Sunday, November 22, 2009

Madness in My Royal City

Madness. Everywhere.
Even my servants sing of
Thousands and tens of thousands.
He is here, they sing,
Like some mad savior,
A mad savior seeking refuge,
A mad savior running
From that madman in Israel.

Selah, shewbread, priest of Nob;
He utters nothing but madness.

My mad servants sing to
Recognize, to herald,
To welcome, to embrace,
To lionize the lion, to
(Slyly) warn of his (sly) arrival
In my royal city,
To find refuge or, perhaps,
More tens of thousands?

Selah, shewbread, priest of Nob;
What is this lionized insanity?

Some of his tens of thousands,
Some of his fame were
My people of Gath.
His first was our champion,
Our giant who stopped an army in fear,
Except for the wretched shepherd boy
With his smooth stones of death.
Flung with careless abandon and deadly aim.

He mutters a darkness of
Selah, showbread, priest of Nob.

He comes to Gath, he comes
To my royal city as a madman,
A crazed mind;
This, the slayer of tens of thousands?
This, who holds a dagger of fear
At the heart of Israel’s king?
This, possessed by demons, spittle in
His beard, pounding on my walls?

I hear the madness inside my own head,
Selah, showbread, priest of Nob.

We have enough insanity in Gath,
Enough servants singing wildly,
Enough madmen to fill a city.
Send him back, back
To his own.
Let the servants of his own king,
His own Achish,
Let them sing of tens of thousands.

Selah, showbread, priest of Nob,
The madman carries a giant’s sword.


Maureen said...

What a scene you create! This is wonderful, a real Sunday treat.

You are now well on your way to having a chapbook.

nAncY said...

i must better read this story
and then come back
and read this again.

i just read...
Gath, from the Hebrew word pronounced gawth, meaning wine press,

katdish said...

I'm so impressed I don't even have anything to say -- which is pretty rare.

nAncY said...

i like how the priests of nob sounds...that ancient city that is no more.

the last line...says so much "...The madman carries a giant’s sword."

while i was at it i learned how to pronounce nob.

Anne Lang Bundy said...

As I read your poetry about David, I am warmed by the perceptions.

And should I have reason to edit my biblical fiction for a publisher, it will be an effort to keep the work my own, and not allow your words to sneak in.