Poetry in Narrative.

By AncientsofRome

578 79 4

A small collection of story type poetry. Each one telling a different tale. More

The Story Teller.
Mere Words.
The dragon slayer of July.
Battle of the Tree's.
The Servant of Myr.
Forever is to be.
The Corn Stalker.
Tin Man.
Spirits.
Proclamation of Idiom Sur.
Gabriel's Ascent.
Fading into Grey.
A Sparrows Dream.
Morgans Fence.
The Youngest Brave.
God knows best.
Slaughtering Solace.
Two Horns and a Ram.
Beautiful Tia-A mat.
Denouement before the Reign.
Diamond in the rough.
The Mountain.
Flowers In Flight.
Rising above it all.
Mantis is King.
Addressing the Wheat.
Stark Raving Mad.
The Living Pew.
From Ashes to Vengeance.
The River's Sound.
Conclusion.

The Willow.

14 4 0
By AncientsofRome

The Willow.


From under the willow the rainbow glistened,

then there they stood but none would listen.

So down I went deep into the cave,

hoping at least one would save

me from myself as I wandered on,

but it was short lived as he waved his wand.

Trapped under the willow I sang the tune,

of marching men chasing the moon.

They stopped short and then just stared,

for the rainbows essence had me spared.

Who was I to claim and cross to their realm?

Was I lost as well?

Only my words could tell.

I told of dissension before and after that day,

they looked on in wonder, totally amazed.

"Who are you", one, stepped forward to speak,

I said, "I am the one that turned the other cheek".

"Crossing on over was easy enough to do,

it's the crossing back, but you knew this too".

Still staring perplexed, a smile settled in,

he told of his crossing; where the rainbows begin.

It wasn't a pot of gold they were after at all,

before they made the choice to cross and fall.

Feeling justified in what they believed,

but soon found out, they were also deceived.

So the option was there to start all fresh and new,

underneath this willow in the light of the moon.

I listened for hours which passed into years,

as he spun out his tale I was brought to tears.

But this new revelation has been heard all before,

it has passed into legend, even forgotten in lore.

About the tiny folk under a willow fallen for a rainbows light,

now awaiting a chance to speak before the Holy and right.

Time will only say what has really come and gone,

so listen to the wind, maybe you can hear their song.

"Once we were proud folk, we did as we should do.

We wrestled against the night and won battles too.

"But in the self we found reason to stand out on our own,

how we were once strong, how we have become and grown.

"Go back through the gate young Sir from our past,

for we have spoken our peace now we await at last.

"For the coming is silent this much we know

and we are prepared to move on with the show".

In a blink of an eye the rainbows light reached in,

and pulled me back to the world of men.

Standing in a valley staring at that great tree,

my thoughts reflected back to what was to be.

If our decisions delight us; Then what is it all for?

"If these folk were forgotten from a time long before.

Then will I be any different when my time comes to call.

Will I stand proudly, and choose not to fall?

Maybe I'll just sit awhile under this willow and swing,

and enjoy the pure essence life has to bring".

Oh, and Thank you for reading this note,

because I'm not the one that forgot the quote.

This was all spoken and written in red,

but you couldn't have known if you've not read.


A.o.R.


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