The Dusty Road


The noble man, in filthy velvet vest
At trot and trot, a gallop, gallop quick,
With knee-high boots of softened doe, he wrests
His noble steed, through dusty trails and thick
Of wind, a torrent strong that sweeps and kicks.
The sun, a blazing ship on orange seas,
That casts a sheen on roads as seconds tick,
In lacy shirt, the rider rides through eve
As April's sultry heat and hazy breezes tease.

From neither holy angels nor the hells
Beneath the seas, a glass of water cold
For parched tongue and raspy thirst to quell;
It huffs and puffs, the stallion’s whines, and scolds
And halts. "No trot, without some water cold"
It rasps. No sugar cubes, no bag of groats
Will further tempt the horse from rightful toll;
He gets on foot to amble slow on boots,
A dingy town—an inn to rest and clean his coat.

The Road, a purple ribbon dark in dusk,
And off he sets, his weary foot in town,
His eyes a-twinkle, voice a honeyed husk,
Upon the inn, like jewel shooting down
To last of wooden, sticky chairs around,
Like butterfly, a ***** then flutters close,
And O! how beautiful, like seraph's crown,
Her glossy lips like rose in dewy throes,  
Her limpid gaze, a hazel brown, and skin like snow.

With dulcet voice a patient, languid tune,
"Aye, water, brandy, wine or moonshine cold?"
And mesmerizes him into senseless loon,
"My! anything my lady, something bold!"
While tracing thumb against the grain, he drolled,
She twitches behind, her waist a slender eight,
And whispers "Hush those wicked thoughts you hold
For Pa's a surly grump, like scalded cat"
"Dear lady, let me taste thy sighs, as heart elate."

She blushes red, like devil's brimstone spawn
And twists her long and fiery, raven braid,
And bites her lips like apples kissed in dawn,
"Oye Mary! quick o quick, we work a trade!"
She rushes inside, her gaze dismayed,
Like mountain spring, she lies for safety fast,
And brings a moonshine cold, and parchment frayed
"O, I will visit, if thy wish be cast
And trade away my maiden blood tonight at last."

Oh Angela, the careful Angela,
She sits and sews but notices them hide,
Oh, Angela the sweetly Angela,
"Oye Mary! quick o quick, we run a trade!"
To sweetest Mary loud, her gaze dismayed,
"Ah grandma, I do ask of travels bold—"
"Be silent dear, my eyes ain't gone a whit"
"But—" "Listen child or I shall whack your head"
"That boy does know of sweat, Ah, go my silly mads!"

"Ah, go and find a bed for silly boy"
Oh Mary's heart a thud, her eyes so wide,
"And here, some poppy draught in moonshine 'joy"
"Ah grandma....what ....but I.......haven't lied?"
Her grandma arched brows her high, "Not lied?
But I have known of passion, girls, and men"
And took a longer sip from flask and sighed
She took a parchment frayed—"so words him pen
But forget not to claim his heart in trade, amen."

So, Mary huffs and cuffs, and walks around,
Around and round and round in circles small,
"Ah, what to write?" like coil so tightly wound,
With questions big and small, for time she stalls,
"Oh sit! Be still! And I will write it all"
So comes the grumpy, gleaming, bright rescue
Which, Mary read and hotly stood appall,
And Mary spoke "You wicked lady, bless you!
Grandma mince your words a bit! I have a nephew!"

The man then eats a meat-pie piping hot,
He'd rode across and over highwaymen,
Upon the sweltry road at fierce a trot,
And dusty town and dingy tavern when
He met a butterfly beyond a ken.
He strolls beneath a lowly arched way,
Beneath the wooden beams that smell of hen
And drunks and dust and age, in room to lay,
Till tonight's midnight bell, and waited—long await

She comes as sworn like moonshine silent, soft,
And CLICK, the door unfurls like thunder strike,
In moonlit room a spectre pale, aloft,
"Ha, Pa'd a mug of moonshine poppy-spiked!"
She closed the door, she panted all alike,
A smile of mischief, proper goblin kind,
And pining stars with eyes, her balmy side,
Beneath the summer night the lovers twined,
From opal hells and heavens, all else they were blind.

Upon the gusts, and over casement wide,
Sonorous, loud her cries upon so rang,
And radiant her cries so sang like tide
Her skin so soft in sweat that tastes of tang,
Her pounding heart, a drum of fervent song
A thunder storm erupts upon the bed
She's marked beneath her roof by playful fang
"My darling Mary, down this path we head
Oh Mary, sweetest Mary! None shall bring thee dread"

Till dawn, the ostler heard this lovely song,
No hay upon his head would keep it far,
And on and on it went unbroken long,
His sleep was lost, disturbed by all that roar
Of sweetly Mary's scandalous so more,
The grumpy sleepless ostler fed no oats,
The one who made her rise and sigh like shore
And so the horse in hunger, stomped and groaned,
While lovers strong were lost and still so unashamed.

He rose with dawning sun, his body sore,
His chiselled chest in sweat so drenched wet,
He kissed the writhing sheets, she blinked and purred,
"Oh dear, you ride away, how not to fret?"
With ruby flourish, glowing crimson wet
He put upon her beating heart, at breast,
"A forest witch's this artifact beset
A part of mine so I have left thee chest
For I have wars to fight, await my 'turn dearest"

The man when slipping into shoes he thought,
This place was good to settle home and hearth,
To war unknown with fierce their battle hosts,
He had changed so much from night thenceforth,
No longer setting fire to skies and earth,
But once more reach her flaming heart alive,
For longest year and one he battled forth,
Where wounds he took did dim the ruby nigh,
But each of lovely dream that night’s, it brighter shined.

So, Mary waited long, for year and one,
The filthy road, that brought her shining knight
Through sultry noons and wintry moons and suns,
The Road, an orange banner bright in light,
The Road, an onyx ribbon dark in night,
For trot and neigh of stallion and whine,
In autumn morns and vernal dusks like sprite,
Awaiting laugh, for crimson ruby's shine,
Her dearest love's return would be their final twine

The ancient bardess strummed her wooden lute,
"So? Granny please, do continue the tale."
"The tale is done, so run along my newts."
And just then, tavern's kitchen called from veil,
"Oh dearest, please do get some salted kale"
The groaning bardess slowly popped her back
With ruby bright and softened boots of doe,
The cracked and softened boots of doe in deck,
The ancient man in kitchen asked, "Our story back?"

To know this story, you must know this place,
Of merry hills and fort and sandy wars
And men and children grown in war's embrace,
The vow that's sworn away from death's own doors.
 
In winter chill, on top of mighty hill,
There stood a fort in merry joy and woe,
With drowsy moonshine dreams of household full,
Unbidden zephyr gallops wild like doe.
 
In rocky vales of winter darkling skies,
Where divine angels dwell in olden oaks,
And dulcet scent of dampen mound disguise,
The salty, sadden sweat of gallant folks.
 
The ancient granite fort with arrow slits,
A blackwood drawbridge, over pond of death,
That hangs on iron chains above the pit.
With sentry guards in pair and swords in sheath.
 
On eaves ornate, the sparrows chirp and roast,
A secret promise whispered close to nest,
The chandeliers burn with merry boast,
And castle bustling whole, without a rest.
 
With mane of crimson hair like autumn leaves
Her eyes so green like forest canopy,
The skin, a bit of cypress brown, tea-leaves,
Her voice like ocean singing symphony.
 
Like draught of vintage buried cellar deep,
In lives the damsel beauty—Mary, bright,
Beloved and father war in ****** keep,
For either death would cast a shadow wide.
 
And down the rocky hill, and fort ornate,
Beneath the waning moon, in savage lands,
Where deer and tiger, fox and wolf await,
In seas beyond, a battle fought in sands.
 
Along the winding path to castle-fort,
Where cobblestones bear moss and bramble thorn,
And cracked by sedge from bygone summer's lot,
A knight-in-arms, an anguish pilgrim lone.
 
By scarlet hawthorn berries, bare on branch,
Through cawing haunts of crows on winter night,
His quiet breath in crescent moonlight, staunch,
A requiem for souls in silent light.
 
As owls so hoot and croon and huddle close,
The knight, in ****** armor ambles forth,
Beneath his heavy foot a flower goes,
Exhaustion trembles set in arms thenceforth.
 
His heart, a writhing throe like Christ in woe,
As winter’s lash cuts deep in frozen flow,
The haggard knight in sorrow bowed so low,
And feels the icy hail upon his face.
 
The crimson plume on helm is wet in rain,
And drips its scarlet shade in flowing rills,
Its scarlet bleeding down in winding pain,
By dripping blood to lie and rest on hills.
 
Yet onward still he treads, though burdened sore,
For heavy debt on heart like python coil,
Through storm and steel, through blood and ocean’s roar,
"How long can blood endure such weary toil?"
 
The heavens blaze alight in argent strikes,
The man wishing silver barbs to escape,
Atop the castle high, his love awaits,
Awaits her knight and father's sound escape.
 
He broods and broods on how to tell her why,
Of father's death, of arrow meant for me,
His mood weighed down like overcastened skies
Of sorrow, guilt and pain in final sigh.
 
To walls and towers girdle fort around;
With gardens blooming full of supple rills,
As rose and winter lily buds surround,
By forests many old as craggy hills.
 
His footsteps worth and measureless to man,
The rosary, a gift that burns his vest,
The joy to see his Mary stings like cane,
His tears in rain to hide, he tries his best.
 
"If fate were honest, I would lie in dust,
Her father climbing up with steady breath.
But fickle fates as always lay unjust,
And stole the steel away, along with death.
 
What words suffice? What solace can I give?
Her father’s blood still stains my hands and skin.
To bring her beads, yet lack the man who lived—
A gift so light, a loss so deep within."
 
The beads that weigh more than his iron shield,
He stumbles over mud and road in pain,
And nears the fortress, iron gates in sight,
As sentry hails the knight, away from rain.
 
Through casement high and triple arched ways,
With corners filled with cobwebs, dusty old,
The latticed rooms that's chill like silent caves,
While walls adorned with banners, stubborn mold.
 
She rushes forth, a shriek of joy released,
Like flower's ecstasy her eyes alight
But halts—his eyes, cast low, his lips now sealed,
And weeps with anguish soft, a broken sight.
 
"How could you vanish, leaving me adrift,
On far-off shores where worthless battle calls?
If not beside me where our vows would shift,
Then in the earth—at home—your body falls.
 
My heart aches, not yet numb in drowsy pain
My sense, as nightshade, hemlock I did drink,
Should empty opiates to dull the drain,
Of memories that Lethe-wards do sink?
 
Five summers passed, their golden warmth now fled,
Your voice and words to bring the warmth of hearth
The sixth arrives—yet where has laughter sped?
Like waters, gurgle soft from mountain-earth?"
 
"My Mary, my love, don't you waste away,
For I did bring much more than death in sum,
Through seas and storm, the deadly men and fray,
Oh, I did bring a final breath a hum."
 
And saying so, the knight on ground he kneeled,
Unclasped his breastplate, and dug out from vest,
The prayer beads from father's hands he peeled,
His blessings, warm and still, his tethered light.
 
"His Mary’s hands must hold what he did last,
So spoke the gallant man, with final breath,"
With broken voice, the knight then spoke aghast,
"He took the arrow meant to pierce my breast"
 
Then Mary clutches beads in hands her tight,
A silent memory of love now lost.
Upon her lips, a vow to set aright,
The woes of fathers bound as sandy ghosts.