Feeling happy after reading Stephen King's Dark Tower Books. So good.
Where once I met a man of steel,
Now I see a flaw.
Where once a gun, a sword or knife,
He has no thing to draw.
His face is lined in years and grief
But blue, ah softly, steely blue!
His eyes are crowned in water’s hue.
Ah, blue, bombardier blue!
This man of Gilead comes nigh
And on his head is sat a hat,
Beside me sits he, and with a sigh
He speaks in voice his father had begat.
“Fools. All Fall, these fools,
While still there is a Beam,
A path to tread, I’ll walk along
And grin, and laugh, and sing.”
This last was bit off, he looked at me.
Blue. His eyes, harpoons struck me there
And all that I could think was:
A hope. A quest, both good and fair!
His chin, hard and stubble strewn,
Was strong, his figure cast a shadow, fell and long.
It twitched, his mouth, a smile shone through;
Ensnared I sat and heard his song-
“The wild will call ‘cross the waste
And you shall answer with your heart.
The land will call for speedy haste
And you will make a questing start!
All felled, these fools, but hear me out!
The Beam is strung along the world!
A strut! Support! A banner loose unfurled!
Join me. Help me. Nay, ne’er whisper, but fearless shout!
Roland o’ Gilead a-questing has gone,
And you could come along.”
Blue. The sea. A craggy face about me swam,
And then he nodded, saw my soul,
Then left that town where I was born;
I went, to quest, to search and to
Roland 'o Gilead am sworn.
Also wrote this as well on the Dark Tower at the same time:
The gun is heavy in his hand,
The Tower goes ahead,
He fights his way across the land
Insane in heart and head.
The rose emblem he seeks to find,
A key to lock his soul
His eyes are flint, are far from kind,
His search extracts its toll.
Oh Dark, Oh Dark its buttresses,
With turrets stark as night!
Oh grand, Oh grand its entrances
Wherein you find its might.
The gun is heavy in his hand,
He does not care, Roland,
He has an aim not through his gun,
But through his heart, undimmed!
Oh, torn is he from soul to heart,
But never dims his ka;
It blazes like the light of guns
Inherited from da.
The Tower looms ahead,
A beam is road enough
For old Roland to tread;
He’s made of stern old stuff!
Now Eddie Dean, Susannah too
All join the ride to find
The Tower, wrong and true,
From here to there their travels wind.
But up ahead their target grows,
They’ll reach it in the end;
But how will they be faced with woes
That road and hardness send.
A roar stupendous in its strength
Assailed our champion bold.
His armour lay about his frame
In layers of iron cold.
A sword of silver agleam is seen
In gauntlet dark as pitch,
His hair like ravens’ feathers sways;
His cloak is red and rich.
Before him stands in majesty,
A beast to shake his heart,
An ugly, huge monstrosity
Awaiting for him to start.
He smiled and flashed a gleaming grin
That cut the dark in twain;
Our hero bold, though brave,
Was really quite insane.
His look was angry as he leapt,
The moon was in his shield
And shone into the monster’s eyes
From far across the field.
It howled and raised its midnight wings
To fend away his blow;
Its shout shook loose a boulder storm
Onto the rocks below.
The fire then flickered on the beast,
And granted it some strength,
But flame too came upon the sword,
And flared along its length.
The time does slow, the beast arose,
Our hero hangs afloat
But who shall win, the man of gold
Or the beast that held his throat.
Author
Topic: [MILK] There were 12 eggs here what did you do with them? (Happy thread?!) (Read 16271779 times)