Posted: March 29, 2014 in Riddle Poetry


This, my friends is the tale of the wayfaring stranger
He left a trail of broken hearts and dreams in his wake
Gaping holes in his battered shoes
He came this way to steal our dreams away

He is the frown that murdered the smile
The wrinkle carved beside our eyes
The pouches beneath them
He bends the bones on our back and we thank him for it

Like the Dark eats up the Light in eclipse
He takes the day and gives us night
Even when we run from him
We seem like timid shadows fleeing the sun

A baby is born, A man is murdered
The beginning and end
He gives life and keeps the score
And return scores after to take what he gave

No common ground can be found with this alien
Painting our precious crown, gray
Tilling our fields and razing our forests
We used to be lush and green, now sparse and gray

The tales of the wayfaring stranger
He comes and goes as he sees fit
Breaking our nails and piercing our feet
Ageless and perpetual, a prick

He hurts and heals, makes and breaks
Our bounty harvest
He is the reason for the reaping
Our patient resolve, he tests

Tattered and torn, his clothes are worn
Yet he will not take a rest
Traveling through life at a steady pace
He longs to quench his undying thirst

And now, i lay my pen aside
These quiet words i think aloud
If you still haven’t solved this riddle
You must be as slow as the dung beetle.

The Aventurine.

  1. weasleyify says:

    Big fan of your poetry dear. Superb as always


  2. onoedosio says:

    Jeez…man you dey write!


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