The Wandering Bard

Not Like the Songs

I've  wandered far, near all my life,

I've  done a thing or two.

I've  gathered tales I'm meant to tell,

A  few were even true

But  there's more to this treasure trove,

I've  hid behind my smile,

Some  wisdoms that I've gleaned from life,

I'll  share in just a while.

I  earn my keep with words and songs,

Some  favorites, some brand new.

With  epic tales of battles won

On  which boys love to chew.

With  knights of skill, both black and white,

Depending  on which side

Of  bravery in the face of odds

From  which the craven ride.

When  I was young,

I  went to war And saw the butcher's bill.

I  weighed the cost to every soul

When  he was forced to kill.

I  carry scars upon my soul,

No  matter what they say,

But  still I buy my bread and bed

With  hero songs I play.

Front  and center in these songs,

A  hero standing tall.

He  never twinges in the breach,

His  foes are never small.

He'll  thrust and block when endless strength,

He'll  banter, rage and sneer.

And  when the dross is laid to rest,

It's  he for whom all cheer.

In  epic sagas that I tale,

One  almost hears the steel.

While  those who have survived the fight

May  see as less than real.

No  one who wars, returns untouched,

Unscathed  by Ares blades.

Not  all the wounds have surface scars

Whose  pain more quickly fades.

I've  oft conversed with those who lived,

Survived  the worst men do.

I  hear the tales they cannot tell,

I've  lived through their hell too.

The  bulk of war falls to the young,

Especially  toward the end.

They  came with thoughts to match the deeds

Heroic  stories vend.

One  wide-eyed lad confessed to me,

And  prayed me never tell.

He  felt disgraced he shat himself

And  pissed his pants as well.

Isaid,  " Young Sir, please have a care

To  how you see that time.

Real  life's not like the songs portray,

To  think so is a crime."

Richard  Higley © April 20, 2016