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No part of this poetry should be reproduced in any form without written consent from the author, Joe DiMino, who retains all rights: contact poet@light-cards.com
"The Old Gateman" (by Joe DiMino)
Where have all
The good knights gone
And highwayman
For the people?
Just bones with
A stone
To show us where
In the shadow
Of an old
Church steeple;
And should
The gray friar,
Knowing them all,
Tell grand stories
Of those fearless
And proud?
I say, he dare not,
Only silence
And him
Aloud
Sothe holy man
Does his oath duty;
Mending the armor
Revealing not their
Tale
Tending steel doors
Careful of the
Ancient mail,
Washing cold floors
With toothbrush
And pail
Filled at a well
No longer used
For meditative
Sinking
Spiritual drinking:
Forbidden coin
Forbidden wishes
Yet a secret
To me
He confessed:
One night a year
His vow broken
Climbs to the portal
(No longer a bell)
Yet he flails his arms
As if ringing out hell
A warning
To the people,
Alerting the knights;
He calls down
Legions of stars;
Beckons their steeds
Flying off Mars
Stars, brightly shinning
Moon, immense and full
As the knights,
Though opposite,
Come the demon riders
With hearts
Just as true
They clash
Making thunder;
They spark
Lighting dark
The old friars soul
Leaps back at the fire,
Fanning the fury
Within and without
Helmets fly pass him,
Staining the air;
Right or wrong
In the mix of battle
Only God cares
No rules to the conflict,
Only rules are the blood,
Striking deep
As the bone
Deep where
The soul
As one spirit
Lives in, so
Each warrior
Ultimately
Dies alone
And there
In the courtyard
When at last all
Is still
Still as the night
Still as dead
No actors
But players
The stage
Of which Shakespeare
Spoke
Its own truth
Its own joke
Its own dread
After the shadows
Swept away,
The dear friar
Rakes their beds
Tucks heavens
And hells,
Gateways away
Till the
Next eve
And All Hallows
Day
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