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The crusader: a explore for the asset contained by (an extract of an epic poem) - poetry

 

On because of the darkness she searches the bones
Seeking the hand of her love;
Deep in the stillness, the maid searches on,
Petitioning help from above.
Onward she gropes all the way through the flesh and the blood
Of the warriors flawed and maimed;
She carries no hope for the life of her love -
For nil but his body she came.
To see his face and frame his head,
Hold him close to her breast;
Shed bitter tears at her sweet love's end
And give him peaceful rest.

As dawn ascends the dark sky
And the glow of break of day breaks,
She happens upon a scene of peace -
Of death, where none awake.
Andrew is pierced by arrows, three,
David is struck by four;
She mutely gives gratifying thanks
He did not be ill with more.

She reaches forth and takes his hand,
Her heart leaps in ecstasy!
"He is not dead! He is not dead!
His hand feels warm to me!!"

She knew she must act rapidly,
The sun was near the crest;
The hilly peaks that shadowed still
This dark plain of death.
She broke the back of every shaft
Then pulled the rest clean through,
And compelling his ankles with tightened grasp
Her dilution and courage grew!
Pulling advance with all her might
They ongoing crossways the plain,
A horse and portage waited there
To bring them safety, again.

Faint, a cry came from behind
A voice she knew, in fear!
"Andrew", cried the voice in pain,
"Come. . . die with me here. "
Her mind now raced a hundred ways -
Must she benefit again?
Compassion and terror racked her mind,
Each vying for favorite to win.
"David", held her own true love,
And she knew she must give in.
Yet a bit anxious her awkward heart,
Urged her not to stay;
Leave David to die this admirable death,
Take Andrew and run away!
"I'll not come concerning my love and his friend,
I would not even try;
For it would cause more grief and pain
For which I'd wont to die!"
So one by one she dragged them through
The decomposing disgusting odor of hell
And all right returned to the retreatment camp
To nurse and make them well.

For days they lay near Death's cold door;
She tended to their wounds.
And tended to others, hurt sore,
Who made the grave their home.
The crusading band, now conked out down,
Their cause but memory;
Now turn for home, most who remain
They taste not victory.
The commandant and a few brave men
Remain and do their best
To help some in their recovery
And give others peaceful rest.

Conscious now, ahead strength
And ready to be gone,
Andrew and David share their thoughts
On war and going home.
David speaks of raising men
And frequent to the fight!
Andrew's had his fill of death
"This war just isn't right. "
"Your brother was no coward, son,
He fought most valiantly.
Let us get even our Jonathan's death!
You'll adjustment your mind, you'll see!"
"At least he's got a mind to change",
A voice comes from behind,
"That's more than you left poor Jonathan. "
The maiden speaks, unkind.
"What do you mean?!" Andrew cries
With anger in his voice;
He glances concerning the man and the maid
And knows he must make a choice!
"MY love, your brother did not die
At the hands of an infidel",
The maiden's eyes burst forth in tears,
"T'was a celebrity he knew well!"
David felt his heartsick curse,
His curse of blood-stained hands
And drenched them madly, he exclaimed,
"How oft must I defend?!
It is not true, I've done no wrong!
T'was Providence's will
That Jonathan would stand my way
And thus catch the kill!"
Andrew's mind now fills with rage,
"Why could I not see?
The adjust that's taken half your mind,
And just about mine from me!
Now, by means of deceit, I'm obsessed far
Across this wilderness
To maim and kill these blameless lives
To set my soul at peace!!
I curse you David, I curse your breath,
May conscience tear your heart!
May your soul evermore burn -
I can only mourn your loss!"

David cries in anguish deep,
Andrew prepares to leave.
The maid must bear her anger out
And turns as she makes to leave;
"You were immovable up in the joy of death,
Caught up in the thrill;
That caution had escaped your hand
And Jonathan you killed!
You glory not in the cause of truth,
You do not seek God's will,
You glory not in His good grace;
You glory in the kill!!"

Deathly silent David falls
His mind recalls again
The look upon his true friend's face
As his life already him drained.
Sanity plants his diluted frame,
Revenge is in his eye!
T'was Andrew's fault his associate is gone,
T'is Andrew's turn to die!
An evil smile forms the lips
From a vile, cankered brain
That gropes to plan young Andrew's death
With a greatest of pain!
"Let him die ahead of my eyes
With a greatest of pain!!"

(this is an citation only)

Bob Curtis has been journalism articles, short fiction and poetry for over 30 years. He is the running executive of http://www. people4people. blogspot. com, and is the leader of Nexus Publishing, http://www. nexus4u. blogspot. com

For in rank on obtaining a accomplished text of "The Crusader", write to nexushelps@gmail. com.


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