Thread: The Thief

The Thief


There was never a tale quite as tragic,
nevermore a song as sorrow-filled,
'tis the story of a man and his cursed fate,
of a Thief and the man that he killed


The Thief a man made by self merit,
very young when he'd run from his home,
t'was a remembrance he lamented 'pon often,
truly pained was his life lived alone…


His father, an honest and Goodman,
would be ashamed of his son if he knew,
with regret in his eyes the Thief told me,
all of this and what he planned to do…


He'd return to the home of his father,
leave behind this cruel life he had wrought,
saving coin in the following tenday,
so that passage cross-sea might be bought.

He was proud of the choice he was making,
as he smiled and he moved to-ward door,
"A few more to take in dark alley…" he said,
and I'll sail for that long distant shore…"


So he fell upon one after 'nother,
growing close to the coin he would need,
sometimes they would give it up freely,
sometimes they would just have to bleed…
It was near to his goal that it happened,
as he fell an old man with his blade,
without care for the life he had taken,
simply counting what earnings he made…


At last he held coin for the journey!
His victim watched him cheer through weak eyes.
The thief turned to mockingly thank him,
what he found was a terrible surprise.
Gasping in terror he looked on,
to the man who's eyes now neared to shut.
Petrified the Thief looked to dagger,
the wicked blade that so served fatal cut.


When killing the man it was business,
and he went to the task without bother,
but now, as he fell down beside him,
he could mouth, only once, the word "Father"…


In reply, the soon dead whispered, "Hear me,
many years did I travel and roam,
searching all the far lands for my dear son,
since the day, when he left our good home.
And now that I never shall find him,
with my last breath I curse your foul name,
and hope that one day my son finds you,
giving cause sir, for you to whisper this same"…


And with that, the mans life had been ended,
and the Thief sobbed with unfathomed pain,
as he raised that wicked blade to his own throat,
and he started to whisper this same…


"I, Jarod, son of Nathin, do now find you,
and give your last days to the tide.
Your hand has ebbed life of mine father,
I'll watch your blood flow 'til you've died"…


"And I, a lone Thief on his way home,
do now see in your blade darkened sails.
'Tis the black ship you hold in your hands sir,
I've earned the coin to stand by her rails."


As the dagger slipped into the Thief's throat,
as the spray caught his face like the sea,
he granted the old man his last wishes,
"Be home soon dad, and how I curse me."




//Sy

What a stunning, epic poem. This has the feel of an old Ballad that has been sung around campfires for a Hundred years...The rhythmic flow is flawless---add to that a beautifully crafted story and you have an exceptional poem. Oh so well done that you have rendered me almost speechless with awe...Thank you for an unforgettable poem. Peace...Jul

Thank you so much! I really appreciate your taking the time to comment, very kind! Glad this one treated you so well!

Cheers!

//Sy

The pleasure was all mine. I think this poem will haunt me for a long--long time...I truly wish I had written this...Do you mind me asking--what the inspiration for this poem is?? maybe an old childhood folk story or something of that nature ? Peace...Jul

Thanks so much!

I think I was reading a fantasy book at the time... likely something from the WotC line, Forgotten Realms or the like... I think that's where I stole the term 'tenday' from, a sub for 'week' that I found interesting. I thought of the story itself on my own, but those books certainly flavored the piece. Thanks for asking

Cheers,

//Sy