Joseph Manduke IV

Old Man

An Old Man in the Forest

He was whispering to me

Whispering secrets of souls

The night is coming

That is what I here

The night is coming

Now I cower in fear

Once the future has

Finally come to pass

Perhaps I may find

The answer in the looking glass

The Old Man has sinned

Of this I am certain

Gray beard, bald head

Finally, a silver curtain

An Old Man in rags

The picture of failure

He and the old hag

The Witch of the Forest

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    Dan Neumann (Editor): I wish I was better at understanding poetry. But, then again, perhaps the magic of this form is the insertion of one's own perceptions onto another's work. I see the old man as time (since he fears the future, yet embraces the knowledge it unfolds) and the old hag is nature (being the witch of the forest). I like it. What I would suggest is perhaps adding to the "Old Hag." I would love to see an expansion on her. Other than that, keep it up my friend.

The Distant Treasure

Joseph Manduke IV

I find myself within the beast

A tale of which I can say the least

Meat and wine, fruits so divine

The beginning of a great feast

I am misled

Lord have mercy on their souls

They are confused and fearful fools

Men try and try to discover

That which should not be uncovered

They are misled

At last I find the golden door

What does fate hold in store?

Such treasures of delight

I find myself overcome by the light

Is this why so many fight?

Could it be?

The world was misled.

Gallant Warrior

Blessed Knight, cloaked in black,

Come to the fortress of his Lord,

Concealed behind the shield of righteousness,

Up the stairs he climbs.

Towers of gray in the stormy night,

Most would only see a mournful sight.

Bricks built by blood and rage,

Hatred filling the hallways,

Screams sung by phantoms unseen.

Blessed Knight climbs the stairs,

Hoping he finds counsel.

Great King, noble being of strength,

Help him to find a piece of peace.

Battlements guarded by demons,

To hold off the fearsome ghosts of war.

New flowers bloom on hallow ground,

A final bed for warriors from distant shores.

Riches?   Power?  What has become of Honor?

Gallant Warrior, strong and true,

Victim of evils he must pursue.

At last he reached the golden chamber,

Dwelling of the wise words and ancient relics.

At last he finds his Lord.

Instead of a noble symbol of strength,

He comes across a shadow.

What was once a man,

But now a corpse of an age long past.

Gallant warrior seeks only the Truth,

In its place he finds lies and deceit.

What terrible darkness will come to dwell,

Now that evil has been set loose.

Guardian of Light is a guardian no more.

Who will take his place?

Shall they hunt for him as a wild boar?

It shall not be, the knight will take

The golden key of Truth.

And in the final days of an empire long gone,

Within the cities and towns and villages,

Stretching across the ancient land.

There will be a great cry.

Hail all, the King is dead!