The Good Knights Kiss

Green fields roll out from the castle gate, As I ride out not yet knowing my fate.

The wind brings the perfume of the hundreds of wild flowers, a moments betrayal

to the task at hand.

The sky a living rolling foreboding gray, denotes the days purpose.

Tis a thing of honor I must do, so out I ride my sheathed sword at my side.

Soon to extend into it, my life’s blood; for it is as much a part of me as the hand that

wields it, that is my curse and the curse of all those like me.

This accursed sword that has laid so many good men down for the long sleep.

Yes the blood on it pushes me on to a fate not yet determined.

To avenge that what was done unto you my lady for I am sworn to do so.

So on I ride.

While off in the distance the field of battle waits.

I see my opponent already in place, could it be he welcomes his fate upon my sword?

The rain begins to fall as I dismount my horse, with the crack of thunder and the speed

of lightning I draw my sword.

As I have a thousand times before this fateful day I draw it up, in so doing I invite the

start of battle.

Slash, thrust, Cross slash, the sound of clashing steel so familiar as to sound like music

to my ear.

Clash thrust, cross slash, thrust, this man is a worthy opponent; strong as a bear.

Do the years catch up with me now? Here ?

I feel as though I’m more blocking blows now than landing them, Thrust, block,

slash cross block, thrust, cross slash.

I feel the steel go deep in my mid section just below the breast plate, it stops not

till out the other side.

I stand there for but a second, contemplating the end of life.

An eagle screams from some where above sounding like my king “push on good knight”

With the last bit of life I raise up my sword high above and with one last mighty cross

slash I separate this noble opponent from his head.

I look down to see it looking back at me with a look of utter surprise in its eyes, as

Rain washes it clean.

I fall fittingly next to it, my last thoughts were of the rain, the birds, the sweet smell of

The land smells like home I thought, Thank God honor was served that day.

In the end it mattered least to my opponent and I.

With my last breath I kissed the ground for it is the land I love.

Reviews

[Cherrie Palmer]

I enjoyed the rhythic beat of this poem and the clearity of the story that you told, very nice work

[Samuel Dickens]

A good description of the thoughts that might have gone through a knight's mind on such a day, I think. Graphic, but not excessively so.

[Desert Dreamer]

I am not sure whether to be horrified to see the image of the two death or happy that the end came this way, with the smells and sights of earth and nature. I enjoyed reading your story.