Many Nights of Turmoil

Just a long poem I wrote from being deprived of sleep for 3 days straight a few years back about a knight, a dragon's curse, and a tragic incident of separation in love; death

May the wind bring us news:
Our days have come to end.
May the autumn's breeze be new,
The journey continues, my friend.
Through treacherous paths
I may have died,
But only to hear you laugh
Perhaps I would not have cried.
Until then I'll listen,
I'll listen for the sunshine's murmur
That'll smite the nightmares I've dread
And perhaps sing me a song that once was dead.
Perhaps I'll fly through Winter's reign,
And I'll sing her a sweet melody
In joy and sorrow as it will rain,
But I needn't worry, for Sun shall spring
In joy and sorrow as it will rain.



May many nights of turmoil end?
Perhaps not...
I'm not God, my friend.




Alas! Alas! My days of turmoil haven't end!
So I'll sleep with the nymphs down yonder,
The ones who can pretend,
And may be I'll get a lucky wish
To smite down my foe?
Alas! Alas! Alas!
Who grieves me? Who woes?




My Lady, my Lady
Your fair beauty I cannot bare.
Will you grant me a kiss?
I promise I shall not stare!
Your lips are full and rounded,
I wish to kiss thee.
Your eyes have sent my heart pounding,
What spell have you put over me?
Your scarlet hair ablaze,
Reminding me of fire.
The sun will be amazed
To see such an admirer.




An admirable flame
I've left to dance upon my foe.
So wild and untamed,
This flame did not woe.
Nor did it concentrate
On the matters of love;
This flame that I've incinerate
When striking the wooden dove.
The dove made from forest wood,
Its comfort to the flame I saw,
And now I think I understood,
As I stood and gazed in awe.




When fire eats fire
The Dragon will die,
As ashes to ashes,
The Beast had cried:
"Endless nights of turmoil
Bathed in misfortunes,
As my body lays in wasted soil:
Align in perfect proportion.
So may I rest unlamented
And torn from this ungrateful life.
Allow my curse to be permitted
And send my foe to a world of strife!"


These incantations that sprout great powers
And stir the Mystic's meditation
Have caused the crimson petals of flowers
To shower the Dragon's cremation.
With His last breath, the Dragon spoke his last;
For He was incinerating fast:
"With little flames igniting my body at rest,
They dance upon like fire nymphs with flaming wings.
With their fiery embrace, I prepare for the best!
The little flames around me shall free me when they sing."



May many nights of turmoil end?
Perhaps not...
I'm not God, my friend.




So I shall sleep when the golden harp is made,
For a melody that slowly began to fade;
It still yet maintains a power that I must seek
By playing the melody of Inferno's Peak.




May the wind bring what is rightfully mine,
Shall I wait here now with the Lord of the Divine?
Or shall I weep while the other angels pray?
Perhaps if I try to pretend, they'll let me stay.




What say the moon that did not respond
To the lone gray wolf who bayed till dawn?
Shall his prayers go unsaid and destroy their bond?
The moon and wolf will not be friends for long.



As the shy and calm winter passes overnight,
The silhouettes of warriors strode on out of sight.
With little whispers cooing through the leaves
And made them feel restless and untamed
Had now silenced the shadows of the trees,
Threatening to put them aflame.



As fire kisses my Lady's corpse,
I say farewell.
With no regret and no remorse
For the beautiful flames that danced upon my Lady's figure,
For she was in a better place, her soul did not linger.
Though maybe I do regret,
The sin I have commit,
For hanging from the great oak tree where rope and neck had met.
So maybe this wasn't the way to reunion with my Lady,
But I shall try again and again!
For the Dead can die twice.
So long as they can depend
Upon the Devil's dice.

Author's Note

I've appreciate the people who've sent messages suggesting to "polish" this piece, but I must insist on explaining that this poem was written out of whim from sleep deprivation that ailed me for three days and three nights. In other words, there's nothing to fix because I wasn't writing a traditional poem, I was just....well...writing.

I'm aware that there's a lot of errors and some stanzas that could be omitted, but that wasn't the point of writing this poem at all.

I just simply wanted to share what happened when I didn't get enough of sleep :]

Reviews

[MoriartyMesa]

MAKE THIS A MONOLOG, this is one of those pieces that not only should be for the stage, but would take a good deal of time to find the right reader. It sparks of many different thoughts but has a real sort of Shakespeare style to it that would make a marvelous stage piece.

[L0v3craft]

Thank you very much for the review!

Indeed, I like the monologue idea much better and have changed it to that in the genre section. It makes more sense as a piece then :]]

I never would've imagined someone saying this on stage, but the thought is rather lovely and it flatters me someone on here would suggest that, so thank you again for the kind words!

[Cassandra]

I think your sleep deprivation led to a very vivid, very creative poem that read like a story with rhythm. In some stanzas I feel the scheme is broken a little and the flow could be tinkered with ..but just the same I think it was a nice ballad of a piece.

[Kimberly R. Larkins]

Dark and insightful. 'Nuff said.

[the eyeball kid]

Excentlent my friend excenlent