No Disrespect Intended
In a room by the stairs I was kept,
and by kept, what I mean, you should know,
is imprisoned by men while I slept,
tied and beaten, face kneaded like dough.
As you hear my tale told I see doubt.
Would you listen until it’s told out?
As a boy I was taught not to lie.
I unlearned that as quick as I could.
Though the truth rode both mighty and high,
doing well galloped faster than good.
You may think that I’m parsing too fine,
but it’s right I should keep what is mine.
What I own, you may argue, I stole,
and in this I will tell you the truth:
My defense isn’t strong, on the whole,
but I always was nothing but couth.
I believe manners always reflect
on the image one wants to project.
When I first took the shadowier way
I approached a rich man in the night.
With my dagger positioned to slay,
I said, “Sir, let me do what is right.”
He surrendered his wallet, of course,
and I left him that night on his horse.
Not long later, need found me at work;
I had entered a home by the park
of a famously dishonest clerk.
Was I wrong to use dark against dark?
I made haste and made off with his things
but one can’t make a dinner of rings.
What I started to say before that
was that even when robbing a thief
I said “please” as I lifted his mat,
and I thanked him in silent relief.
While I might have killed him and his wife,
I would never have cut with my knife.
I found need to sell things I had found,
an essential if unpleasant task.
In so doing, my skein came unwound,
as until then I’d always been masked.
Was I foolish to offer my trust?
With no options, I knew that I must.
In the end, as you surely have guessed,
it was he who collected reward
when the toll against me was assessed.
I was taken with truncheon and sword.
In a cell, it’s one’s job to make free
or succumb to a rope and a tree.
So the blade in my hand is not mine,
though possession is law it is said,
and while blood has diminished its shine,
it’s the first that I’ve been forced to shed.
I’m as gentle as any you’ll meet,
but good sir, we must both be discrete.
You’ve been gracious to listen to me
and I thank you for all of your time
but I really must go soon, you see,
and the things that were yours are now mine.
I insist, though, I beg, I implore:
Sir, could you give me some more?
Cassie: I throw out something in rhyme and meter every so often just for you. No, I'm not kidding.
Let this be a lesson to me: Don't write a question that suggests tedious format AND tedious content at the same time. Keeps people away. lol
HH: Thank you, I didn't see the double-found, and you are freaking RIGHT, that makes ME crazy, too. As to the ending, you seem to have chosen to believe the man will not kill, when he begins his story by saying the first thing he ever gave up was honesty, and who happens to be holding a bloody blade. Maybe your faith in him is well-placed... I gotta say, I wouldn't bet that way. Suspenseful, ain't it?
Yesu: Anapestic trimeter, ABABCC on each stanza, as I don't have to tell you, I suppose. Just playing, but it *was* fun. Made up the story as I went, focused on jauntiness to match the da-da-DAH da-da-DAH rhythm.
In a room by the stairs I was kept,
and by kept, what I mean, you should know,
is imprisoned by men while I slept,
tied and beaten, face kneaded like dough.
As you hear my tale told I see doubt.
Would you listen until it’s told out?
As a boy I was taught not to lie.
I unlearned that as quick as I could.
Though the truth rode both mighty and high,
doing well galloped faster than good.
You may think that I’m parsing too fine,
but it’s right I should keep what is mine.
What I own, you may argue, I stole,
and in this I will tell you the truth:
My defense isn’t strong, on the whole,
but I always was nothing but couth.
I believe manners always reflect
on the image one wants to project.
When I first took the shadowier way
I approached a rich man in the night.
With my dagger positioned to slay,
I said, “Sir, let me do what is right.”
He surrendered his wallet, of course,
and I left him that night on his horse.
Not long later, need found me at work;
I had entered a home by the park
of a famously dishonest clerk.
Was I wrong to use dark against dark?
I made haste and made off with his things
but one can’t make a dinner of rings.
What I started to say before that
was that even when robbing a thief
I said “please” as I lifted his mat,
and I thanked him in silent relief.
While I might have killed him and his wife,
I would never have cut with my knife.
I found need to sell things I had found,
an essential if unpleasant task.
In so doing, my skein came unwound,
as until then I’d always been masked.
Was I foolish to offer my trust?
With no options, I knew that I must.
In the end, as you surely have guessed,
it was he who collected reward
when the toll against me was assessed.
I was taken with truncheon and sword.
In a cell, it’s one’s job to make free
or succumb to a rope and a tree.
So the blade in my hand is not mine,
though possession is law it is said,
and while blood has diminished its shine,
it’s the first that I’ve been forced to shed.
I’m as gentle as any you’ll meet,
but good sir, we must both be discrete.
You’ve been gracious to listen to me
and I thank you for all of your time
but I really must go soon, you see,
and the things that were yours are now mine.
I insist, though, I beg, I implore:
Sir, could you give me some more?
Cassie: I throw out something in rhyme and meter every so often just for you. No, I'm not kidding.
Let this be a lesson to me: Don't write a question that suggests tedious format AND tedious content at the same time. Keeps people away. lol
HH: Thank you, I didn't see the double-found, and you are freaking RIGHT, that makes ME crazy, too. As to the ending, you seem to have chosen to believe the man will not kill, when he begins his story by saying the first thing he ever gave up was honesty, and who happens to be holding a bloody blade. Maybe your faith in him is well-placed... I gotta say, I wouldn't bet that way. Suspenseful, ain't it?
Yesu: Anapestic trimeter, ABABCC on each stanza, as I don't have to tell you, I suppose. Just playing, but it *was* fun. Made up the story as I went, focused on jauntiness to match the da-da-DAH da-da-DAH rhythm.