Woe of Man

(poems go here) The Woe of Man Melissa-Nichole Hermes The morning was cool as the children played. Mothers captured chickens to see how much the weighed. Bodies would jolt If a twig was snapped by a colt. One and all, they knew As darker the hour drew Would come the Horseback Daemon, clip-clop And surely heads would drop. As the sun set, all would hide Clip-clop, clip-clop was the daemons ride No one knew from where it came, Only was talked of its horrid fame. On the night, clip clop clip clop A dozen heads were soon to drop. The sun grows lower. Fast speeds the heartbeat of the lone rower In the eddy of the silent river. The wind stops its pace- sending him to his quiver East ran the man Frightful as he was of the damned. Clip clop, clip clop- the horn was sounded Clip clop, clip cop- a way he bounded. A shadow blacked his retreating back Then all he knew was black. Arthur was his name, Death his only fame. The brother found the quiver next day Down by the river road where the other had lost his way. The brother swore As so many before That the woe of man would have pain in store. Gathered he the villagers, The women, the children and the lovers. “Give love,” Called the man,” give hope, and pray For I foresee a day, yes one day We will be free. Oh you will see!” But alas, too late, the air grew cold. Chests tightened, air grew short, worried hands began to fold. The tension rose As from the grove A winged horseman did appear. Children screamed, filled with fear. Hear the man “Avast, away, you are obscene!” The thing chuckled “But I a not mean” “You want me gone?” “Well so long” “But I have one thing left to say” Then flew an arrow from the fray With a smooth wush… it found its mark. A growl rose in the putrid dark. Green slits of eyes glared Into the crowd they once did scare. Speech, soft at first Rose violently with a bloody thirst. “At first look you see a cage Invisible bars of unspoken rage. I am the woe of man, as you may have heard. My actions seem swift, cruel, and lured. See me simply not as construed But as you may see me viewed. There is no strength with a broken heart But a broken heart can tear one apart. To create a crevice within a book. A book into which very few may look. To sprout the fire, to douse the flame To capture a lion and make it tame. Is the goal of one so bold To smother a light and make it cold? I am the cloud within the rain. I am the moth in your window pain. I am the Queen. I have your soul. I have come to take you whole. So if die today this woe of man Be born tomorrow this queen of land!” The hooves of the horse clopped, cli-clop, clopped As the woe did ride away The eyes of the villagers burned- “after her” they seemed to say. “Bring her, death”, “Chase her down” a youth drew a thin blade. Alas the time was far late for the woe of man slipped into a blue glade. Ten years have passed and a hundred more. Peace is something many adore. None remember what came before. The glade is dark, Silent but the call of a meadowlark. A single red rose blooms Over old man Arthur it looms. A promise, you may say That the woe of man may return some day It is cool, the children play.