The Thief's Trial

[Magekind]

I intend on putting the entire anthology of poems that make up this story as I invent them. After writing the first two installments, I've decided to put it on CAA, just to see what you all think of it.

The Thief's Trial

Now rise the sun on prison scum,
and ye behold this thief.
Who thru the night all pity-like
plead thus unto his king:
"My life ye spare, for wrongs I've done
not for my sake nor good;
But for my ailing friends I've sought
this cursing men call food.
And lo, I'd but have kept my paths,
and not have gone astray,
Had not the guards and keepers-of-law
called out my name that day.
And follow certainly I must,
lest had they found my den;
'Twas not a case of wanderlust
that put me in thy pen.
Now see my folly, hear my plea,
penitence on my lips;
That my dear friends again I see
Who'd flee from smack of whip."

Next up, part 2.

[Magekind]

Now for part 2

The Thief's Trial, Part 2

Then still the court and silence fell
The words considered he
Who oversees his land and still
Unto his people king.
"Tonight a-prison shall ye rest,
Remaining there the day.
And on the morrow, acid test
Your loyalties display.
For child mine has streetward moved
And at the inn she'll sleep
Now bid unto you, ere you've proved
In safety she ye'll keep."
Now silence falling once again,
Broken by moving chains.
Unto his rest he went to keep,
And fear the coming day.

[Icarus]

I would really like to see the rest of this.

[Jasdero]

Yeah!!! Old English!!! Very good poem. I like that it's a story.... ::applause::

[Jaltus-bot]

Yeah, this is good.

[Magekind]

I'm working on part 3. Kinda lost as to how and where I should put the rhyming, now that the conversation's over. I'll figure something out.

[Magekind]

I may be reworking this a few times, but here's part 3

The Thief's Trial, Part 3

Now rise the sun, as once I've said
Upon this lowly thief;
And lo he rises to his fate
And to his promise keep.
The day now passes, hot and dry
The thief his charge well keeps;
And now the darkness coming nigh
And monarch's child sleeps.
Still at the inn our hero stands
He watches at her door,
And keeps the outer walls as well
His promise keeps, no more.
Then in the night, a wail arise
From in the darkened room
This hero unto charge now flies,
And sees not but his doom.
The night obscures, but not so much
as to never give a glimpse.
Our hero only can he cry,
And curse those evil imps.

No greater effort could he give,
No more could he exert
To ascertain that she would live,
Returning home unhurt.
But now he kneels beside her bed,
Her fate to soon be known
To pine for one that now is dead
Thus coming soon his own.
And rises now the morrow's sun,
This thief back in his cell.
The king's tears dry, and now he comes
To give the sentence fell.
Need more be said? There rolls the head
Of this misfortuned thief.
Who gave his best, but now is dead
For causing royal grief.
Too long have I now taken
To tell you of this thing,
Yet we know that he'll find justice
In the courts of a greater King.

The first poem ever I've done wherein a character dies....
The second poem I've ever done wherein a story is told, and oddly enough, the second ever done in middle-English style.

[Magekind]

Er... parts three and four. I need to split those differently than I have.

EDIT: There, that's better. They're about evenly sized, now.

[Magekind]

Alright, since I'm posting my poetry, I may as well post my original... wait, this was actually the second poem I ever wrote.

Stillholde Grove

Still stands the tree, and stiller the rock.
O, hearest they not the lifeless man's talk?
Are they deaf to the winds, whose sad, low song,
Informs us yet, of ages long gone?
Nay, it be not so! The mourn they heed,
and know how the fighting man's soul was freed.
They know the wind, its sad, low cry,
that tells of nations who soon shall die.
And though they stand with breathless still,
these memories in them forever they seal.
So gone in the future, as soon in the past,
The hundreds of years they've been blessed to last,
and thousands they have yet to see,
'Til earth shall pass to eternity.

[Icarus]

Wonderful.

[Anna Mae]

Wow. Your poems are really good!

[Hari]

Wow!

That's awesome! It is almost humorous in some ways (please don't take that comment as "she's laughing at me," because I'm not -- the drama was well appreciated!), particularly the way the first line runs... "Now rise the sun on prison scum," it is good, but made me smile and wonder if it was going to go in a humorous direction.

"Now rise the sun, as once I've said
Upon this lowly thief;"

I really like that line. It pulls it together, without being annoying or repetitive, and reminds you where the story/poem is set. I'm so jealous, I am the ultimate un-poet. It's a sad state of affairs.

I enjoyed Stillholde Grove, too, particularly the phrase "and stiller the rock." That is so good! That line I can get into as a prose writer, too, because of it's almost paradoxical structure. The rock is doing less, so it is more still than the tree, so does that make it more less? Maybe I'm sounding like an English major now, but I wanted to give you somewhat detailed feedback.

OK, talk to you later!