The Jester

We're getting a little closer to the beginning of the story. Hopefully, I'll get a stroke of inspiration soon. Enjoy

The Jester

Among the cheery crowd a’mingling,

A nimble figure with bells a’jingling

And clad in motley, a fool

Spun like thread on a spool.

He whistled and jeered

And at the guests sneered.

Flipped, hid, jumped and bowed,

And, from atop a table, he spoke aloud:

Call me Merry Mort,

Jester Royal of the Court.

T’is my duty to escort

And to amuse the King and Consort

I welcome each and all, dames and gents.

The year’s done, its time – spent.

So the feast enjoy, lords and ladies,

And your cups raise, bid farewell to Hades.

Right is the time, all your sorrows bury.

T’is the night when all make merry,

For Rhyme plays the flute

And Reason plays the lute.

Mulled wine and chilled ale,

To help you down both deer and quail,

Pigeon we have, and mutton too

For the thin and the gluttons in you.

Should you so please,

To subject you, allow me, to a tease.

A small and harmless charade,

Fitting for this gloomy masquerade.

Should you find yourself wearing a crown,

In a cup would your sorrows drown?

Should you find yourself donning a dress,

Would you dance to rule or to impress?

Should you find yourself wielding a sword,

With fire would you play, or be the lord?

Should you find yourself hiding behind a mask,

Would you dawdle or raise up to the task?

Pray tell, can you choose when to fall?

Would you fight it? Risk it? Lose it all?

While you eat and drink to your hearts’ content,

Think about that, ladies and gents.

Alas, depart I must, my time is done,

Have your fill and have your fun.

But be wary of this eerie candle glow,

For we’ll all dine with the shadows.

He disappeared in a cloud of smoke

Which made some cry and some choke.

Yet, save one, none have stayed, in the night’s late,

To ponder about their darkening fate.

The Dragon's Rose

The newest installment in the Knight's Tale.

The Dragon’s Rose

A warrior, foolhardy and brazen,

Upon hearing the king’s plea,

Without thought of praise or blazon,

Lunged to seize his destiny’s key,

For the opportunity he longed for arose.

His king’s respect he’d earn,

By retrieving the Dragon’s Rose,

That which is guarded by the Wyvern.

Under the light of the Wolf Moon,

In what is known as the Forest of Gloom,

He came to a pillar engraved with runes,

Pointing to the place where brave men met their doom.

As he trekked through the dark woods on his steed,

He came across the mouth of a bone filled cave.

Not giving it a second thought of the pints he’d bleed

Nor if this foolish undertaking would lead to his grave,

He ventured in… but not before he downed a small flask

Meant to ease the darkness’ heavy burden.

He’d need his sight, if he’d complete this task,

Even more, before the rise of dawn’s first curtain.

Sneaking down the long narrow hall,

He reached the entrance of a stench filled lair.

Upon entering, his cautious tread soon stalled,

For his gaze met blood caked claws and an icy stare.

Startled, he drew his sword and stepped back,

Knowing not what kind of monster he awoke.

The Dragonkin stood with mouth agape, as if ready to attack.

With a flap of its leathery wings, in a husky voice it spoke:

“Who is he that dares to enter my domain?

And is he ready to meet my price?”

“He’s but a humble soul with nothing to gain,

And, for your Rose, he’d make any sacrifice.”

“Sacrifice? Who’d still believe in such a notion?

Men of today hunger for vengeance and thirst for power,”

It snarled, staring back with eyes devoid of any emotion

That would make a lesser man cower.

“I do. I care not if you take me for a fool.”

“Pray tell, are you that big of a liar?”

“If I am, my tongue will rest in a blood pool.

Believe me not, put me through the trial of the dragon’s fire.”

Was he mad? To face the searing blaze?

He blocked talons with his own metal,

As a thought escaped his mind’s maze:

If not the whole Rose, just a few petals.

With steady foot and sword aloft, he launched.

Suddenly, the dragon’s spiked tail lashed

Around his sword arm; he couldn’t staunch

The heavy blood flow, spilling from the gash.

With a roar, the beast let out a scorching flame.

He could feel the stench of molten skin;

Pain shot through him as fire maimed

His face, turning it sooty as sin.

Pushing himself back to his feet, he lunged

For the Rose which the Wyvern held close to heart.

He threw his dagger and, in its stem, it plunged.

The beast drew back with a start

At the sight of the falling petals and the red droplets.

“Are you doing this for one of royal blood?

Did you ride out at the request of a harlot?

Or, perhaps, it was a farm girl yet to bud?”

“I’ve seen them not. And would it matter?

All I know, it is needed for a cure.”

“You spare no time on idle chatter…

Now I trust your reason’s pure”

Said the dragon with a hiss.

“It would seem I still have something to learn.

The price is met… also, take this

Alongside the petals that you’ve earned.

A Ruby, a bead of my blood, hardened and dried.

It might not sooth your aching burns,

But it’s a token to be worn with pride.

Now, I think someone is awaiting your return.”

With a bow, the warrior took his leave.

He had to make haste, to the King’s Keep,

But he had to tread on treacherous roads that weave

And go on the brink of mountain slopes too steep.

Three nights’ journey and he was back,

Passing through the castle gates.

He was met by a man dressed in black.

“Finally, you’ve arrived. Let’s hope it is not too late!”

A good bye

One of the many. It is a little weird to sit here and write this, but this is my catharsis place. As much as I would love not to need this, it seems the only place where I can really let loose. Just like screaming into a pillow, but without the screaming and without the pillow. :)) (This is part of "letters to my unnamed lover", so bear with it.)

You know me, I am a romantic by nature. It is not an unknown fact, I loved you. I still do, and, probably, always will. I don't think I have it in me to utter the words "I hate you", no matter what you might have done. Or what you haven't done. I might feel the way I feel about you, but if it isn't reciprocated, it is like a fire burning out. Though you might have a kindling of affection towards me, it is not enough. I live, breathe and thrive on this fire. 

Just to give you an idea, I dare to say I am willing to dive straight into hell for the one I love. For some reason, it seems to me, this scares the living daylights out of you. Apparently, the concept of self-sacrifice is one of the things you are unfamiliar with. And I no longer have the patience to explain it to you, as you see it as a waste of time.  Damned be the individualistic mind set of the present.

Again, you know me, if there is one thing that I might list as my biggest weakness, that thing is Beauty. And, my dear, you know it yourself, you are very beautiful. Nowadays, we are surrounded by beautiful people.  But, as some know, for most, beauty is skin deep. A nice shell doesn't mean the soul is as beautiful. Need I say how your soul looks to me, with your way of thinking? Always blaming others for your own shortcomings,  always in someone's face or with your teeth sunk in someone's throat. Who said "Don't judge a book by its covers" knew what he/she was 

Like I said, I love you and always will, but it will not be Love. I won't go into the Agape/Eros debate, because I know you will not understand it. 

I think I will leave this letter unfinished. No reason why I will not finish it, just won't. I will probably be back, sometime. but not soon.