He Wards the Night
Selfless and obstinate
He screams into the ether when no one is around,
Talking to his dreams to bring them into fruition,
His heart is worn right there upon his sleeve,
But he is also obstinate when it comes to his ambition.
**
Tomorrow is for striving to be the best man he can,
Kindness is his moral compass of living a good day,
He’ll offer his hand to those in need and down on their luck,
And he’ll shake his head when they offer to pay.
**
He wanders the streets on the darkest of nights,
Protecting the homeless with his strict presence,
The lowlife of evil wrestle in his space,
And scatter into the unknown whenever they feel his essence.
**
He rides the darkness like it’s a bucking beast,
Keeping hold of the reins to show who is boss,
He heels the doldrums to sit by his side,
Kicking and screaming at evils twisting loss.
**
Sunlight waits patiently in the background for his wars to be solved,
And spotlights him in its rays when he succeeds the rough fight,
He gets to slumber now through the lightened hours,
Until the sun slips to bed and leaves him with the night.
**
He fills the heavy air with his selflessness and kind heart,
Knowing the thanks he’ll get are few and far between,
But he’s not here for the accolades or noise of grandeur,
He’s here to keep the night’s darkness clean.
**
Seldom does he slam into a thick band of demonic praise,
But when he does its fire and dust,
He’ll fight, to his very death, if the screams go unanswered,
Because the obsolete and underhanded are gaining his trust.
**
He strolls the corners of desert and dirt,
He runs through the alleys of disgust and compression,
Clearing the forefront, while leaving a pristine track,
And all who meet him are taught a valuable lesson.
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Originally published on Medium
About the Creator
Colleen Millsteed
My first love is poetry — it’s like a desperate need to write, to free up space in my mind, to escape the constant noise in my head. Most of the time the poems write themselves — I’m just the conduit holding the metaphorical pen.
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More stories from Colleen Millsteed and writers in Poets and other communities.
Once More Unto The Breach
He let the sword slip through his other gauntleted hand. Athlistan stood atop the crest of the rubble of Bordanium’s ruptured curtain wall. Beyond, the remnants of the Saxon’s first assault regrouped. They would come again–Athlistan knew it.
By Matthew Fromm5 days ago in Fiction
Comments (3)
I think Randy stole the show here hahahahahahahaha!! Anyway, I loved when you said the sun slipped to bed. I loved your poem so much!
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na, Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na, Cat-Man! Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na, Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na, Cat-Man! Cat Man! Cat Man! Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na, Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na, Cat-Man! Conan the Barbarian meets Batman with a different familiar.
Fabulously written!!! Loved the last stanza!!!💕♥️♥️