Stanley was walking with his new friend.
He wasn't that talkative, since his life did just end.
Stanley assured him, that he could still live a life.
It maybe one different and perhaps full of strife.
Still there is more to a life, then ones beating heart.
You only need a path and then you can start.
Before when he asked, for the dead man's true name.
He replied with a grunt, just the same.
Stanley's head dipped, with his true failure.
Expecting a grunt, the dead asked if he's a saviour.
The young man's eyes widened, upon such a view.
It seemed his throat was just stuck, like some meat from cold stew.
He spoke in an elegant tongue, for he was a noble.
That he was foresaken, and his life went mobile.
He fought and died, from the blade of his enemy.
A vile knight that served a hegemony.
Stanley followed along with this tale of noble strife.
He was a kid listening to a play, as if this was his life.
Once he was finished he asked a new question.
Why am I alive, do you have a suggestion.
Stanley explained that he commands magic.
Taught by his friend, who's death was indeed tragic.
The knight did understand, but was concerned nonetheless.
He wondered if life had cursed or perhaps was he blessed.
He thought for a time and decided his action.
Will you help me he said, his enemy was a large faction.
Stanley did think, not that long indeed.
Coming to an end, help he would seed.
They both clasped arms, an action of unity.
Accepting each other and seizing opportunity.
He said his name was indeed Sir Neal.
He expressed his desires, his life would heal.
Stanley did smile as wide as can be.
They both looked to the horizon, only one had true glee.
He had found a friend who was missing a part.
There was a hole in his chest, but he knew where to start.
YOU ARE READING
The Adventures Of Stanley - Narrative Poem
PoetryThe strange and wacky adventure of good old medieval peasant Stanley Woodson. Follow along on his epic poetic journey across the land, getting into all manner of strange situations.
