The Pride

The Pride has previously been published in All of Me Vol. VI, courtesy of Shadow Spark Publishing. Featured art is by Chris Allen and Donald Rust.

Listen to The Pride by Richard Charles Stevens

Listen to Warthog Run by Martin O’Donnell and Michael Salvatori

The lion heart brave
Had come such a long way
Felt so much
Whether touched upon pleasure or pain
Endured the endgame of the roughest terrain
And been sure to encourage earth’s reclaim

Famed by some for favouring the sun
Berated by others for relating to the moon
Could have been real gone too soon
Had he based ruminate upon assume
Listened to the whispers indirect to source for they endorsed no true regarded part of crafted bloom
Deconstructing structures on the path of grapevine mused
To remark then on the harshness of perfume

Half his heartbeats spelled out doom
The other half renew
Arteries were fast to bleed to interweave the two
Had to foresee majesty emphatically to scatter seed and reap the harvest massively midst travesty perceived
Had to read the prelude to proceed unto next chapter
Dream the dream to catch a glimpse of princely view and stature

The lion heart brave
Had come such a long way
Yet, never one time had he moved from his place faraway from ill grace and disproportionate fortune
Through no thought presumed
He reinforced the fallen arches
With a penchant for digression
To undress the veins of artist

While cathartic to degree
He felt lethargic to decree
And needed rightly to be seen
To feel remarkably believed
He fell to knees
With eyes to skies
And gazed upon his grazing pride
Twas the most timely of confide
That he was home
Full grown to rise

The precious few had found their voice within this choice green garden bloomed
To remark upon the sweetness of perfume
He would not see this tribe left unmoved
And would run to the sun just to prove
That as sure as his eyes were deep blue
Theirs were grounds built on foundations true
The lion heart brave
Had come such a long way
Here to lounge in the shade
In resounding most bloom
To abound of the many
Where once there were few
To astound
At the unbounded view

The lion heart brave
Had come such a long way
Felt so much
Whether touched upon pleasure or pain
Endured the endgame of the roughest terrain
And been sure to encourage earth’s reclaim

Richard Charles Stevens

Keeper of The Crimson Quill

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© Copyright: Rivers of Grue™ Shadow Spark Publishing™

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