Tilting at Windmills

by tfawcus

How wildly wind-shanked windows rattle,
the terror of the banshee battle,
the storm surge seeps through weeping cracks,
to tear apart established facts.

But encased in faith’s dull armour,
blood-crusted in pursuit of right,
this old crusader, resurrected,
stands ready, resolute to fight.

Once more unto the battledore,
to loft his shuttlecock of shame,
but how the howling gale is blowing
through his wormwood weakened frame.

Since his armour’s rather rusted,
ancient rites no longer trusted,
he is tempted by the devil
to genuflect, and then skedaddle.

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Faith Poetry Contest contest entry

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Any resemblance in this poem to the epic adventures of Don Quixote is purely incidental!

Battledore and shuttlecock was the forerunner to our modern game of badminton. The shuttlecock is constructed of white feathers bound around a piece of cork.

Wormwood or artemesia is a key ingredient of absinthe.

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tfawcus has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.

When faith runs out

Tilting at Windmills

by tfawcus

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