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Sean D Rasmussen

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Knight With No Name
by Sean D Rasmussen

Sunday, March 30, 2003

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Recent poems by Sean D Rasmussen
•  Dust Bunnies at Play
•  Beware of the Dust Bunnies
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•  Dust Bunny Dream (the Balloon)
           >> View all 112

In the midst of winter, under a starry night,
sits the knight with no name upon his horse of white.
A thousand battles has he seen, a thousand blood soaked fields,
countless warriors bourne away upon their own red shields.

His coal black eyes survey the field, now peaceful in moonlight,
and he names the names of those who will fall, in the mornings fight.
Silently he adds the names to those that are already dead,
a countless list of fallen is compiled within his head.

His face holds no emotion, under helm of black,
giving no thought to the legions waiting to attack.
He knows the snow will be red with blood ,when comes the early dawn.
He knows the dead will one day return, when the Earth sings its final song.

No sword holds the nameless knight, no quiver, or no bow.
Without weapon and with no shield into this battle will he go.
Riding wildly into the fray, a nameless knight without remorse,
but no living man will see this knight, who rides the bone white horse.

He watches each man intently, knowing each of their fears,
if they meet their fate defiantally, or cowering in their tears.
No judgement does this knight make, on honor or bravery,
the purest of heart do meet him as do those steeped in villiany.

Now the nameless knight merely sits, watches and does wait,
on the future battlefield where many will meet their fate.
Breathing in the cold cool air, in the starry night,
the nameless knight in black armor, upon his horse of white.






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Reviewed by Elizabeth Taylor (Reader) 3/30/2003
Nicely done.
Love these stories.
Reviewed by john zimmerman 3/30/2003
chooser-of-the-slain is one of his names

good write

john+
Reviewed by Sandie Angel 3/30/2003
Funny about one night last week, I dreamt a ghostly knight in black armour, arising from a corner of a room, chased after some people, asking who has killed him. People denied killing him.

So he (this spirit) became a woman in black dress, stood at a corner of a street, and a little white terrier dog, loyal kept fetching her something from the house.

And inside the house, people were saying how loyal the dog was - even after the woman was dead, he was still loyally fetching her something from the house...

I'm sorry, all my dreams are weird. I alwasy dream so weird that sometimes I would make them into stories.

Your mentioning about a nameless knight in black armour has made me think of my dream. Perhaps the knight should think about the innocent women who died in the battlefield.

Just a thought about linking this with my dream.....

Sandie Angel :o) a.k.a. May Lu $*_*$
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