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)