I have new followers and new friends, so from time to time I would like to bring my new friends into my archives to see how I have (hopefully) progressed with my writing, today I take you back to April 2016 where I tried to film some videos for my poetry, I think that failed, but I would like to know how you feel about it. I might just start filming again.
This poem was also part of the free e-book of poetry “Just papering over the cracks”, if you know me than everything I write in this particular poem is tongue in cheek, a play on words, I like leading everyone down the garden path for a little bit of harmless fun!
enjoy and leave me the usual comments!
There have been many centuries,
And many words said about me
Now the lord is in his castle
And he will cut off all your heads,
The king of the castle,
Watching over you,
Dining on fine words and phrases,
Bow down to him
Call me lord.
An Englishman knows best,
When he is being praised,
But when he is banished from his land,
His name will be erased,
For when the king loses his speech,
And speaks in another tongue,
He loses his right to hierarchy,
He might as well be hung,
The debts and the taxes mean nothing,
If you cannot read for me,
Grammatically correct phrases,
If what is needed of thee,
So enter my court of jesters,
Don’t let the foul winter wind enter,
Make yourself at home between my walls
Call me lord!
You might not think I have the right,
To be named as powerful as this,
But when writing takes over your ideology
Books become your mistress,
As the words filter into my veins,
Phrases they burn my eyes,
The dust of centuries of literature,
Has made me somewhat wise,
I am the master of my destiny,
I have the keys to the sun and moon,
So come and read something of mine,
I promise it is not all doom and gloom,
In my castle that I have made a fortress,
The lord of the manor in all his splendour,
I have no time for balls and banquets,
I really must constantly endeavour,
Or not,
Whether I should,
Maybe not,
Oh lord help me!
As the English mists crawl in from the moors,
I see the red eyes of wolves closing in on me,
Doubts merge into the forms of spirits,
Winds howling and yearning for me,
As I tempted to reach out to them,
All forms of paranoia leaking from my mind,
But I stand tall and I man my barricades,
On positive days I’m determined not to fall,
Heart of a lord,
Closer they came and wilder the roars,
Candlelight’s are no match for this fury,
I will be damned in my vile memories,
I will be my own judge and jury,
As my heart light glows in my war chest,
Ribs are knitted harder and engaged,
My guts wrestle with their deepest feelings,
My temper so short and enraged,
Fiery lord!
My cape flaps from the devils winds,
Blowing an icy cold complexion my way,
Not wondering about my chapped lips,
But I was thinking how to win the day,
As I hold up high my ideas on my heraldic flag
A choice between pennon and banner,
The bright colours of my coat of arms,
Translates into positivity as I’m a winner,
Confident lord!
As the mists disperse and I see countryside splendour,
I see every river flowing from every mountain,
The thick bracken is no match for me,
When I hit the slopes of pure positivity!
The spirits of the moors no longer a threat,
They will no longer play their tricks on me,
For I am one master as well as a slave,
I try my best to plot my own destiny!
For I am lord of my ways,
Battling ideas and such fantasy,
For I am lord of ideas,
Chipping away at my insanity,
Call me lord,
Read my work and become whole,
Call me lord,
The master has left, empty is the great hall!
Darren Hobson is a published poet who writes constantly and truthfully, mixing his palette of words with detail and enthusiasm, he writes about society, the general grind of daily live but also writes short stories about the supernatural and dark fairy tales. He has many eBooks and paperback books on offer why not delve deeper into this artists mind?
Darren Hobson Poet 