Fate Delivers Its Promised Bitter Cup

Fate Delivers Its Promised Bitter Cup He sat shackled, days and nights now a daze, Doom and gloom, now spoke in whispered tones. Once dashing, ladies in a swooning craze Each day he became more a wasted bone Upon heaving chest, gasps of his sorrows, Sparse food and water with no needed rest. His weeping soul prayed for no tomorrows Despair, he had failed battle's greatest test. Sword and armor now ancient broken heap, He questioned why, last huge battle was lost. Not thinking, as you sow, so shall you reap Each death plea, heart knew its punishing cost. Prison bars, filtered in freedom's light, Fleeting rays, spoke of sacrifice and pain. Worse, sad and quiet loneliness each night And knowing he could not remove that stain. Having heard his battle-horse had been killed, His tears flowed as if for a long lost friend. By very best they were trained and were skilled He passionately prayed for that same end! Dawn came, his prayer answered that sad morn Marched to a massive tree and there tied up. His mind spoke, for this sad Fate, you were born Rejoice, bravery gifts this bitter cup! Robert J. Lindley, 1-25-2017 Note- Written this morn, after reading the great poem, (The Captive), 1840, composed by the great Russian poet, Mikhail Lermontov... In sincerest hopes that this tribute poem, may have done that gem some justice.... Syllables Per Line: 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 Total # Syllables: 240 Total # Words: 187