Welcome to Moondustwriter Thursday

The Path of the Discarded

A Poem by

Moondustwriter

She was on a quest

It wasn't far

nor arduous

Though some may have thought her the fool

She was on a quest to regain her heart

It had been stolen long ago

*

By a knight who neither wanted nor cared

about the love of a sweet maiden fair

Like a tarnished

worthless trophy

he cast it aside

when he found another

along the pathway of life

*

The heartless knight

left a trail of used, unwanted hearts

She discovered them on her way

Too many to carry

Some swept away

She wept for them

Touched each one tenderly

with a tear

*

Many were still beating

"Oh dear

what must I do?"

She asked of no one there

The response was clear

"Save what is left"

*

She went

purposefully on her way

careful to stay

on the path of the discarded

She scooped them

tenderly into her skirt

*

Her quest became long

more difficult

she wasn't that strong

The hearts became heavy to bear

one day she would find each maiden

whose heart had been taken

restore what remained

*

One morning she awoke with a song

She sang it for all of nature to hear

It was beautiful and painfully clear

It told of a love that had been stolen one day

Hurt, once there, had been rolled away

*

She didn't see nor did she hear

Someone quick approaching

So silent

She heard nothing draw near

She stood plainly

her skirt billowed like a standard

Hands encircled

 many hearts he saw there

*

He beamed down on this rare beauty

 intent on loving others

She had been his quest for so long now

Had met many careless

tiresome young things

along the pathway of searching

*

He scooped her in his arms

Her heavy burdens and all

Her broken heart

there was no trace

A star-like smile

beamed on each face

***

He aided her

in her quest

to return each

faint

broken heart

He replaced hers

with something more lasting

Devoted love 

Forever

I was inspired to write this piece based on a picture prompt of a knight I wrote about earlier. The romantic in me took over.

My question for the week: What part does a visual image play as you are writing?

Thanks for joining Moondustwriter Thursday. I'm looking forward to highlighting more poets in the weeks to come.

Thank you to Reza for the photograph

http://www.flickr.com/photos/r-z/24434403711*

One Shot Wednesday: A Place to Share Your Poems

Welcome to One Shot Wednesday - where you get to highlight your poetic talents

I’m  Adam Dustus, and I'll be your host for the poetic festivities. Since it was so much fun hosting OSW last month, I jumped at the opportunity to substitute for Leslie this week! The support and energy for One Shot Wednesday has been great, and I'm glad to be a part of it. With that being said, here's a quick recap of how One Shot works:

1. Write a poetic piece & post it on your blog

2. Then let us know about your post. Link back to One Shot

3. Sign up in the Mr Linky list, linking directly to your post, AFTER you've posted it.

4. Go visit others who have signed up! Offer support & encouragement. Share your love of words and insight respectfully. Please try to visit as many participating poets as you can. We all could use and appreciate kind feedback.

Lastly, all forms of poetry are accepted for One Shot Wednesday. Everyone is welcome.

Cheers.
Adam 

8:15 on Tuesday: prose by Brian Miller

8:15 on Tuesday...

the sun, already making its majesty known, in the sky, passing through pink and orange, unveils a soft blue over the lush green canopy of the forest behind our house. pops and creaks of the wood deck, settling from an evening stretch, accompanies the twitter of birds, in a curious serenade to the new day.

a family of deer shyly poke their heads between trees, then cautiously step across the lawn to nibble at cast off grapes beneath the arbor that stands at the end of the brick path off the back of our house. at their nuzzling, butterflies stir from the vines, performing a dance, dipping and turning.

pungent coffee perfumes the air, rising in waves from my mug, as i draw its warmth through my fingers. this is the moment i realise i have forgotten you.

the sudden realization starts a hammer against the anvil of my chest, a great squeeze grips my heart, crumbling it like paper bound for the trashcan. i want to retreat to the bedroom, to curl on the floor beside the bed, still wrapped in my clothes, closing my eyes to see if i can find you, but i stay, fear of finding nothing pinning to my seat.

you are a fog, barely perceived, there one moment then gone. i tremble, unable to even conjure your face. the touch of your hand, i once relished, erased. all the words once spoken, lay in a jumbled pile in the corner of my mind. i am utterly alone, as the morning unfolds around me, anxious that may you have forgotten me as well at...

...8:15 on Tuesday.

~Brian