I opened the page
And read of a mage
Whose powers were endlessly strong

He killed many beasts
Went to royal feasts
And s’pposedly knew right from wrong

But oft was I struck
By how his good luck
E’er boded ill for all but he

He’d “rescue” a town
Yet hundreds would drown
The carnage there for all to see

“A hero he was!
“Our hero because
“The man killed the treacherous king!”

So many would cry.
(Before they did die)
I know not why for him they’d sing

Yet still he’s cheered on
This storiéd con
I read about once in a book

Some say it’s all fun
To read what he’s done
But I say it’s gobbledygook.

May the Fourth


Stories told and stories writ
Here and near and far
Tales of love, courage, and grit
Among the distant stars

Teaching us of dark and light
Right and wrong and truth
Fight, they say, the greatest fight
Awake your inner youth

So we are transfixed, agape
One more earthly day
To that galaxy, escape
The one far, far away

Sonnet 3 – Here, at the Gates

winter-sunset-evening-purple-791079.jpegI have not seen you here before today

Here I’ve not been, but hear I of this place
I closed my eyes and here galloped apace

And here ever you now will have to stay.

What? Never can I leave, visit my home?
I’ve not yet said good-bye, nor finishéd
The story I had written in my head
Will I remain undone, astray, alone?

Fair Child, fret not, your story is not o’er,
Those left behind will ever tell your tale;
You have done well–look now to starry veil
And set aside your burdens evermore.

For rest you must, so shed not one more tear
At peace you’ll be forevermore, Child–here.

The Bard

Awake, dear souls, and listen well
To songs of yore and tales we tell.
We here have gather’d eagerly
Fantastic sagas for to see.

This one, a romance; this, a poem
Of wizards chanting from a tome;
The next, of old, a tragedy
About two brothers lost at sea.

A bard doth sing his happy tune
Of trekking under sun and moon;
But list’ning close, his melody
Reveals a slight melancholy.

For in his song, a darker tale
Is hiding underneath a veil
Of pretty voice and well-tuned string
And happy fires crackling.

He sings of dragons, fierce and strong,
Who to another world belong,
Of castles grand and halls of light,
Of damsel, page, of squire and knight.

Yet in his story wisdom lies,
As if he had, with his own eyes,
Beheld these wonders of the world
As his own travels once unfurl’d.

Now each of us, become transfix’d,
Is holding to each word betwixt
The sound of laughter and of dance;
We find a place to be in trance.

And just like that, the tale is told
Of dragon-hearts and blades of gold.
We clap, we sing, the fires roar,
Asking the bard to tell us more.

But he has vanished, disappeared!
And aft the fire-smoke has cleared,
We see no tracks; the man is gone
Who sung with us ere light of dawn.

So we return to revelry,
More songs to hear and tales to see.
The children laugh, the lovers smile,
Forgetting hardships for a while.