Dean Reeves



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s