You were seeking a reward you found a sword.
Raising the sword you followed the board.
The board discovered an encamp spy.
Oh wait, it was all a lie, perfectly crafted to invoke your war cry.
The battles are over.
The dead are buried.
The winners look like losers.
The losers speak like winners.
So confused, you’ve forgotten all the rules.
Go on and continue singing your down-home blues.
About the Creator
EYHCS
Poet by birth. Writer by craft. Artist by nature. I write poems, prose, short stories, fiction, and realism works of art dissecting the human condition and the resilience of the human mind. Many of my pieces are metaphoric stanzas.
The Road to Nowhere
Trigger warnings: Violence, Death. "May the Sun burn your tongue out, woman," Fredrick's father screamed the curse into his mother's ear as their elegant little carriage rumbled along, its polished wood and gilded trim glinting in the torchlight. They had just left the small village of Saffron and were on an unnamed road to the capital for the Royal wedding. Fredrick leaned back in his plush velvet seat to escape into the passing landscape, but across from him sat the servant boy, a scrappy lad named Jack. Jack's eyes held a mixture of awe and fear, the kind that only a commoner could feel in the presence of nobility. Jack looked up and caught Fredrick's gaze, offering him a sad little smile before reaching into his pocket and retrieving a little caramel treat. This candy was no doubt stolen from the kitchen treat cupboard; if he was caught with it, he would be locked in the box as punishment.
By Frank English7 days ago in Fiction
Comments (3)
You are on FIRE!!!!!!!. Never heard that song before. Keep burning those logs of motivation. This was so great. My heart is rekindling my motivation flames here. Go on with your bad self!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This was soooo deep! You always write such brilliant poems!
Great poem!