The horse stood healthy proud and tall
unaware of the journey ahead.
Roughly being pulled from her stall
on unstable ground to tread.
World war one would soon start
many families to be torn apart.

All over the horses were being bought
to be shipped to the impending war.
Fine strong animals the army sought
ever needing more and more.
This was a big event in this tiny village
to them it was official pillage.

In the crowd stood a lad brooding
the horse given to him as a gift.
Now he had to watch his eyes protruding
the auctioneer's hammer began to lift.
Within seconds quickly with a bang it fell
bitterly knowing he had to sell!

The army took charge of his eminent steed
not even allowed to say goodbye.
When they left his horse took the lead
he was not going to cry.
Ridden by a soldier almost his age
feeling the rising despair and rage!

The horses and men moved in slow motion
his heart sank what could he do?
Villagers to recruited with no notion
of where they were going to.
Determined to follow and bring her back
foolish but courage he didn't lack!

Weeks later at night Daniel crept out
his love for his horse so strong.
A perilous journey but for him no doubt
he could not see it was wrong.
Anaba his friend meaning return from war
this he would do on her back once more.

Yet unsure if he would return his tale to tell!

The Foureyed Poet.

As I sat on that high ridge to take a rest
during a lull in the fighting.
I had a front seat on a bleak image
thousands were dead.
Huge mushroom clouds were rising
how I was alive surprising!

Another bright blast hit the valley
then another flash!
Down the hill with a mighty force
injured facing the angry sky
Shocked at what I had seen and heard
in the news no hint no word!

No warning of a nuclear strike
rumbles of descent heard.
Conflict was just every day news
nations wanting to be free.
Sinister groups each rebel state
certainly wouldn't hesitate.

Struggling to stand moving forward
visibility down to a few feet.
Dim lights appeared just ahead.
it was a vehicle from my unit.
Safely picked up returned to base
seeking news of the human race!

Finding out it had been limited
to only a few countries.
The world would suffer for this deed
the destruction of life.
Nothing could be the same again
an act pointless and insane!

Since the mushroom clouds first came
everybody felt they were to blame.
Every nation had no choice but to unite
no more determination to fight!

Survival can only be achieved by working together!

The Foureyed Poet

It's easy to imagine your not alone
in an empty silent room.
Sitting still in a camp chair waiting
for any sounds or movement.
Next calling out is anybody there
risking giving yourself a scare.

Often in the darkness with a torch
as you feel that coldness.
Was that somebody touching your hair
sounds to can easily deceive.
Giving our imaginations plenty to digest
seeking ghosts their time to invest.

Spending hours in different locations
there are those who don't believe.
Others who do looking to seek out more
many methods and beliefs mingle.
As they each explore this unknown field
hoping to find that elusive yield.

Nobody is certain what is real or not
theories abound on life after death.
Famous people said they would return
leaving behind a secret code.
Those holding this are aging and waiting
with all the psychics still debating.

True or false do spirits really exist
if we knew it would stop the hunt.
Maybe somebody does and won't say
is it when we're dead we're dead!
Mediums are tricksters putting on an act
can this really be the fact?

Is this an elaborate myth as many think
or will it turn out to be true? I wonder!

The Foureyed Poet.

Somebody reminded me of the house
so picturesque serene on it's own.
Twisting narrow single track lanes
made the visits such a pleasure.
Where sounds and vision were unique
somewhere many would like to seek.

Isolation was what my family wanted
not blocked in by endless buildings.
Transport was walking or a horse and cart
a lot can change through the decades.
The once small town then started to grow
at first the expansion was slow.

Actually the house still stands today
regrettably not in that lonely plot.
Houses and trading estates now border
forever only a special memory.
Realizing the countryside has vanished
where green fields are banished.

Progress is not always the best way forward!

The Foureyed Poet.

The red light shone brightly stopping me
frustration more road works.
Blocked yet another stretch of road
the last stop only a mile back.
Engine overheating as I sat yet again
wishing now I'd taken the train.

The light never seemed to change to green
saw two workers standing still.
Traffic building up for miles behind
now late for my destination.
Feeling claustrophobic within a confined space
if only we'd move at any pace.

Where does the funds go for these repairs
not on the roads that's for sure.
Big holes left often with nobody near them
counting these now instead of sheep.
At last the traffic is moving along once more
foot down on the accelerator.

Oh no another sign road works ahead!

The Foureyed Poet.

Her scarred wrist is what I noticed first
looking so petrified and frail.
Going in because I had a real thirst
with a complexion so pale.
On impulse went up to her and spoke
not wanting to provoke.

Timid I thought she cowered at my voice
moving back very shaken.
Feeling in this busy place I had no choice
was my attraction mistaken?
Turning to leave on my arm a cold touch
wanting to say so much.

A brightness came into her mood
as we talked a little more.
From then on I had no time to brood
being the start of the gore.
Shocked to find this was a vampires lair
my friends to were unaware.

Why I had no fear of her I'll never know
there was a connection.
The other vampires drained my mates very slowly
in my arm I felt an injection.
It was her fangs but she drank a short measure
to revive and for pleasure.

Taking my hand pulling with a firm grip
we quickly left that nightmare.
I felt as if I was on a psychedelic drug trip
what happened I didn't care.
Telling me the reason our blood had mixed
looking at her I was transfixed.

Stunning now in my eye sight so beautiful
out in the daylight.
She went to kiss me I bowed to her rule
this time I felt a bite!
Next memory waking in a hospital bed
hard to believe I wasn't dead!

I had lost a lot of blood I was told
but I would be well.
Yet knowing inside I would not get old
this I could not tell.
Sensing nearby my love was waiting
of this there was no debating!

Quietly leaving she was outside
my thirst had returned.
Hand in hand I walked with pride
now it was blood I yearned!

The Foureyed Poet.

A car passed at speed the middle aged driver
unhappy at the narrow miss.
He shouted out in an abusive manner
not realizing the window was open.
The four youths looked at each other
saying ' he'll regret that brother'.

The man did realize something was wrong
as the car sped away he saw them turn.
What had he done who were these guys
seeing their car he took another route.
But they were soon  coming up behind
entering a road that was tree lined.

Busy traffic swerving to avoid being hit
their car smashed into his rear.
Then their powerful motor side swiped him
hitting the now total wreck.
His seat belt protecting his very life
as one came at him with a knife.

Trapped he could not move an inch
sound of sirens could be heard.
Yet the youth lunged in the open window
slashing his already broken arm.
Terrified he shouted out loudly again
now in so much pain!

Somehow getting back in their car
into nowhere they went.
As help arrived on the once quiet road
residence coming out in force.
The case months on not yet solved
nobody wanted to get involved!

The youths are still out there somewhere!

The Foureyed Poet.