stdClass Object
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    [ID] => 16693
    [post_author] => 16
    [post_date] => 2016-03-08 13:31:21
    [post_date_gmt] => 2016-03-08 13:31:21
    [post_content] => I am drunk on blood and bones.
Northern France, the honest mud
Printed with confusion in
fields of cold October. My
quagmire only sees conflict.

For earth, it is laughable
To consider being owned.
My age understands the tears-
Warfare is my language, but
Allegiances bore me now.

Arrows are always sweetest
Cracking through scarred, soldiered flesh
With the smooth skill of frostbite.
Remembered wounds. Outnumbered
Armies are the best to watch.

This one I like the most now.
Out of it all- so far. Though
It is never honourable:
Fought with cracked hands, battered boots
Dirt never expects manners.

They will all remember this.
If I could reach out beyond
The dark trappings of your feet,
I would speak- to tell you that:
“Agincourt will be sewn in

songs, wrapped in words, and recalled
As a bowman’s victory.”
    [post_title] => Land Speaks at Agincourt
    [post_excerpt] => 
    [post_status] => publish
    [comment_status] => closed
    [ping_status] => closed
    [post_password] => 
    [post_name] => land-speaks-at-agincourt
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    [pinged] => 
    [post_modified] => 2018-10-10 16:15:43
    [post_modified_gmt] => 2018-10-10 16:15:43
    [post_content_filtered] => 
    [post_parent] => 0
    [guid] => http://poems.poetrysociety.org.uk/?post_type=poems&p=16693
    [menu_order] => 0
    [post_type] => poems
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    [meta_data] => stdClass Object
        (
            [wpcf-published-in] => 
            [wpcf-date-published] => 2016
            [wpcf-summary-description] => This poem was commended in the secondary category in the Agincourt 600 Poetry Competition on Young Poets Network (YPN) in 2016.
            [wpcf-rights-information] => 
            [wpcf-poem-award] => Commended (secondary category), Agincourt 600 Poetry Competition
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    [poet_data] => stdClass Object
        (
            [ID] => 16682
            [forename] => 
            [surname] => 
            [title] => Matilda Houston-Brown
            [slug] => matilda-houston-brown
            [content] => Matilda is a first-prize winner in the Wish List challenge on Young Poets Network and runner-up in the Namedropping challenge with People Need Nature and Jen Hadfield. She is also a commended poet in the secondary category of the Agincourt 600 Poetry Competition, and commended in the Timothy Corsellis Poetry Prize 2018 on Young Poets Network.
        )

)
stdClass Object
(
    [ID] => 16682
    [forename] => 
    [surname] => 
    [title] => Matilda Houston-Brown
    [slug] => matilda-houston-brown
    [content] => Matilda is a first-prize winner in the Wish List challenge on Young Poets Network and runner-up in the Namedropping challenge with People Need Nature and Jen Hadfield. She is also a commended poet in the secondary category of the Agincourt 600 Poetry Competition, and commended in the Timothy Corsellis Poetry Prize 2018 on Young Poets Network.
)

Land Speaks at Agincourt

Matilda Houston-Brown

I am drunk on blood and bones.
Northern France, the honest mud
Printed with confusion in
fields of cold October. My
quagmire only sees conflict.

For earth, it is laughable
To consider being owned.
My age understands the tears-
Warfare is my language, but
Allegiances bore me now.

Arrows are always sweetest
Cracking through scarred, soldiered flesh
With the smooth skill of frostbite.
Remembered wounds. Outnumbered
Armies are the best to watch.

This one I like the most now.
Out of it all- so far. Though
It is never honourable:
Fought with cracked hands, battered boots
Dirt never expects manners.

They will all remember this.
If I could reach out beyond
The dark trappings of your feet,
I would speak- to tell you that:
“Agincourt will be sewn in

songs, wrapped in words, and recalled
As a bowman’s victory.”