Certain!

It was a lovely holiday they both reflected

sitting by their hotel pool

checking the photos taken the day before

one made them ponder

remembering standing by the wooden gate

a question did debate!

 

Both certain they saw nobody behind them

only fields and stone foundations

yet clearly there were two figures in view

leaning on the stone wall

their clear outline was not a pleasant sight

upon a nice scene a blight!

 

Though the wife was reluctant to retread

her husband wanted to go

first enquiring with locals in the village

who were happy to tell

the stories surrounding the isolated area

making them feel scarier!

 

Back at the gate not so relaxed as before

compared photo with view

now with stories of murder and jealousy

and with a pencil drawing

of the farm-house that once stood here

the sadness was clear!

 

Drawn to walk amongst the stone ruins

scared they may confront

the un-rested souls captured on camera

disfigured by the fire

caused by the husbands early return

who watched it burn!

 

Raged at his wife’s infidelity and betrayal

made him start the blaze

trapping the lover and wife together inside

then taking his own life

all these events to them recently told

the emotion began to unfold!

 

Their perception now strong instilling fear

moved away from the ruins

decided to take more photos of the scene

on viewing they saw

them again both close enough to touch

burnt for them too much!

 

Arriving at the gate scrambled quickly over

smell of smoke strong

caught in a moment beyond comprehension

knew they had to break away

as the actions of that day long ago replayed

their own sanity frayed!

 

Falling exhausted on the ground realising

they were nearly possessed

by a lingering evil and oppressive force

locked in an embrace

left the area keeping the photos to show

others an explanation may know!

 

But unknown to them the entities went to

from then on their woes grew!

 

The Foureyed Poet.

Dark Knight

Shimmering on that bright yet unspoilt sunny morn

the Dark Knights armour created a shadow.

Standing like a giant before his loyal army

six horses approached upon their backs.

Rode six  more knights warriors full of pride

an ancient elite force were now by his side.

 

A vast enemy camp lay below them in the early mist

tension was high dark clouds filled the sky.

Fighting for months the force was now cornered

thinking of his Lady Claire whom he had saved.

From the clutches of the Barron who had taken her

his nerves building up how the anger did stir.

 

Mounting his steed the Dark knight drew his sword

Remembering his Lady as the seven rode forward.

Joining them the rest of the mounted soldiers

followed by his trusty band of loyal men.

In unison silently they headed into the fight

lead by this proud and brave Dark Knight.

 

As the enemy army below awoke to this new day

unaware of what was about to befall the camp.

An irritated Barron came out from of his stately tent

with a sense of impending danger in the air.

Weary of the never ending drive for power

not even he knew of his own final hour.

 

The Dark Knight had no idea his enemy had lived

his sword hadn’t pierced the Barron’s chain mail.

Almost laughing thinking how he had cheated death

the scar on his upper arm still giving him pain.

He knew that the final battle would soon begin

wanting more victims blood upon his skin.

 

Reflections were short lived as the lookouts yelled

a massive army was very close at hand.

Coming towards him the Dark Knight charged

head long into the camp slashing and thrusting.

A complete surprise to the sleepy enemy force

no time to repel as history took its course.

 

The bloody onslaught raged on through the day

as heavy rain began to form a pit from the depths.

As the knights numbers began to dwindle.

a lone figure stood there in the thick mud

The Dark knight looked in a disbelieving stare

only one would walk away alive from there.

 

The eye contact was short as The Dark Knight

with no mercy made sure his foe died.

Dispatching in one thrust The Barron’s head

this time he knew the monster was really dead.

 

The Foureyed Poet.

Published in: on 24/09/2008 at 15:30  Comments (1)  
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