In the Night

We did not think the Tempters words
were true when we complied
but after years of being spurned
by those embalmed in light
the ever-present off’ring
of the one who trades in lies
became a salve for suff’ring
when we fled into the night.

Do not believe we fail to grasp
this deadly game we play
and ’tis true that we never asked
for you to ease our pain.
But sometimes those whose torch burns fast
and yields the brightest flame
are those who live behind a mask
of bitterness and shame.

Don’t blame yourself for tragedy
happens to every life
but on occasion those like me
admit we’ve lost the fight.
The scales of justice have indeed
become a ghastly sight
but we all know it’s just the fee
for living in the night.


After the Fall

The Cursed Height

Once again I feel compelled to offer a bit of an introduction to my next poem. Often I relish the opportunity of leaving my work for others to wonder at the meaning behind. Irregardless of its reality. (Whether that be a blessing or a curse I cannot say.) However the post today is one I believe many (if not most) of my readers can relate to. Therefore I have concluded that explaining its meaning may allow a greater general appreciation of it. Included here is a caveat though- If you would like to try and discern the meaning prior to my explanation stop reading this introduction until you have finished the poem and come to your own conclusion. Then return here to either validate, or negate your position. Also if you find that the mindset this work evokes is one far different than what I have put forth in my explanation sound off in the comments so I can see what you’ve discovered!

As you can see above I was not fully convinced in my own mind when titling this work. I feel that After the Fall in a grander fashion sums up the ideology behind its conception, but then The Cursed Height focuses more upon the object of our characters trial. Regardless of this triviality, however, I’m hoping this poem will bring to mind the embodiment of the idea I was trying to capture.
It’s that moment right before success. You are just a few steps shy of your goal when everything falls to pieces, and you find yourself at the bottom looking up again on the same mountainous climb you just traversed. A few seconds to the finish line and you fall… You have to begin all over in what oftentimes seem like a vicious repetitive cycle. Much like our character here who finds himself (again) on the bottom.

Its cold, harsh, discouraging, and demoralizing. To come so close only to be sent back down that same slope with no other option but attempting the climb again.
Nevertheless it is a reality far too many of us encounter on a daily basis. Take heart. Get up and climb! We’ve all been there. We all ARE there.

With that said please enjoy:

~ After the Fall ~

He picks himself up off the ground
then lifts his eyes and looks around.
Once again below the rim
Once again all hope has dimmed.

Then stepping out he moves towards
that treacherous slope, that deadly form
before his knees both buckle down
beneath the weight but not a sound
escapes into the sultry air
no curse erupts- he hardly cares.

For of that fire he once bore
to vanquish foes and win all wars
resides naught but a sputtering flame
a shadow of its former blaze.

Barely finding strength to stand
he looks up reaching out his hand
to shield his eyes and shade his sight
to view the towering, cursed height.

Then a fury in him swells
as he gazes upon the fells
and rushing with a vengeful stride
he clambers and begins to climb!
The devil will not hold him back
he’ll conquer this demon at last!

So furious is his upward flight
that quickly he forgets his plight
of that abyss now far below
and all the horrors he has known.

But alas no sooner than that flame
of hope within begins to blaze
when naught but some odd feet remain
of this cursed beast he yearns to slay
the rocks that hold him up give way
and tumbling down the slope he lays.

And for a moment all is still.
Is there yet a spark of will?
Then slowly rising from the ground
he lifts his eyes and looks around.

Without a Chance

There’s an old, old story
that I once read
tells the tale of a peasant
and the deeds that he did

First at the beginning
though, I must commence
lest you understand not
where I’m going hence.

This story begins
with a king grown old
who had not an heir
to bequeath his gold

Save only a daughter
a damsel so fair
that the nobles for miles
would stop and stare

But the king in his wisdom
understood that their stares
though simple and subtle
indicated that their

Love for his daughter
was for the beauty she bare
and not for her person
her health and welfare.

But alas though this king
of this truth understood
yet still he retained
no thought of what should

Be done to bequeath
his fortune of gold
or how to find one worthy
of his riches untold?

And so he devised
a plan so bold
that only the bravest
would care to be told.

He locked up his daughter
in a tower so high
with ice like a mountain
sloping on all sides.

Sealed up with his daughter
were three apples of gold
the value of one which
could not be told.

Then the instructions
to all men were told
the rich and the poor
the young and the old

“Whomever among you
my daughter can free
by climbing this ice
while riding his steed

And bring to my palace
the apples she bares
He’ll then be my son
the prince and my heir.”

Thus with fortunes awaiting
only to be claimed
there came such a crowd
that could countless be named

Of kings, and of nobles,
princes riding steeds
the finest of which
poor men only dream.

They all came together
to lay claim to the prize
to prove they were worthy
of the benevolent eye.

But alas to the king’s
very grave dismay
not a man could be found
to succeed that day.

That day turned too many-
and then many weeks
no one had come close
to reaching the peak.

As weeks turned to months
and months turned to years
the nobles forgot
of the beauty so clear

That shone from a damsel,
who sat locked away
in a tower of ice,
whom no one could claim.

But the princess still stayed
all alone in her tower
with three apples of gold
three tokens of power.

Now to that peasant
where my rhyme had begun
you knew I would get there
before we were done-

He worked in the fields
bringing hay and straw
to feed all the horses
both great ones and small.

He knew of this legend
of this damsel so fair-
but it really was not
of that which he cared.

For this peasant saw
a woman indeed
a prisoner who needed
at last to be freed!

But to be released
one man had to climb
not only once-
but at least three times!

And though this he wished for
he knew he could not
for he had no steed
and knew none could be bought

That would ever be able
to that height attain
for horses were simply
not built to maintain

The level of strength
he’d assuredly need
if he were to ever
gain the damsel’s release.

But then something happened
while he worked one night
when a lightning bolt shattered
leaving quite a sight.

A horse dressed in bronze
the sound of whose neigh
was the sound of a power
that was not human made.

On this sight he pondered
for whom could this be?
And who was it who granted
such a stout noble steed?

And truth is the answer
to that question’s unknown
and he marked it down
to the fairies alone.

So up on his back
this peasant did ride
wearing the bronze armor
that had come alongside.

He raced between crowds
to the great icy slopes
and began to climb them
as the king had long hoped.

His steed dug his hooves
using all his strength
carving a passage
a third of the way.

But he could continue
up no more that way
and turning around
he left off for the day.

But before his returning
brought him to the ground
the damsel above him
tossed an apple on down.

And holding his prize
which he’d won that day
he wielded his steed
and galloped away.

*** *** *** *** ***

My conclusion is brief
yes returning next day
the peasant climbed higher
earning two of three

Then once more enduring
he claimed apple three
by reaching the top
and at last she was free.

The king knew his promise
and made him his heir
for no other was worthy
who conquered his dare.

But now hear my question
of you I will ask
what if the damsel
was not in distress?

Would the peasant still climb
for three apples to gain?
Surely one was enough
for it was priceless in trade.

But alas even that
is not the question I fear.
For three golden apples
he could never have neared

Save for some fairy mother
who granted a steed
a horse like no other
to accomplish the deed.

Why then the bother
of trying to earn
what only can come
if you’re granted a turn?

A turn that if gained
like the peasant you’ll be
ready and able
to accomplish the deed-

For what of those others
those from far and wide
were none of them worthy
to be granted a try?

Or is fate simply laughing
at all those who yearn
to be something more-
With no chance if no turn.