Thursday, September 23, 2004


Something new, yet inspired by older events...

Copyright 2004 (C) Robert Blezard

Imagine a dark road,
A knight and his mistress,
A tournament won,
The prize – renown, honor.

The forest is bleak,
Near the edge of the boarder,
A rider appears,
A forlorn knight in dark.

He was just the enemy,
A tournament lost,
He announces his intention,
She will accept his largess.

Nay, says the protector,
He will not have his way,
The favor of darkness,
Will not touch her.

Swords drawn,
Battle joined,
Experience versus youth,
But the tide turns to darkness.

The lady cries out,
A distraction,
At the right moment,
Saves the protector.

He rolls away,
While the darkness,
Lunges at his throat,
A sword bites deep.

The forlorn dies,
His aim his downfall,
Blood upon the ground,
The largess crushed beneath.

The protector rolls the dark,
Away to smite the gift,
But only a sundered box,
Holding a black rose.

Crimson stains the petals,
The lady weeps for the dark,
The protector,
Can only find fault within.

Proper burial,
Marked with honor,
Here a knight fell,
Chivalry died with him.

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