stride

a tale of a walk

 

 

 

 

 

we didn't seek that heinous thing--

we'd heard what verse Man laid to string.

its victims; how it came to be...

 

-we traveled that road anxiously:

our eyes, a'scour. -hours in,

no word had crossed one bank of teeth.

we reeked of fear--our soured skin

was wetter than our throats could get--

i heard no bird, and arming sweat

made armour fret (its metals chimed).

soft as it was, it razed my mind.

at times, we neither raised our feet

nor breathed: we'd pause, and pray the beast

had prey to eat this day--indeed!--

 

--Eternity, those silent waits.

the weight of worlds; a wilding place.

 

...and then, we'd set that violent pace--

the one reserved for crazes keen--

the one which churns the earth and moss--

one's boots uproot some lichen's lace--

one's blood goes rushing; hardens softs

and quickens slows--a charge across

some slickened slope--subversive coughs;

a tainted glee, its purpose lost--

a lane of leaves--they sang beneath,

which gave us reason to claim Reason...

 

slow ourselves. -eyes large, our walks

a tight-wound set; our shame, a treason.

 

(for those dashes held the crown

of Truth, and could not put it down.)

 

 

onward we pressed, our chests in knots

like hangmen's tools. -our quest, forgot'.

 

that hidden beast! its legends long!

what shadows cast! -forsook your town,

my heart extolled, and now your lot

will mayhap be some minstrel's song...

 

 

 

 

....and then:

                   the psalm of distant throngs.

-we dared not speak, and play it wrong--

increased our speed, our gazes strong

between the trees--the twilight gong--

 

my focus shrank, in truth, and i

will stand by this until i die:

 

i never heard the monster's stride.

 

i crossed that township's common line

without a glance to either side...

and thus, discovered all too late

my missing friend, who'd checked his gait

or some such--i but speculate,

that may well be a lie--

 

 

as i write, i see that reddened face.

its staunchness, and its fear--

dearer now, in that this wretched page

marks end of its career...

 

...i will sign this, but must leave it here:

completing our sojourn,

i am charged to take that selfsame road.

 

will one of us return?

 

 

                                     (found at board in Prattlesby's Tavern; signature indistinct.)

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

felt like Going Archaic today; hope you enjoyed the journey.

Reviews

[Nobody.]

dear God! you are a poetic maelstrom in this particular boom!
I felt every syllable, wouldn't change a jot. it's fantastic.
no bullshit. the real stuff right here.

cheers!
RG

[.]

let me catch my breath..wow..this is sublime..I can't believe how easy it was to read, the flow was impeccable..totally hats off..really liked the feel of this - mapping out that epic journey in perfect rhythm..

[Michael of Gilead]

I love this, if you translated it into more of middle english it would rock...for those of us who would appreciate that ;)

[just rose.]

this is a work of classical craftsmanship and deft gothic appropriation, ESPECIALLY the found poem aspect at the end. I was with you, byron, keats and poe, holding a sconce, waiting for more. brilliant.

[mark slade]

that was great. good form, exciting verse. good work. keep it up.