Coming of Age
In the chapel wherein he laid
His final moments here on earth,
Mirrored image of one’s boyhood
Stands he to claim his scabbard blade,
The chance to prove his manhood.
His mother chides him of his birth
Begs her the need to prove his worth,
His load is heavy the mist swirls
With sword in hand a stab he hurls,
Choice of opponent augurs well
For his father’s champion fell.
Mortal flame in constant bedeck
Life’s been a tombstone round his neck,
Needs the journey for which to trek.
His thirst for blood flows from many
Greed for gold and silver penny,
His ships glide portly on the tide
Needs to be by his mother’s side.
A man he thinks he has become
Yet all the folk at home had fled,
No one listens to his humdrum
When he returns to find her dead!
© Harry J Horsman 2020
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
