Poetry Prompt: Chalice
Poets: Sue Fernott, Blaidh Nemorlith and Ambrozya
The Knight's Lament by Sue Fernott
The Knight’s Lament
Long ago, as page to a mighty Lord,
The young man was a keen apprentice,
Learning of the knights search
For the sacred chalice of the Grail
As he hungrily soaked up tales
Of chivalry and glory.
Later, as a knight himself,
He returned to those foreign lands;
Fought battles, lost sweat and blood
Amidst the chaos and confusion
No quarter asked or given,
The bloody fury laid bare in the name of religion.
Throughout the years,
The grail was always in his mind;
Barely a thought spared
For the wife he left behind.
Mostly forgotten, she raised his sons
Teaching them that their father
Was a brave and clever man.
Now at the end of his days, his eyes are dim with age
His wife long passed,
His sons far away
He reflects on the folly of his years;
Amid the dawning realisation
That a far greater treasure,
A higher prize than the one he sought,
Had been at home all along;
The chalice of his wife’s heart
Which overflowed with love for him,
Now lost to him forever.
Long ago, as page to a mighty Lord,
The young man was a keen apprentice,
Learning of the knights search
For the sacred chalice of the Grail
As he hungrily soaked up tales
Of chivalry and glory.
Later, as a knight himself,
He returned to those foreign lands;
Fought battles, lost sweat and blood
Amidst the chaos and confusion
No quarter asked or given,
The bloody fury laid bare in the name of religion.
Throughout the years,
The grail was always in his mind;
Barely a thought spared
For the wife he left behind.
Mostly forgotten, she raised his sons
Teaching them that their father
Was a brave and clever man.
Now at the end of his days, his eyes are dim with age
His wife long passed,
His sons far away
He reflects on the folly of his years;
Amid the dawning realisation
That a far greater treasure,
A higher prize than the one he sought,
Had been at home all along;
The chalice of his wife’s heart
Which overflowed with love for him,
Now lost to him forever.
HIvje' bom by Blaidh Nemorlith
Blood tastes,
biting into iron girder,
does not crack teeth
but leaves tang
like drinking venom from wound.
If hit any harder
cup would dent
but it is drunk as well (does not notice)
holds more wine
than any of the fine warriors
clutching at it.
This chalice
is a well of stories
and with every sip,
carefully extracted,
is another tale of honour.
Sing your songs,
wave and salute
with beverage holding flute
and play with pursed lips
its intoxicating dream,
let it fuel you,
stoke the fires of glory,
for when morning comes,
battle done,
and you,
are dead,
will nurse wounds of friend,
and whistle out your gory story.
biting into iron girder,
does not crack teeth
but leaves tang
like drinking venom from wound.
If hit any harder
cup would dent
but it is drunk as well (does not notice)
holds more wine
than any of the fine warriors
clutching at it.
This chalice
is a well of stories
and with every sip,
carefully extracted,
is another tale of honour.
Sing your songs,
wave and salute
with beverage holding flute
and play with pursed lips
its intoxicating dream,
let it fuel you,
stoke the fires of glory,
for when morning comes,
battle done,
and you,
are dead,
will nurse wounds of friend,
and whistle out your gory story.
Heart's Chalice by Ambrozya
As life fades from my inner conciousness
I reach for your heart, which contains a final droplet
An iridescent pearl of elixir
What if we could find on earth
The most sweetest promises
That even heaven can't give
A secret so ancient
That souls have wandered the universe
In its endless search
For the seed of love is garded
In the sacred abode
Of your precious heart
I reach for your heart, which contains a final droplet
An iridescent pearl of elixir
What if we could find on earth
The most sweetest promises
That even heaven can't give
A secret so ancient
That souls have wandered the universe
In its endless search
For the seed of love is garded
In the sacred abode
Of your precious heart