No ratings.
After several months, I am back again. But this time with a poem I hope you like it |
Dazzled by the burning bulbs, burghers, beggars, and kids of all ages walked hastly and swiftly passing by the beasts within the cages. as the doors opened, they entered into the strawberry Coloured tent to bear witness to the blissed event, to the show, and its dreadful feats. Meanwhile, a figure was flying up high tearing with his broad wings through the clouds of the night sky. Legend of the West was his name. A gentle whisper, lingered in his ears, has guided him in his endless journey from the deserts of Arabia to the forested hills of Romania. Like a winter snowflake, his feet touched the ground of the silent alleys of Helvetia, determined to cleanse it from the evil of the lurking demon. A showman with a golden cane, lifting the red curtain on the show of dreams, and a traveller with a blade made of steel standing alone in the cobblestone street. As the magician stood on the wooden stage with his wand beckoning the pupils, a hissing echo was luring the visitor, challenging him to yet another duel. Tapping gently his black top hat and approaching the window with shattered glass, a savage beast emerged from the depths and a white furry bunny jumped on the stand. With a swift hand, one was playing with his cards And one was dodging the deadly fangs. When the chase began on the red tiled rooftops, acrobats pulled their famous stunt. Shooting stars flying freely in the air. As spectators watched with excitement the dance of elf, the lonely moon peeked shyly, witnessing the dance of death. The Strawberry Coloured Tent was no stranger to love and beauty, neither to steel and claw clashing under the strawberry coloured fireworks with an indescribable brutality. The thunderous applause, inside the lantern-lit tent, has silenced chaos and mayhem near the strawberry coloured tent. Bathing in dark blood and out of breath, the showman appeared from behind the curtain. Of the audience warm welcome he was certain. Victorious they were both. Yet, one will live under the spotlight of fame while the other will remain in the shadow of myth and shame. Rivers running down their cheeks, one from eyes screaming with joy whilst the other screaming of regret and pain. Realizing his journey from over was far, he rested above the crowd. A red rose was dangling in his hand. A lady in a white dress was dancing to the melody of the delicate sugar fairy in the strawberry coloured tent. A red rose has fallen on the stage, the remainder of a mysterious figure once called Legend of the West. |