Fantasy Poetry posted July 26, 2014


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Quest

by kiwisteveh



There lies in a kingdom once in a burnished time
neath the blue-sky skein of a legended, wonderous land,
the birth of a dreadful dawn. For the black fear's hurly-burly,
in the tarnished moonfold mountains' gloomy sand
of fabled rhyme.
one hope remains, and the wandering minstrel's chime
shall sing of the dying maid and he who loves her dearly.

Spring, spring to the sack-cloth saddle and westward ride,
where the shadows dwell in the mouth of the sun's grey knell,
who dies each night at the urge of the harlot moon.
Now the wolf cubs mourn for their grim dam's silver bell
and night birds glide
on gossamer wings, adrift in the evening tide,
a breeze alive with the scent of the deep wood's tune.

The child asleep in the warmth of a farmer's croft
may stir in a restless dream to the quick, bright beat
of haunting hooves that swell to a roar and fade
in the distant dark. The owl who preys in the wheat,
on wings awaft
may seize with her steely glance a shade so soft -
a phantom that flitters and fleers through the darkling glade

to the Dark Lord's lands where the scowling, stony crag
pierces the unquiet soul. Who seeks entrance here
but the hero of old, the bold and the true of heart?
Granite the turrets, the sentry-posts of looming fear,
where grey eyes jag
the rider alone who dares not slow, though spirit may flag
at the gully's gash and the black wood's threatened dart.

Here on the storm-ringed mountain's drear and rocky cheek
tower the awe-ful gates to a fortress black and vast.
Open, dread portal to thunderous knock, let bleak door swing.
Admit to your web-draped hall the Prince who bears the cost
of love, to seek
from grudging hands the vital vial sure to wreak
both curse and cure. Lover's reward and fate's foul sting

are borne on the fleet-foot winds of desperate need.
Tear back the misty shrouds of dawn to sun's new blaze.
Kissed by the taunting potion, sweet bride's sweet eyes
flutter a deep promise of life and endless days,
though joy may bleed
the Dark Lord's words, "For life, your death you must concede."
As the great scales swing, she lives and the brave prince dies.

 


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