T'was ebon black that storm-lashed night...

Midnight moon hid well from mortal sight.

Clouds black as hell, cold as steel,

Broiling stern their thunderous peal.

The Storms of War were cast.

Barbarians all, from far away lands...

No mercy shown from their demands.

To villages they came, eyes wild with greed,

For lust and supremacy, upon poor souls they feed.

The Hunger for Power was cast.

Riding wild-eyed steeds, evil intent...

Solely upon destruction, their minds were bent.

Slashing and hacking till no man stood,

Pillaged and raped, stole all they could.

The Fires of Hell were cast.

Knights came charging, mighty beyond ken...

With swords a'singing to thrust savage men,

To moor's bogs, where they sank with all due speed,

Into death and beyond, for their ill-fated deeds.

The Tides of Retribution were cast.

Merciless eyes watched, as storms raged overhead...

Then turned tired, but victorious to bury the dead.

But one Knight, who sought his one true love,

Beseeched to Almighty God in heavens above.

The Torments of Fear were cast.

"I beg for mine Lady to be found alive,

that this love, so strong, may continue to thrive,

so mine lips may kiss her till her gentle heart glows,

and to bended knee I may drop to propose,

to give her love always, to pledge her my life,

to beseech her most humbly to become my wife".

With no answer forthcoming, his hopelessness grew...

To ancient rock, in sorrow, he sadly withdrew.

Painful loss, silent sobs, bled him dry deep inside,

as raging storms of nightsky did slowly subside.

The Mire of Despair was cast.

While his soul grieved, o'er dark moor, she ran...

Long, raven tresses flowed as her tears began.

Sad, brown eyes searched frantic for heart's desire,

As Thor's bolts of flame still lit night with fire.

The Winds of Dread were cast.

Then, within flash of fire, his sad form appeared...

Solitary he sat upon ancient rock that was near.

His head hung low in deep wretchedness.

His bloodied sword lay silent, now powerless.

The Tides of Loss were cast.

Blackened clouds parted, moonstars appeared...

From the moors, he saw shadows, as his Lady neared.

In disbelief he arose, then joy filled sad eyes.

Can it be she? And he knew, he heard her soft cries.

The Serenity of Peace was cast.

Into waiting arms she flew and she wept...

Close to the heart, that for her was kept.

Filled with love for his Lady, to her he proposed,

"Yes" was all that was heard as midnight hour closed.

The Purity of Love was cast.



© November 2001

Author's Notes/Comments: 

LadyHawke's Land Beyond The Myst---www.geocities.com/ladyhawkes---Welcome to a medieval and peaceful land, where romantic poetry and fine art consumes your soul.
Drift in the serenity and soft music, be at peace with yourself and let love set your heart aglow!

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poetvg's picture

i like this poem

pudnsis1's picture

Lady Hawke,
Your words are passionate, deep and vert thought proking. I was pulled into the imagery on the page. I experienced the harshness and also the underlying love that kept them alive through this massacre. A most enjoyable read. Linda