Narrative Poetry | Was It Luck or Divine Intervention?

A Rustic Cleaver’s Flight

A Tale From the Shrubbery

Bloodthirst conquest, in our minds, they stir; Where do such dark imaginations fester? Do we have an angel guide, Or was luck alone by our side to survive?

One foot, one hand, after another, We ascend two-by-fours, resting aboard A plank high up in an oak-top canopy, Conjuring battles of Germanic bravery,

Growling like heathens, slaying Mythic beasts that dared contest our station, Groping its wooden curves, Earthy essence of linseed oil in our palms,

Haphazardly, without hesitation, Through airy slashes of hairbreadth misses, Let loose the hickory handle, hurdling The rustic cleaver into saw palmettos,

Descending in loops, belly over blade, Whoosh — whoosh — whoosh… Crackle — thud, Disappearing into evergreen shrubbery,

Suddenly, as if by magic sorcery, Our lucky friend emerged from within, Looking down at their cacophony, How’d that axe not sever their crown?

What a horrific tale we’d have found, Of fragile life so dear, Lost in perilous play, In memoriam of an unlucky end.

Grateful, whether by luck or divine intervention, our pretend battle didn’t turn tragic that day. In response to Jonny Masters’ inspiring prompt at the Poetry Playground, write about a time when you were particularly lucky.