In the shadowy darkness!
The seat of war lies in my center of no man's land.
With my rampart and death-struggle there is only a dead wall standing.
On a force march the emissary is carrying a letter of black gold.
Turning the pages to crimson!
The yeomen of the guard are bringing forth the battering ram.
The torches of war and fiery crosses light up the darkness.
Before they open the trenches, and fall upon me.
I am consumed with the midnight oil of many colors.
I am carried by the storm ---- sailing near the winds.
I must tarry the dispatch with its lynch-law.
For ---- I am the knight of the road.
I must shake off the yoke ---- flinging it down in this space of time.
My gauntlets are clashing its bonds of harmony ---- with tears staining these pages.
Breathlessly it is the piping time of peace.
In my exaltation ---- I will kiss my book.
And with sorrow ---- I will lay it to rest.

Tweet

Comments on this poem/writing:

Click here to read other Poems by Rick Ryckman

Copyright©2017-1999 by Rebecca R. Hammack

COPYRIGHT NOTICE: All Rights Reserved.   No part of this website, including all pictures and written words,  may be reproduced or copied in any manner from this website without  permission of the original author of the work.  All poetry and pictures herein remain the sole property of the original author and/or copyright owner.  All poetry on this website has been submitted by the original author of the work. To contact any author of the work please e-mail: dreamer@dreamersreality.com  so the proper person may be notified.