My Knight

***This is a continuation of This poem is a continuation from River StyxDesert Red and Waste/Safe Land and Harlequin.
My mind in tatters
no longer content
I suffer at the hands
the feet
the vile wit
of Harlequin.
Fettered
handcuffed
shackled
I am merely a toy
a vain prop
to make a mad man appear sane.
None talk to me
none will come to my aid
I sit alone
dirty
scared
invisible to all that prance before the chief.
Sure that I was forever entrapped
slowly going insane
my knight in shining armor
he finally appeared.
Harlequin tried to protest
to gloss over
the horrors he had done.
The Knight
unsheathed his sword
shattered my chain in one swift blow.
Turning
his sword made a graceful arc
as he beheaded Harlequin
while I cried
cheering at his death.
Sept. 17/18
Photo by Henry Hustava on Unsplash
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Harlequin

***This poem is a continuation from River Styx, Desert Red and Waste/Safe Land
Peddler man
left me at the edge of the grassland
indicating
I was to meet the next guardian
through my travels
in this blindingly green world.
Abraded
flesh
soul
reborn
my heart was light
joyous even
as I followed the path.
I saw them before they saw me.
Soldiers gleaming gold
in burnished armour.
Squinting I move forward
to find myself surrounded
by men with pikes
with swords
desperation vivid on their faces
as they took me into custody.
Forced to kneel
before the Harlequin
believing
he was to be my next guide
I was caged
jailed
forgotten
for a small time.
Imperious Harlequin
an intricate dance for two
chained by his side
I sink into disrepair.
Sept. 16/17
Photo by elen aivali on Unsplash

Waste/Safe Land

***This poem is a continuation from River Styx and Desert Red
Travelling the desert
a hundred days
I felt sand
scouring
flaying
devouring
flesh from my bones
molding
forming
another me.
Peddlar man
quiet
plodding along
but inherently
seeking oasis after oasis
as I needed rest.
he refused to answer
any
all
cajoling
questions.
Shaking his head
not in annoyance
more like a parent indulging their child.
We crested that last sandhill
my mouth fell open
a silent o
as before us
spread out
a verdant sea
tears spilling down my face.
Sept. 15/18
Photo by Robert Lukeman on Unsplash

Desert Red

***This is a continuation from the poem River Styx.***
I climb
over burnt amber sands
piled high
reminescent
of snow hills
I played on as a child.
Glaring sun
no respite
I stumble along
unsure
where I am going
what I will find at the end.
Moving one foot before the other
cracked lips
I can feel the skin on my face
blistered
charred
no agony
no pain
Is this trial by fire?
Will the sins staining my soul
finally be erased?
An oasis I seek
mirage
what I find
until finally I fall
unable to move further on.
finds me
face down
covered partly by sand.
With surprising strength
he picks me up
placing me on his wagon.
‘Rest little one.
I am the next to carry you further.’
Sept. 13/18
Photo by Mason Field on Unsplash

River Styx

Awakening
slowly
unsure
where I am
how I got to be here
why am I on a boat?
I sit up
silent
wary
watching the river glide by
or is it I that is gliding?
Behind me
silent
grim
poles Charon….
I know exactly where I am
yet how did I get here?
No memories
no hatred
no pain
wait no pain?
Where has the fear
the anguish
the terror gone?
Replaced by a sense of…..
peace.
The jetty
abuts the riparion
I gingerly step out
wondering
where I am suppose to go?
I turn to ask
but Charon is gone
leaving me alone
upon the River Styx
awaIting the next guardian
who will help me
to move forward.
Sept. 12/18
Photo by LEBORSKI PROJECT on Unsplash

Believe

Broken
I decided that I could take no more
allow no one any closer
for I could no longer
take the pain.
Torment
heartache
tears
so so many tears
that allowed me no release
from my broken past.
Than you.
You took my hand
you took my lips
you took my entirety
finding a place in my life.
not always wearing a cape
not always rushing into danger
can be that one person
who makes you believe again.
Sept. 11/18
Photo by TK Hammonds on Unsplash

New Era

Bleak
grey
uniform in concealing
army waiting in the woods
focus on the enemy
even if this is a war
that should never have been.
Flacid lips
propoganda
whispered in our ears
turning us
creating within
a battlefield
mired with land mines
broken body parts
a giant war machine at work.
Wondering how we got here
watching the world burn
leaders of all nations
violent
unable to bring peace to the table.
Mockery has been made
of the time all once knew
as savagely
a new era is born
of blood
of madness
of leaders
who no longer care.
Sept. 10/18
Photo by Jason Blackeye on Unsplash