This won't be like most contemporay poems by teens like me. It won't be me waxing poetic about my own feelings or about me. No, though this one of my most personal works to date. This, my friends, is a narrative poem. It's more like a throw back to the time when people had poems for story-telling. But in free verse. I am still weak, I can not make a perfect metered poem. But I will continue to try.
I personally think nothing will top the first poem. It was a poem of passion and written with emotions that could never be recreated...but I hope you'd like this anyway. Final poem begin!
A dedication: For every writer who shed a tear for their own works but most especially...
For Zhang Kai,
Who wanted the know merchant's fate most of all
And waited so long to get it.
Did you come here looking
for some flowery, tale?
Well, sorry, buddy, this is not.
It's just some merchant that time forgot
And the rest of his sorry fate,
How he went and how he gone…
And if you should think it is poorly done
Sorry, fella, it's all I got…
Let's begin...
Many will fall, many will try
Many will turn back with or out a sigh
But the few that do rise back…
Shall be remembered for eternity
-
Cold shackled streets of Prontera
Mist dragons blow their breath
And no other signs can be taken
Do tell of another's death
In this night when the moon turns red
When the darkest nights do reflect
The darkest deeds that are feared
Are brought to life and affect
Seeming innocent lives…
And in the star-crossed stars of Prontera
Where the downtrodden make their homestead
The single man leftawake stood waiting
Breathing, for his fate to be decided
For tonight was the night—
When violet blurs went stalking,
They take their work not as a sin
But a necessary undertaking
By the betterer men of men
The time has come to take heart!
Take all the meanings possible
Be it real or metaphysical
The truth is not all laudable
"We know what's best for you."
Sins got the strikes as the talkers chanted,
"We know what's best for you…"
So the talkers say but they thought of what they wanted
The assassins struck fast
They could not strike slow
To the employers they must present
A most efficient show
So talkers, chattering in drones
Gathered closer round the merchant
Buzzed with grave, self righteous tones
Nodded much in agreement
The world is much better,
The merchant was gone.
Many will fall, many will try
Many will turn back without a sigh
Like the fading, light-filled day
Like the sun the merchant will never see
Strength, mind and body, drain from him
Frustrated, unable to reach mastery
But the few that do rise back…
Shall be remembered for eternity
Chalk up one for the talkers!
The vultures who crowed
They did not see the merchant rising
His head bloody but unbowed!
A handle on the handle
A foot on the floor
Came shout the merchant
Who thought was no more
Renewed vigor, rushing heat
The true battle has just began
Flashing fire,dangerous light
He found the moon but lost the sun
He slashed one,
Dove two,
The rain poured on hard…
He sliced three,
But got four…
And the rain splashed against Pron's clock
Beating each minute, second, hour
The storm raged on but time stood still
At the merchant's show and valor…
Or massacre…
The takers watched frightfully—"What, What!"
And felt their hearts painfully throb
"Get him, sins, get him now!
Go on, aim true, finish the job!"
The lone sin left soon stepped up
Scoffed by the lessers' demise
Weak were they, they did not aim true
Couldn't they have finished this merchant's pathetic lies?
"Go on," turned the sin to the mob
"Take the bodies and run."
Leering at his attempts to rise
"Only one would be left standing before the night is done!"
Rain lessened, slowed and stopped.
Wind ascended and parted the clouds
She whistled gaily for them follow suit
The talkers did gladly, the night was cold
Tarry any longer and the tale might be told
And Luna's light befell them all
The rising merchant and dispersing crowds
Many will fall, many will try
Many will turn back with a sigh
But the few that do rise back…
Shall be remembered for eternity
A thorny assassin was his foe
With katars, like tongues, so sharp
The violet blur deflected his rampant blows
Aimed for his throat, lusted for the heart
And the Sin did throw him a malicious gleam
So, long drawn battle won't take them far
As he circled the merchant warily
He licked his tongue-sharp katar
"Come, little merchant, think you're so great?
Nothing but little foibles did you make."
Under the Luna's cruel smile, the assassin did smirk
"Come, little merchant, your life let me take!"
He pointed a bloody katar to a far-off star
Letting moonshine in
The merchant's gone holding, just real axe
And listened to the assassin's prissy whims
No reply but to stand there
And lay a soaked hand to his chest
Where his beloved doll made a homesnug lair
And listened to his heartbeat in his breast
"Come, little merchant, let's end this game!
Come on, you pretentious faker!"
He started, let bloodlust reigned!
"You little monster, come meet your Maker!"
The merchant merely took up the axe
And lifted his rain-slicked head
Amidst the wounds and sinuous blood
He spat and said:
"You first."
Many will fall, many will try
Many will turn back with or out a sigh
But the few that do rise back…
Shall be remembered for eternity
Steel flashed in the wayward streets,
Life freely flowed with each strike and blow
But when all's said and done
Only one was left to stand…
…and fall.
Many will fall,
many will die…
As he fell dying, she tumbled out
The little darling from the merchant's heart
And all he did before his last breath, caressed
Her little head, and from what bled dropped on her head
But I will remember you eternally…
Come that morning, nothing was there
The dark, dark streets were left bare then
No reminder of the night,
no evidence remained
Except for tidied up bundle, forgotten
You all know the rest of story
There's little else to say
Did the assassin die? Maybe.
The merchant? Some priest whisked him away.
(Priests are like that, you know.
In fact, I was the priest himself.
Hey? Clamoring details, I see
Well, there's one little thing left.
One little incident to tell
So I guess I might as well.)
The merchant left his bundle tied
Oh so neatly and the sohee doll certainly fell
From the merchant's chest before he died
Come that morning, nothing was there
And the bundle was laid out like it was for sell!
And the sohee doll was out front, eyes haunting stare
The merchant was gone, of it the people didn't learn
But at night, they swear that something wails
Like a young woman crying, waiting for someone to return.
Sigh Well, well, dear people,
I gave it my best shot
If you think it purely stunk
Sorry then, it's all I've got.
Father Matthew Bunemoir sipped from the hot cup he was holding. He took out right hand and flexed it. Man, was he tired! He set his shoes on the table, careful not to touch the manuscript. He looked out to the window. Dreary and depressing…just like when the merchant died. He shrugged. A loss isn't entirely a loss. Not if it serves the beginning of something else… Something better, something more wonderful.
Matthew sipped some more. And tonight was a mighty fine night for kissing.
So the knight stood waiting
There in the pouring rain
Even if her heart was breaking
And hopes were in vain
And time made sure she weakened
Like a rogue crashing her armor
Left her vulnerable and stricken
To loneliness she will endure
Thought she found her heart's calling
But back he never came
And may tears have fallen
In time with the rain's refrain
One thought kept her reason
One mission to keep from getting worse
She'll finally ask permission
For the sohee to be finally hers
And so the knight waited
Waited for his return
No had heart (or guts) to tell, "Wasted,
No fate of the merchant could be learned."
But one fella came traversing
During one very heavy storm
And would set Kali's heart breaking
There would be no merchant's return
Grow tired did she, so much time passed
And she fell upon the strangers strong hands
And at the hope for life, pleadingly asked
"What has happened?"
To which he plainly answered
"The merchant had died."
The knight broke down. Kali feared.
Kali cried.
And to her greatest surprise
The smith cried with her.
'I know now where my heart lies,
It's with you and only you, forever.'
The mastersmith pressed his lips on the knight's
And kissed her
It felt sweet, it felt strong, it felt…right
Love…a papery summer for every harsh winter
Epilogue
A long road did those two take
Before they realized their union
One they could never break
They fell at first sight
The image they thought they knew
They exchanged blows, laughter and wit
And the knight fell in love with the mastersmith
Not just the merchant she thought she knew
The mastersmith did realized
That she more than just a lady who just cries
But a woman of temperament and constancy
Of kindness, emotion and marked destiny
Not just the swordie he thought he knew
Ah, if you think the story just ends there
Tut, tut, au contraire!
But I do believe you're tired of this rhyming fare.
So there…
The End
(or is it?)
So ends the first thing I finally finished. Hmmm… Ignore the epilogue if you will, that was just part of the story of the Cathedral I was thinking of. Yes, I know, not all are perfect rhymes. It's not a masterpiece but I think it's a pretty good for someone my level.
There will be one more chapter: An exposition of the poems which will answer questions like:The merchant is a true character butat the same time he serves as a symbol. Ofwhat?(A nice drawing for the person who gets the meaning. And props for the sharp eyes that catches the two hidden words in this poem. :D Nah. Not expecting anyone to answer that challenge) Or is the 'mastersmith' truly the merchant? If so, why did he say the merchant was dead?
Thank you, Ate Kalikasan. (You're the knight, hope you won't mind. :) Your first review still gives me the shivers. If you haven't given me that, I might've ended up truly 'dead' like the merchant. And Zhang Kai, sorry about not answering your e-mail, I only found about it now. So consider this my response. And consider this poems as a birthday gift or very early Christmas gift, if your birthday's past already or a just a plain gift if you don't celebrate Christmas. (Here in the Philippines, we're hyper early.) I wouldn't have continued if you and other people didn't want to (like Annika. Yo!) But I've just got to ask…
You said that you had a similar experience. How? I certainly hope you weren't beat up like my poor merchant. But if you were, I'm sure you'll turn about and become a mastersmith. Hope you get that. Thanks and till next time…why can't Clifford be like Kazeno :P