A Man Made of Stone is an original narrative poem I wrote specially for the blog. Please enjoy it, and if you’d like, share your thoughts in the comment section below:
A Man Made of Stone
by Benjamin J. Law
There once was a man made of stone;
he was born in ancient times,
to a house in the fields of its kingdom.
Though his mother was wise,
and his father was strong,
they feared greatly the sight of their son.
They hid their child away, inside the house,
and they named him Phobos,
a Greek namesake, a god from the clouds.
Every day was Phobos kept inside,
until nightfall when he’d work the fields—
unseen, and stronger than the moon was bright.
So went on the days of Phobos,
who never sweat and never bled,
who did not complain nor weep,
who lifted the horses from their tired feet,
who bested the oxen in every feat,
who was never seen except by moonlight.
Beyond the fields where Phobos reaped and sowed,
there was trouble mounting against the crown:
The Queen was to be besieged,
by a war king called The Maliced Knight.
The Maliced Knight was known to all but Phobos—
until came his twenty-fifth birthday night.
His rock hands were covered in mud,
the rain soaking the fields he worked,
when he looked up to see the bloody horizon,
now cast in dark shadows that moved with force.
The Maliced Knight had come, over hill and stream,
on a road that led to the fields of Phobos and his house.
His mother wise and father strong,
they ushered him into their home, hiding away,
but there still came a knock at the door:
And the father strong answered with care,
but The Maliced Knight, dressed in the shadows,
struck down the father of Phobos with only one blow.
And the dark knight rode with his army into the night,
leaving Phobos and his mother to weep,
kneeling in the pool of blood left behind.
Phobos rose then, and set for the door,
blessing his mother with a rock’s kiss upon the head,
before he vanished into the harsh moonlight.
Upon the Queen’s castle, in dead of night,
descended the droves of armored soldiers,
all following behind The Maliced Knight.
They slaughtered and rampaged and pillaged,
taking all that was and would be—
and ripping the castle grounds into shreds.
No Queen did they find until nigh on daybreak,
when The Maliced Knight found the castle’s height,
finding too the lonesome Queen on the tower’s bluff.
She watched the evil eyes of her attacker,
who approached with tearful laughter,
and he raised his blade to strike her down—
But the Queen wouldn’t die by this knight’s hand;
she stepped from the bluff, plummeting down,
nearly reaching the ground, but not quite:
For she was caught by a hideous sight.
Phobos saved the Queen from her own demise,
and setting her down, he continued through castle gates.
None truly know the facts of that night…
Some say that Phobos was aided by the gods,
some say that he was aided only by his own might.
This is all that’s known absolutely:
At the hands of Phobos did every last soldier fall—
dripping from his hands was the blood of any and all.
When lastly The Maliced Knight came to meet this man,
when he finally saw the grey, unsightly skin of rock,
cracked and dry but strong as an ox,
he laughed and jeered, his sword slick with blood,
and he approached Phobos without fear.
Phobos stood still and waited, letting his enemy come.
“It is I,” said Phobos when finally he could,
but The Maliced Knight laughed yet again.
“It is who?” he asked in high mockery and spite.
“I whose father you have struck in cold blood—“
“I who stands for no Queen or land—“ said Phobos.
“It is I who will see you reaped like the fields.”
And under the pale dusk sky, Phobos attacked.
He stood strong and wise against The Maliced Knight.
And as he ripped the knight’s sword to shreds,
as he pounded his enemy into puddles of blood,
as he descended upon him with the force of an army,
the sun rose, shining upon Phobos for the first and only time…
Thanks for stopping by the site and giving this week’s blog post a read! If you enjoyed it, then don’t forget to like this post and follow the blog for more. You can also feel free to share your thoughts in the comment section below.
Want to read more? You can read the last poem I posted here: When We Were Kids.
I also post occasional short stories, most recently War and Famine and It Comes When It Needs To. To check out my collection of books available now in paperback and eBook format, click here.
Have a great week!
Weekly Writing Prompt:
The sun rose, blistering, over the desert of my people, but it was not greeted kindly–not today…