"duels" poems
Night,
dark, soft, alluring,
spinner of dreams I want to be lost in,
is a kindhearted courtesan,
who never demanded anything
for all her loving, that to me
was like a swim in the pool
of "Ananda"* I was searching for.
I climbed her door steps
with the silent footfalls of a cat,
all these years for solace,
when the fair lass ,
regaled by my songs evening after evening,
scoffed and taunted,
when I fell wounded
in duels of life, I was forced to fight
to keep my honor intact.
Once,
seeing me left in the lurch,
blood soaked and badly wounded
she led my tired legs
to her house of magic and secret treasure hunts,
blessed me with oblivion, till I woke up.
Her mansion became
arena of silent dances of wounded memories,
till sun appeared above misty mountains
cheering me up with new promises,
but my thoughts never left her.
I spent my darkest hours
in her house,
thrilled by dreams she induced,
in which under moonbeams
princesses gathered,
bubbling fine wine brimmed
in sparkling glasses,
I felt the most loved man
within her tender arms.
I would wait for the night, my sullied lover,
to arrive with her hands of breeze,
to tousle my hair and caress my face.
Night took away my pains,
her lasciviousness is the only drink,
that makes me ask for more.
She is not only mine,
as a courtesan, she needs to entertain
whoever seeks her,
But when I am with her,
she is all mine.
Apr 10, 2013
Apr 10, 2013 at 11:04 PM UTC
Maybe your mothers and fathers do not know right from wrong
Maybe those that birth you cannot tell real from unreal
The apples do not fall far from the trees that we know all along
So no surprise when off-springs and all fall into the reel
Unable to decipher the lost and damaged from their midst adorn
My mother washed me in truth, honesty, sincerity and real love
That's the only path that graces the soul and makes humanity
So all my life I know what's real, true, honest from all else above
You walk your path and serve your gods in all their profanity
Your festered minds and putrid brains is not like mine thereof
In superficial abodes, your falseness lies fakery has confused you
No truth or honesty exists all around only deceits and raw fear
You rot from the inside and feed from poison not breastmilk too
from start you're ****** your brains from chemicals they rear
Spooks with semblance no substance, serving satan them born fools
I know what's real what's true what's honest and sincere or not
That is me from real bosoms raised in edifying values not falsity
Come in thousands you stink from a mile off satan demons squat
Sincerity truthfulness if erred makes amends not sit discordantly
Real Humanity embraces love and peace not mortal duels that's fact
From negativity you drink in darkness lies your bread and joy
miseries and fears you seek to share cause your souls lies in pain
In cancerous fears you scheme and plot your ****** evils ploys
Cause it destroys you to see goodness whilst your souls' in chain
Weak corrupted dark and damaged subjugated to lucifers noise
Gnarled old wrinkled before your years you envy my young looks
Borne of inner joy and unafraid pious calm pathetics spit zombie
Too sick to know a clear conscience never pines or fears like crooks
Pure and noble emotions caters no dirt or negativities like loonies
Dignity and integrity offers granite to malevolent duds and hooks
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 10:16 AM UTC
I came home late from work today
My wife was hopping mad
She said "we've got to put him somewhere"
"I've had it with your dad"
I asked what was the problem
She said "The second you left home"
"He was out back in the garden"
"Sitting, talking to a gnome"
"I see", I said, that isn't good
"Then the war games in the trees"
"The next time I looked out he was"
"Crawling on his hands and knees'
"I went out to go and get him"
"He threw me down and slapped my ***
He said "you have to get down low dear"
"Or you'll be spotted by the ***
I suggested that we look about
For a nice old country home
He could play his war games in the woods
And I would let him take the gnome
My wife said "Make it happen"
And I heard through the back door
"It better happen quickly"
"Because I can not take much more!"
I called and found a nice spot
Princess Patricia's Old Vets Place
It was cheap and fit our budget
And it sure had lots of space
We went up for a visit
Before we put my dad in there
I mean, if it was not to his liking
Then it would not be quite fair
The head nurse gave us info
About the hours and the fees
And we told her of how Daddy
Liked to play war games in the trees
She said "He's going to love it"
"It sounds like he's a real good sport"
"The vets here have a Navy"
"Out on the tennis court"
"They strap bed pans to their feet"
"And they go skating down the hall"
"Some unhook their catheters"
"And have duels upon the wall"
"They see who shoots the highest"
"Which one can write their name"
"And every time we show a war film"
"It all ends up the same"
"He'll fit right in, no problem"
"I can sign him in today"
My wife just stood and smiled
Pulled out the cheque,with which to pay
Dad, not really caring
Watched the woods for an attack
I don't think that he cared much
If we ever did come back
He's happy at the moment
Giving orders to the gnome
Out deep in the country
At Princess Pat's Old Vets Home
Life is back to normal
All is well for her and me
Although lately I've seen soldiers
Hiding, watching in the trees.....
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 11:32 PM UTC
Cain slew Abel –
Thus began the parade of
Characters whose dynasties
We remember, who decorate
Our memories.
Abraham –
He gave us all the stars
In the sky, a greater lineage
Than the grains of sand
Slapped by seas.
Moses –
The babe in the bulrushes,
The prince turned traitor
Whose whiplashed back
Parted the Red Sea.
Tempus fugit –
Geo Washington, Thos
Jefferson, Alex Hamilton –
Madison, Adams, Franklin –
Minds who created, who
Dreamed, who begat.
How many names we find
In those first tumultuous
Years – warfare and love,
Duels and decadence,
Politics and party.
Scant years later, across
The pond – revolution is
Catching on – les français
Waged a ****** scene,
Ousting the régime.
What would become a
Baby democracy – birthed
More than one new flag
And song – yet lived to
Fight again and bleed.
History is ours to hear –
We respect the honorable,
Honor the drama, revere
The prudent and refight
The battles.
The District of Columbia
Paints a new canvas – she
Sings off key, her promises
Begging for whitewash, her
Patrons vice and folly.
What offspring will such as
These sire? Are they fathers
To found a new nation – to
Garner worldwide pride, or
To slay the abled?
Let the wings of victory
Carry us back to the days
Of greatness – let us exceed
In probity and virtue – let
Freedom succeed again.
© Lewis Bosworth, 3-2017
Mar 23, 2017
Mar 23, 2017 at 11:36 PM UTC
I am so.gritty.now. goodbye this fear of the world,
Gravity hurts in a whispered word.
Take back choice and laugh on through.
Art darts and target hearts
Can sing the blues,
But not like
The gift
Now
Tuned.
Taking lessons in the outer rim
Grounded to the earth
And then,
With a flip I change the pen,
To stir the thought that
Dwell within.
With form drawn to
Bend and twist,
As the fire
A poet's sin.
Dying with random misfortune.
And missery.
Charmed the last time.
Jan 7, 2013
Jan 7, 2013 at 4:15 AM UTC
Acquaintances and ... " Friends " ...
This Nonsense ... NEVER Ends ... !!!!
Who WITHIN ... " Your Crew " ...
Will Be There Til' ... The End ... ???
Who Are Those ...
Who You Can ... " Trust " ... ???
Who Will Make You ...
Want To ... CUSS ... !?! ...
Acquaintances ...
Are Often .............................. Cold .....
While ...
FAKE Friends ...
Will Come and .................................................. Go .....
When They See Your ...
..... ATTITUDE .....
Is ... DIFFERENT To ...
Their ... Simple Views ...
Do You KEEP ...
FOOLS Around You ... ?!?
Just So You ...
Can Have A ... " Crew " ...
of People ... Who ...
DEEP DOWN You ... **** ... !?!
Just To PROVE ...
...... That .....
You're ... " The MAN " ... ?!?
This Stuff I ...
DON'T UNDERSTAND ... !?!?!
They Won't Be There ...
When You Stand ... ON YOUR OWN ...
Or When You HIT ...
A ... TROUBLED Zone ... !!!
REMEMBER What Happened ...
In ... " Revenge of The Sith " ...
When They TURNED ...
They Turned SO QUICK ...
Jedi Died ...
Cos They Got ... HIT ... !!!
Just Like THAT ...
NO MORE ... " Friendship " ...
Friends Will Always ...
RUN Their Lips ...
Til' Your Life ...
Takes That ... " BIG dip " ... !!!!!
When You NEED Them ...
To ............. HELP YOU ..............
They Will ..... Leave You ......
Feeling ......... " BLUE " ......
Take My Advice Folks ...
PLEASE BE ... " Shrewd " ... !!!
In ... WHO You Have ...
Surrounding You ...
Make Sure They ...
RESPECT Your Views ...
... " Acquaintances " ...
Like To ... USE You ... !!!
TRUE Friends HELP ...
When You ... " Feel Blue " ... !!!
These ARE Words ...
You KNOW ... ARE TRUE ... !!!!!!!!!
This Applies ...
To ... FAMILY TOO ... !!!
Some Are NOT ...
TRUE Friends To You ...
DON'T Think Cos' ...
Your Blood Types MATCH ...
That They'll Choose You ...
Before Some ... CASH ... !!!
They'll Make A DASH ...
Just Like The FLASH ... !!!!
Once They've Got ...
Their ... Money Stash ... !!!!
This Is What ...
We've Now ... Come To ... !?!
Friendships Are ...
Simply .... ABUSED ....
People Now ...
DON'T Have A Clue ... ???
What Their ... " Friends " ...
Are Now ... INTO ... ?!?
Coc' or CRACK ... !?!
Or ... White or Black ... ???
Friends WILL STAB YOU ...
In The ... "Back" ... !!! ...
These ARE Words ...
YES Based ... On FACT ... !!!
DRUGS Will Make Some ...
Be Like ... THAT ... !!!!!
Friendship ... " ODDS " ...
Have Now Been ... STACKED ...
Like The ... " Cards " ...
In A ... MARKED PACK ... !!!!!
Maybe You ...
HAVE Got ... GOOD FRIENDS ... !?!
KEEP Them ... "Close" ...
Until ... Your End ...
DON'T DEFEND ...
... " Acquaintances " ...
They WON'T LAST ...
Long ......................... Distances ... !!!!!
They Are ... QUICK ...
To YES ... " Jump Ship " ... !!!
When You ... START ...
To TEAR ... A P A R T ...
Things INSIDE Their ...
.. CALLOUS Heart ... !!!!!!!!
SELFISHNESS ....
and JEALOUSY ....
" Acquaintances " ...
Give THIS For FREE ... !!!!!
This Is Why ...
I ALWAYS .......................................................... FLEE ............. !!!!!
From These ............................
........ " FRAUDS " ........
Who .....
TRY TO ... "SQUEEZE" ... !!!!!
ALL THE ... Goodness ...
OUT OF .... Me .... !?!
These Are ... " THOSE " ...
Once Known As ... CHIEFS ... !!!!!
On These GRIMEY ...
.... London Streets ....
I Hope ... By Now ...
That You Can See ...
Friends AREN'T ALWAYS ...
....... " Trustworthy " ....... !!!
Some Are COOL ...
But Most Are ... FOOLS ...
Who Are ... Simply ...
Human ... GHOULS ... !!!!!!!
This Is NOT ...
How I've Been ... " Schooled " ... !!!!!
I've Been SCHOOLED ...
To .......................................................
Avoid ... " Duels " ...
With These People ...
Who Will ... FUEL ...
....... ANGER .......
DEEP Inside of You ...
People ... THIS ...
Is My ..... Poem .....
About .....
" Acquaintances & Friends "
Aug 31, 2019
Aug 31, 2019 at 8:29 PM UTC
Chase the emerald fairy
Around the Eiffel Tower of France
Shadows swagger an acid dance
Of Hollywood trances and diamond glances
We’ll spout poetry beneath a glamoured moon amour
Drink whiskey and absinthe by the gallons
And wash it down with the finest wine
Grown from sultry ***** countryside
A poet’s star will drive jealousy mad
In famous graveyards of prostitutes and prose
Our night will be spent in gothic debauchery
Eyes once spoke the tale of flesh and lust
Pouting over torrentially voracious desires
Decadence deceived promises
Bewitched with voluptuous tongue
The playwright types at his typewriter
Typing funeral dirges of sitar and violin duels
The contravention of dawn’s chorus
Erupts behind curtains of pantomimes
Charms lost in the end of magnificent performances
Your whispers in my ear are the last I hope to hear
The last beautiful gasp of breath I hope to hear
Will be your whispers in my ear
(*Death sits before his typewriter
pounding keys in a ravenous lunatic frenzy
electing the end to our story
we have no contribution
only dealt the parts we act upon
and our scripts to speak*)
Oct 17, 2011
Oct 17, 2011 at 5:50 PM UTC
The aftershocks
Ripple rash anger consuming my frame.
****** duels with metal swords of rage
That slice innocence in half.
Irrational self-destruction,
Showing signs of weak malfunction.
Boiling blood gurgling through my veins.
How do I dare let such a horror rule my weak blackened hands?
Snarling fangs,
Foaming rabid with distain, puncture my brain.
Ripping pride and ego to bloodied shreds.
Failure, weakness, defeat,
Their sharp clawed feet incessantly transfix me.
Agonizing.
Inflicting purposeful pain,
The need to destroy shall grind me to a pulp.
Evil is ruling a twisted game.
Queen of Hearts.
King of Spades.
Gnawing at my bones, my tendons snap.
Eyes of fire that could torch one’s soul, encase a beastly rage.
I roar,
Thrashing and afraid.
Jan 29, 2014
Jan 29, 2014 at 8:09 PM UTC
I own one eye a known
Wanderer and an insolent
Student
Its twin
Formed from the first’s
Forgotten breath is as
Static and wide as
Our very Pacific
One eye set upon the tropic
The lizard mineral surfacing
To embrace salt laughing
One then upon our Arctic
The axis eternally poised
To blast and bristle
Our iris unbending gravity
Secreted within ridicule
Eye the Equator as She duels
The very patient curator over
Aqua Photo Helio Fuego
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 4:19 PM UTC
Writing poems and songs of the heart
we were confident that love would find a way
but what place to accommodate?
At which place would she stay?
So many words you can say
but words are just words can you feed her stomach?
as a poet you'd fill her soul
but would you be a man to build a home?
She said: talk is cheap, your wallet is airtime,
so many words you speak, but can you put your money where your mouth is or are you weak?
We were poets, crafting words and building worlds
however to the material world it was daydreaming
We had no titles as lovers, neither bf's nor husband's
we created a system of our own
which to the world would be ridiculous
a love note has a posting fee and sending is perilous
We were poets with hat-tricks but scorned as bald men who bewitch.
So much innocence in the beginning and now the deafening chaos with happenings
a poet may swallow his sorrow
but can he eat his words? In a world where money is a god
how soon before he bows...
with no living you're at the bottom of the tower
and conspiracies enlighten you with truths that are sour
wrestled by frustration you'd wish you could teleport to super universes
where being watched by satellites isn't the union's verse
But in the world, the coarse and bitter Earth
how can a poet enliven his words?
Perhaps preach to religion, anoint light sorcery, appoint fair government and breed an awake society.
Reincarnating to further conceal the truth
being a front-runner of the age old galactic duels...
tortured when in honesty you dwell
try to be good and you will swell
Wise and cautious they tell you to go to hell
We were poets, me, myself and I I I I
the crew of I knows it all too well
multiple selves telling stories from different times
the self beyond and the corpse before
before time was time and after time has ended
the scribes golden will live on
I was a poet and I was told I live a lie
We were poets, and we were I.
Oct 12, 2013
Oct 12, 2013 at 7:38 AM UTC
It seems as if the volume (events, objects, actions) of this container (life) continues to expand (time) while the amount of it's contents (meaning) remains fixed - so like a gas it spreads itself to fill the empty areas of that expansive expanding sphere. When once the container was small (childhood) and the thick smog (meaning) hung heavy amongst and within (events, objects, actions) and perforated and perfumed everything with it's grace and energy; now the vapor is spread thinly, diffused between draping canopies of void.
But for short instances, in a frenzied expansion (something new), this gaseous cloud will rush and clump (a loss of reason), ****** as by a vacuum to fill that new-found cavern (my only muse). Here in these moments of freshness (passion consume me) comes energy and heat as molecule duels molecule - how they fight and tangle their tendrils! jostle for space! collide and separate! bind, release!
Then woe and oh (contemptful contentedness)! The awfulness of entropy (a sudden stop). The waves subside and the sea stills. A lake in stagnation - and was it ever a churning roaring ocean (feeling)?
May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 10:55 AM UTC
Whack! Whack!
His mother’s heels click down
On to the hard wood floor
He claims to be Cinderella
His father looks down
And his first emotion is fear
For his young son’s life
It won’t be easy
He bends down
Picks him up and holds him tightly
“My beautiful son,
Be back before midnight”
Whack! Whack!
His bat strikes the baseball
For his first home run in Little League
His heart was never in it
But his father encouraged him
To try new things
And his mother is his biggest fan
He starts to notice
How tight baseball shorts are
They’re not very comfortable
Whack! Whack!
Towels leave bruises in the locker room
He laughs at his teammates
Running from his quick wrist
And wet towel
He’s the starting quarterback
And they just won states
He was voted
Homecoming king
Whack! Whack!
His heart duels against his ribs
The first time he kisses another boy
It’s nothing like the girls
There’s a new rush in his blood
His mind is in space
And his stomach in his throat
Whack! Whack!
He brings the axe down hard
Sunburnt metal splitting fibers
Sending woodchips everywhere
His father making him learn
The lesson that only hard work can teach
Nothing worth having comes easy
Whack! Whack!
The hammer comes down on the nail
As he finishes his daughter’s swing set
He watches through the window
As his husband
Hands her the first slice
Of her birthday cake
She just turned five
A number you didn’t get to see
They say when you die
Your life flashes before your eyes
They don’t say
It’s always your past
Whack! Whack!
His mother’s heels click down
On the hard wood floor
He claims to be Cinderella
His father looks down
And his first emotion is fear…
Whack! Whack!
His fists clench
Whack! Whack!
They come raining down
Whack! Whack!
He can’t seem to get away
Whack! Whack!
Why can’t you be a man
Whack! Whack!
Why can’t you be a man.
Whack! Whack!
Why can’t you be a man!
Why can’t you!?
You were his father!
And you
Were his mother!
You broke a child
When you were supposed
To build him up
So now the world
Had to bury his dreams in pieces
Shattered like glass slippers
You were afraid of him
While we
Would have loved him
His name was Zachary.
Zachary Dutro-Boggess.
I wrote your name
Onto a piece of paper
And folded it into a daisy
Because something beautiful
Had to come out of your story
Your birthday curled down
Over one of the petals
3 days before the day you died
You turned 4 years old
I wonder what you wished for
When you blew out your candles
I wonder what you wished for
When you first met God
Way too young
And he showed you
What love really was
Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 4:31 PM UTC
It is morning. I glance up at the sky
I nod to her, acknowledging that she
knows the weather better than I
Our duels are unforgiving
She is graceful in her delivery
And I am left shoveling up the remains
Her coldness no match for my warmth,
my skilled hand. I create a path, boots
Weighted against the latticed snow
I remind her that though she has
a power to wield, I have my own
Perseverance.
Jan 14, 2017
Jan 14, 2017 at 9:23 PM UTC
Some went West
and others went East.
The ones in between
found they liked South the least.
The traitorous winds
carried news from the mouth
of a stranger who wandered
the dreaded South.
They said:
"Glory and war in the West.
Peace and sacrifice in the East.
The North holds freedoms and complex rules.
The South has no time for such duels."
Those of the West,
those of the East,
and the Northern inbetweeners
listened with incredulity.
But the Southerner just repeats:
"Glory and war in the West.
Peace and sacrifice in the East.
The North holds freedoms and complex rules.
The South has no time for such duels."
"If we fight not for glory,
then why fight at all?
War is a necessary evil!"
Those Westerners say, how uncivil.
"Peace cannot yield
without sacrifice.
Someone always has to lose their life!"
Easterners cry full of strife.
"Freedoms are protected
if you follow the rules.
Speech must be regulated, calm, and cool."
Said from those under Northern rule.
But the Southerner repeats like a record loop:
"Glory and war in the West.
Peace and sacrifice in the East.
The North holds freedoms and complex rules.
The South has no time for such duels."
Then the wind finally stopped
spreading its message.
But the lofty seeds that traveled with the wind,
planted themselves in places they've never been.
And they started to grow into something more.
Freedoms and rules.
Peace and sacrifice.
Glory and War.
May 19, 2018
May 19, 2018 at 11:39 PM UTC
Through the alcoholic breath
I stumble across my words
I speak tales of life and death
Regard duels of guns and swords
Mumbling about honor and grace
While I can barely easy my pace
I’m walking in circles, once again
Inside the bottle, eased my pain
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 8:01 PM UTC
Beware of the man
with the sharpened wit
He be a swordsmen in disguise
Using the air in his lungs
he duels with his tongue
splitting damnable truths
between lies
Jun 21, 2023
Jun 21, 2023 at 3:24 PM UTC
You're the kind of girl mum should have warned me about
the kind that creeps slowly under skin
the kind that trips fuses in unsuspecting hearts
just by walking past with your warrior stride.
The kind of girl that takes you to the back of a gig
and drowns out the noise with her eyes
as kisses end with a bitten lip and a come get it half smile.
Your face is a lie of innocence
it hides a wildfire spirit
of which Daddy would never approve
his little girl, now a pastime of pleasure,
honoured saintess of the tease
masterfully turning screws
with nimble fingers
before laughing at desire.
Expert level players
fight pointless duels in your name
placing bids to win moments
eyeing the neck of the bottle you swig
while gageing the circumference of your rosy mouth.
I watch them rise at your stare
blood and hope rushing as one
ridiculous in their optimistic dash
to no release.
You're the kind of girl mum should have warned me about
the kind that fashions hope from empty wanting
the kind that views hearts with disdain
the kind I'll fall in love with
again and again.
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 3:32 AM UTC
That which shines out in today's eyes
That which reflects the morrow's skies.
So it shall be,
So it shall be.
That which enters the mind's pool,
That which centers the mind's rule.
So it shall see,
So it shall see.
That which flies the widow's heart
That which dies with the beggar's cart
So it shall believe,
So it shall believe.
That which rules the Machiavellian Prince
That which duels the time since.
So it shall feel
So it shall feel.
That which entertains the simple man,
That which rains on the full dam.
So it shall kneel,
So it shall kneel.
That which becomes the setting sun,
That which sums the dying nun.
So it shall seal,
oh...
So it shall seal.
Apr 17, 2011
Apr 17, 2011 at 10:29 PM UTC
mumbles, rumbles, grumbles & groans
*permeate the bedroom still,
woman tosses, turns and exclaims
mumbles, groans, all twisted into
a single minutes-long rumbling*
*torn I am, let it pass, or stroke the hair,
caress the shoulder, or risk awakening her
to continue her alert discontent, or salve her,
thereby saving her from herself, for me, us*
*do you know forever?
do you know perpetuity!
this diurnal/nocturnal border line battling
dilemma, comes early morn, ever faithfully*
and I dreading her dreaming:
court the new day’s chance-ry,^
plead my case, make new laws to protect
the infants, lunatics and the restless
and those would be their Knight Errant Protectors!
<>
^ The Court of Chancery was a court of equity in England and Wales that followed a set of loose rules to avoid a slow pace of change and possible harshness (or "inequity") of the common law. The Chancery had jurisdiction over all matters of equity, including trusts, land law, the estates of lunatics and the guardianship of infants.
A knight-errant is a figure of medieval chivalric romance literature. The adjective errant (meaning "wandering, roving") indicates how the knight-errant would wander the land in search of adventures to prove his chivalric virtues, either in knightly duels (pas d'armes) or in some other pursuit of courtly love.
Jun 4, 2023
Jun 4, 2023 at 7:23 AM UTC
have mostly passed,
pressed into the pages
of history books, but how
they linger in memory!
two men, reputations
mutually compromises,
meet to prove their valor
on the feild of honor.
with great ceremony,
their seconds present
the pistols, oiled and gleaming
deadliness in the wavering light.
the rivals take their places
and, beloved guns in hand,
they stand back-to-back,
gathering courage.
eight paces in opposite
directions, at the signal, turn,
take aim, praying it’s straight,
that your sight remains plumb.
Fire.
Apr 2, 2019
Apr 2, 2019 at 10:05 PM UTC
Hal drew his sword from it’s long sheath
and faced his nemesis on this dark heath
and fought for life and fought till death
his enemy taking his last foul breath.
Long times this family feud had raged
and in its wake young men had aged
for now the devil would breathe no more
till others rose to settle the score.
Returned he then to his peaceful life
sharing in joy with his new young wife
and she did bear him fine young sons
he hoped his violent past was gone.
But the devil will often find ways back
and thus with time came a new attack
so Hal’s son drew his father’s sword
this ancient duel his family reward.
The feud had lasted for ere so long
kinsfolk recalled it oft in song
of troubles over betrayals done
and deathly duels betwixt each first son.
And then one day Hal’s nemesis fell
and hurt them-self as he could tell
he lowered his sword and approached his foe
removing helmet let long hair flow.
This time it seemed there was no heir
but duty fell to the eldest there
and so the woman had taken up sword
for she too felt her kin’s reward.
But Hal had fallen deep in love
so swore that he’d not raise a glove
and she too felt her heart was won
the betrayal forgotten they were as one.
©Joe Wilson – A son’s tale…
This was just a story set in medieval England
where unimaginatively all first sons are called Hal.
I’ve tried to write it in that kind of style.
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 5:29 AM UTC
Holding your head up high,
Arrogance is ready to fight.
Challenging an enemy with honor,
Determined to win a pointless battle.
A proud stance duels until the end,
As egotism leads to a lost cause.
Poison of vanity leads to catastrophe,
When defeat possesses many dilemmas.
The negative pride must be put aside,
By letting the ego accept humility.
Aug 19, 2016
Aug 19, 2016 at 12:07 PM UTC