An Epic Poem
The wind blew threw the trees Making the many hands wave at the Passing traveler underneath the branches. The horse he rode bowing its head In the humid air of the mid day sun. Injured and red with blood Which flowed like red wine on to his Cape of thine and wool with tatters and tears. Broken sword gripped in one hand. Shattered spear in the other. Yet a soft smile opens on his face. Down though the valleys and up the desert hills From the battle that seemed to never cease. Man fighting man, brother against brother. No still in the nights or in pouring rain. He must help fight for the kings rights or for his own? In the castle they fought, though halls and bedrooms. Until the evil Baron dies the battle will not cease. Running through the marbled halls, sword in hand He made his way down to the main hall where the Baron stayed locked safely up. Breaking down the oak door and shouting insults of Every kind at the file man. Steel against steal rang through the castle as he fought the Baron. Must prevail for my people was the only thought he could think. As injury upon wound grew so did the frustration. And then stroke a blow that sent the Baron�s head to a tumble. The battle was over, and the new journey began. The soft hills of his homeland were as welcoming As the victory feast his comrades gave. The tiny cottage where his love lived made the perfect scene In the dying star of the day, making his heart ache. Dismounting and letting the horse free he laid to rest at The foot of his beloved house by the brook�s sandbar. Then lay to sleep, the unending sleep. The one that all true heroes can never overcome.
Author's Note - Another english assignment. Suppose to be a tragic hero sort of thing. Although I never got to turned it in because the printer decieded not to work. ~.<
