Fate

Final gag of hope, as they cinch up the rope, feet twitch in the dock

A fall from grace, Hickok's ace, outlined with chalk

To sit on your hands, when the audience stands, because of doubt

To know, that it's only a show, when the dimming lights go out

How it seems, to wake from dreams, when a nightmare leaves

The relief, from plummeting grief, when your child cries and breaths

Blood to spill, graves to till, atrocity magnified

Words chill, answers kill, curiosity satisfied

When the deal, won't cover your meal, what's the price of a kiss?

Virtue gone, when maggots spawn, was Judas remiss?

Author's Note

Wild Bill Hickock was supposedly shot to death holding two black aces and two black eights known as a dead man's hand after this.

Reviews

[Andrew John]

So good to see internal rhyme as well as end rhyme, as well as the how the subject is treated. (I did one called "Conservatory" once, full of internal rhyme, but, although it had 14 lines, I couldn't call it a sonnet because there was no end rhyme. It's on this site.)

[Soren]

Thank you so much for the review and most kind comments it is appreciated.

[willweb]

I knew that about Hickock and have actually visited Deadwood where it is said to have happened. Your poem really captures the darkness of the area and the situation and of fate itself. Nicely done Soren.

[Soren]

Thanks Will your comment means a lot.

[Chris Shaw]

Another time, another place. You bring this scenario to your reader’s attention. Your author’s note aided the understanding greatly. I remembered that old saying. Those who live by the sword, die by it. (or something along those lines). Life was cheap then. It’s not much better now in some parts of the world. You have a fine pen Soren.

Chris

[Soren]

Thank you so much Chris your review and kind most generous words are so appreciated.

[Coyote Poetry]

I do believe my friend. We decide our fate.
"Waste not, want not,
and you shall never fear your silences. If I
became a different self, grew to comprehend
the subtleties between errant and errantry,"
I do like the above lines. Some wisdom in those words and thank you for sharing the amazing poetry.
Coyote
malicho opposed to malice, I owe my wisdom

to her tasking hand. The love among her thorns.

[Soren]

Thanks Coyote I so appreciate your reviews and comments.

[emmajoygreen]

' Blood to spill, graves to till, atrocity magnified
Words chill, answers kill, curiosity satisfied'

Yours is a meandering tale of time past, of happenings too stressful to detail. You have captured the time, place and events and brought them to life, dear Soren. Thank you for sharing what could be an ending to what came before. Perhaps? .

[Soren]

Thank you Emmajoy for the review and kind words.