by The sky this morn is black with crows,
The rising sun an angry rose
Casts blood in petals on the land.
And I sing, to remember all I was
In another age, in another time,
Beneath a sweeter, brighter sky
When all the world was you and I.
White horses walked in sylvan glades
In days when knights could honour maids
And seek their favours in return.
And nought I sought in recompense
But ever fought in your defence
Long after honour was all gone
And long before I lost the dawn.
The twilight now, in softened hue
Fades all my memories of you.
Evening mist now veils your face
Treasured thoughts of so long ago
Will soon lie cold beneath the snow
In shelter from the wind’s embrace
To be awakened never more.
Night clouds gather, my day is past
I will take you to my bed at last
That part of you forever young
Though undefined within my heart
Shall be the verse of my last song.
And when I lose my final fight
Your wraith will guide me into night.
© Frederick Anderson 2016. All rights reserved. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from the author is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Frederick Anderson with specific direction to the original content.
Happy New Year Frederick Xx
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And to you Jane. Have a magical year!
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I hope you’re okay. This is so sad.
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Thank you so much for your concern, Amy, but no, it’s only a poem. I like to think I made it out of 2016 relatively unscathed. Have a great 2017!
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Phew! You had me worried! Glad to hear all is well, and let’s hope 2017 is better than I think it will be.
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This gave me chills…in a good way. Especially the ending, so beautiful, poignant and sad. Happy New Year, Frederick!
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Happy New Year, Mae. I shouldn’t do poetry – it makes me depressed!
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Great images! I noticed that you start each with a capital letter, even when there is an enjambment.. have deliberate a lot over it myself, and settled on small letters for continuation 🙂
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It is the traditional treatment for poetry that I tend to follow, I guess because I am sensitive to the emphasis at the beginning of the line – I would maybe not use it if a sentence continued throughout the stanza without a rhythmic break. But then, I am not a poet. I am simply a writer for whom poetry occasionally seems appropriate to a subject, an emotion, a lyric, whatever. Just as a teller of tales I am very aware of pace and balance, in poetry when I attempt it I am always seeking rhythm amd scan. I tend towards a natural eight-syllable line, too. I rather wish I didn’t.
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You do a great job of it, especially in picking images..
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I loved the rhythm of this; so satisfying to read. And the emotion it expresses — sad yet cathartic.
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Thank you! I’m glad you like it.
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