steve1223 Poetry (718)

To thee I sing a song of farewell
Tis time for me to move on
These many nights together we spent
To me was the best of the best

So why? you ask, do I move on
Tis the bug called Wanderlust
And even though my heart breaks apart
It's onward I must go

Will I come back? your eyes ask me
Would love to say yes I will
But truth be known, as always will
This way I shan't pass again

So lift your glass for one more drink
And a last kiss for the road
Turn away, I'll hide my tears
As I leave this last time

Not one look, not a glance back
Just the blurry vision ahead
Even I don't know why I do what I do
And the lonely road stretches ahead

It seems there was not long ago
A prince and all his angels
They sallied forth to ride around
To investigate earth's problems

They rode north to ice cold lands
Amongst the snow, sleet and hail
On they searched, even under rocks
But find something they did not

They turned around and south they rode
To climates so much warmer
To places where the sun shone bright
But answers none forthcoming

They rode towards the rising sun
Through streams and up the mountains
There they stood on top of the world
But not finding what they were seeking

Once again off they set
With view of sun slowly setting
This was last chance's hope
And yet their hope was forsaken

So much pain and so much grief
The prince stood there dejected
All around his angels wailed
To see this earth's suffering

What must he do to make us see
To stop what we are doing
Bring joy back to the prince
And have his angels rejoicing

'Your Highness' says he as he bows low to the ground
So low that his forehead almost scrapes it
'I am but your utter most humble servant
To do what benefits and pleases your gloryness'
These words he spoke so slippery and oily
That should you step on them you would surely slip
"Yes, yes I know that you're here to serve me
To grant my wishes as I ask, nay my demands
But what I ask is your reward for service such as this"
'A trifling, a whimsy, mere bagatelle, not much at all
This paper sign, it gives me right to something
Something worth nothing at all, not even a cent
It is merely your soul, it is of no use to you
To be honest it's of no use to me, but you see
They look good on my mantle piece and there they sit
So really you see, I give so much to you
And take but nothing of any worth in return
There is the deed, here is the pen, sign on the line'
The man pondered, eyes glinting with greed
To have the world at his feet, Emperor of all around
The pen he took, signed his name, done was the deed
'A wise choice, the world will know your name
All will tremble and all will fear, yours is the world'
One last bow and one last scrape and gone in a puff
Left behind was a sulphur stench and smoke in the air

Tell me, am I out of line
If I went to hold your hand
with you I want to spend my time
On the beach, our toes in the sand

Tell me, am I out of line
If I whisper words of love
Hold you close, make you mine
Whilst the angels sing above

Tell me, am I out of line
If I want to make you my wife
I imagine a life so fine
Hand in hand we face future strife

Tell me, am I out of line
When done are our days
Together we sip eternity's wine
As we travel Heaven's highways

Travelling through the eerie woods
Trees of bright red Granderwood
Beneath my feet the Grovel Grubs
Their marching sounds my ears do reach
Beware, beware, do not step on them
For their teeth gnaw through boots
And toes they find so very delicious

Above so high the treetops sway
Home to the green Karpunzels
So shrill their cry, a mating call
They are cannibalistic by nature
Should the time be wrong, no mating game
The battle is on, survival the game
The loser becomes this nights dinner

In the sky circling high above
The purple Diving Quarker Bird
Circles high and folds his wings
And dives to forest floor below
There he finds the tiny Lousacrats
Scurrying in panic to evade his dive
Those once caught, carried home for sharing

So I'm telling you, travel lightly my friend
Round every tree is lurking danger
Some are big and so easily seen
Yet some the danger's much smaller
So take care, my friend beware
You're travelling these woods so eerie
God be willing, these woods you'll be leaving

You look at me, your fingers point
Behind my back you laugh at me
And some of you are less than kind
To my face you call me names

I might be old and a bit infirm
My bones creak and I stagger a bit
The muscles weak, I'm not as strong
It happens as you get older

But you who laugh and point at me
I too once was young as you
I thought that youth was always mine
And never would age catch up with me

Seems to me that behind the door
And other dark hiding places
Old age was there hiding behind
Waiting to out come creeping

So laugh away and point at me
For old age is waiting for you
Then you might remember days of youth
When it's your turn for others to point at

In the dark of night
When the moon is ripe
And loneliness my companion
Sad songs drifting sounding tripe
Fuelling my ghastly depression

There I sit watching misery
Spider walking up the wall
Whisky bottle brings memories
Memory takes me to a dance hall

There I met her tall and blonde
A vision so divine
Our eyes met was love's sight
I had to make her mine

Love blossomed, was like a dream
Was all that I'd prayed for
Together we would build our life
All that I wanted and more

Day came that we wed
Our vows we did speak
Man and wife we did become
And love grew from week to week

Word came I did not want
My heart ripped from my chest
A driver drunk, took her life
And I had to put her to rest

Darkness closed in all around
Was nothing left to live for
What I cherished, all was gone
And life is but a whore

In the dark of night
When the moon is ripe
And loneliness my companion
Sad songs drifting sounding tripe
Fuelling my ghastly depression

Was so long ago, lost in the mists of time
Barely remember it, I must be getting old
But one thing I do know, should not have happened
Time heals all wounds, maybe even this one

She came from, no-one knew where
Settled down here, like a princess divine
Cast her eyes longing, over all the men
Married or not, mattered not to her

Conquests piled up, I could write a book
Left hearts shattered, families broken up
No-one could stop her, no-one immune
She lived life like a devil's spawn

To town came a preacher, young, tall, handsome
She wanted him, more than all the rest
Wile after wile, none seemed to work
Time after time he turned her down

The more he refused, the more she wanted
Her appearance slowly it changed
To be refused, never happened before
Desperation etched her face

To her be denied, then no-one have him
A plan was hatched, doom was sealed
To hell she'd take him, together they'd go
Then hers he'd be forevermore

In the midst of day, was almost high noon
In the street she met him with rifle in hand
A single shot, backward he flung
Was enough to send him heaven bound

A look around, more she saw
Five more quick shots, bridal party secured
A bullet for her, blew out her heart
As she lay there dying a smile lit her face

Seven dead as the bell struck high noon
A wedding day, the devil presides
What a sad day, is best forgotten
This day should be lost in the mists of time

Echoes of yesterday
Scrape across my brain
Splinters of tomorrow
Buried deep in my veins

Today is dead and buried
Beneath the snows of now
My passing has vanished
No trace to be found

A poets words are powerful
They can gnaw on your insides
And set your heart ablaze
Or they can douse the flames
Of joy, peace and contentment
And bring pain, sorrow and suffering
These words can be truth
And set you free
Or they can be lies
To enslave you in their passions
Beware of the words of the poet
For they twist and they turn
And have the sting of an scorpion
Beware as to where they lead you
Maybe to a foreign country
Or one as strange as can be
Maybe even in another galaxy
But one thing is sure
Once these words have been read
You will never be the same
For the words of the poet
They will transform you

He came to hearing a soft feminine voice talking in a soothing manner. When he opened his eyes Granny was leaning over him softly caressing his face. It all came back to him and panic stricken he looked around expecting to see Little Red Riding of The Hood lurking in the background.

“You’re safe,” Granny softly whispered to him. “I’m sorry that it took so long to rescue you but she surprised me and had me tied up in the wardrobe.”

Granny explained to him that Little Red was really her granddaughter but she was a psychopath and had escaped from Happy Haven Asylum for the Criminally Insane. While Harold was still out of it Little Red had been collected and taken back to the Asylum.

Although Harold tried to stay with Granny in her Cottage he kept waking up in the middle of the night soaked in sweat and screaming. He decided that unfortunately he could no longer stay there.

By the third day he hugged Granny and bid her a tearful goodbye. In the short time he had become rather fond of Granny but the thought that Little Red Riding of The Hood was so close by and could escape again did not allow him to relax and settle down.

Once again he was on the road with no direction. Going back to his old life was out of the question, so where to go was the immediate problem. He wandered from village to village finding enough work so that he could eat.

In one village he was eating hot chips wrapped in newspaper when an article caught his attention.

‘….it is believed that a wolf was responsible for attacking and killing Granny in her Cottage in the Dark Woods. Little Red Riding of The Hood stated that she saw a wolf leaving the Cottage just as she got there. She could not identify as to which wolf it was but claims that its fur was matted with blood. Police are investigating but admit they are baffled.’

Harold was sad that Granny was dead but glad that he had not stayed there otherwise surely he would be dead also. But it seemed that once again the truth had been twisted and the innocent party made to look like a villain.

Anybody that reads this will know the truth. The wolf was the poor innocent party and the real villain was that dastardly and despicable Little Red Riding of The Hood. Unfortunately history has made her out to be the innocent victim.

Poor Harold was so terrified that he couldn’t move. He was almost buried in the warm doona with only his face showing. What to do? Slowly he cast his eyes around the room and then he saw her.

It was the girl from the forest. She was still dressed completely in black except for her red cape and hood. There was nothing demure about her this time. She had a sneer on her face that made her look almost demonic.

“Why Granny you sounded so loud when you were sleeping. You were snoring so badly that I thought that something was wrong with you,” with that she leaned closer that she was almost nose to nose with Harold.

Harold was perplexed. Surely she couldn’t be confusing him with Granny. They looked nothing alike and they had met before in the Dark Woods.

“Oh Granny,” she said, “what big ears you have.” She leaned closer and gave his ears a tweak. Harold was almost wetting himself in fright.

When there was no reply she gave a wicked laugh. “Must be so that you can hear me better.” Once again she gave her wicked laugh. “Yes, listen to me Granny. Listen to Little Red Riding of The Hood.”

“Oh Granny, what big eyes you have,” and with that she poked him in the eyes hard enough to bring him to tears. “My, my, Granny, what big wet eyes you have. I know, all the better to see me with.”

Harold had tears streaming down his face. He had no idea why she was doing this to him. He thought about pleading with her and even raised his hands in supplication.

With this she started to dance around the bed all the time laughing. Faster and faster she danced around with her cape billowing behind her. She was making weird noises that almost sounded like a demonic song.

Suddenly she stopped when she noticed his raised hands. A cunning look passed across her face.

“Granny, what large hands you have.” With that she gave them a hard whack. Harold almost screamed in pain but only just managed to hold himself in. “I know, it’s all the better to hug me with.”

From under her cape she produced a large shiny knife. “My, my, Granny, what an ugly face you have,” she hissed as she waved the knife around. This was too much for poor Harold; he let out a mighty scream.

The last thing he saw before he fainted was a shadow and a rather large black frypan swinging through the air.