Poem: Lord of Dirt

Blood is worth dirt
Was what they told him
The only value his had
Was when it was spilt
In the field of battle
Bastard son
Not even owning a name
But when war called
It called his name
To which he answered
With a triumphant roar
To battle
Death would be better
Than the slow dying
Of a farmer’s son
But death waited
And did not claim him
Rising triumphant 
Over enemies in battle
To return home to a king
Who gave him a name
With a title
Now lord dirt farmer
In that sacred hall
After wanting a name
For so long
He found something
He wanted more
The Lady Belle
Daughter of the king
Forbidden treasure
Who he tried to forget
Forget he could not
She visited him in dreams
Then visited him in person
A mutual attraction 
They hid from the king
Until their secret was found
Inspiring rage matched
With force
Lord of the dirt knew
That capture meant death
Worse that he would never
See his lady again
So he drew his sword
That once served
Against the force before him
And in that field
His blood fed the earth
Sprouting a tree
Where a lady in black
Is said to still visit
And weep

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This week’s experimental poem is a Romance poem, you can read more about this form by clicking here.

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Copyright © 2021 TJS Sherman All rights reserved.

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