(Click picture above to view a larger image.)
 

Olarov and the Rider
by Lee Daniel Guest

 

The moon, once bright and high in the sky,
Began to shake and sink;

The wolves grew silent, the great bears shook,
And Olarov dared not blink.

On his trail for weeks and months,
The spectral rider followed;

Olarov saw him closer now,
And in his fear he wallowed.

The once-distant struggle before him now,
Olarov raised his sword,

Crashing blows rained through the night,
Strumming a mighty chord.

At daybreak Olarov longed for the sun,
And looked to see it high;

But blood clouded his vision now,
And blotted out the sky.

One problem troubled Olarov’s thoughts,
With no solution; though he tried,

Though the Rider had given no defense,
It was Olarov who had died.



Poem and artwork copyright 2002 by Lee Daniel Guest ldguest@btinternet.com



Back to Table of Contents