An Alphabet Poem (with no X or Z)
As a child I once was told 'Bout a place with streets of gold Chosen ones will lead the way Down the road from days of old Each one called will come from clay Formed by hands that work and play Guided by their blood-bought fate Heads of tribes they are today (May 2014) In and out of fight and flight Just to freeze up at the sight Keepers of the faith were tricked Looking for some shiny knight Many called, few are picked None shall pass if pride is pricked Open season, hunter's aim Preying once the salt's been licked Queer and quaking stab of shame Rhyme and reason leave the game Step into a song of quest Turn the pointer far from blame Under oath of family crest Visions of the final test Weary walker at the gate Yesteryear is laid to rest (March 2016)