Unwanted
by Nathan Marchand
By sweat and toil,
I dug through rock and dirt
Until at last I found the gem,
The rarest and most precious jewel.
I rushed from the cave, overjoyed.
I hurried to meet my Beauty,
And gave it to Her.
But with sad eyes, She rejected my gift.
So, I watched Her walk away,
Leaving me all alone
As my tears fell, staining the cracked gem.
It’s been a long time since I posted any new material on this website. It’s been mostly news these last few months. So I decided to post a poem. It’s entitled “Never Christmas.” I posted it because it will soon be Christmas, but I must tell you it is a sad poem at worst, or a melancholy one at best. I do hope you will appreciate it for what it is, perhaps even identify with it in some way.
You can read it below or click the title in the above paragraph. Pleas enjoy.
Never Christmas
By Nathan Marchand
I walked down the empty street,
And along trotted a horse pulling an open sleigh,
Wherein rode two lovers, lost in each other,
Bathed in a rainbow of Christmas lights.
Cheeks met in a snuggle,
Snowflakes were brushed away by a caress,
Ears were tickled by whispered sweet nothings,
Lips were warmed with a kiss like fire.
I watched, and my heart was frozen
By the icy winds of loneliness,
Yet it wasn’t numb to the pang of longing,
Where Lost Love had pierced with dagger.
I’ve no one to warm my heart,
Where it’s never Christmas, only winter.
I’d trade all my gifts for a sweetheart!
A Transformer for a hand to hold!
A Blu-Ray for a sweet nothing!
A Playstation 3 for a kiss!
A plasma TV for a pledge of undying love.
Alas, it is all for naught.
So I watched as the lovers, horse, and sleigh
Vanished into the mists of the winter night.
I was again, as usual, cold and alone.
For me, it’s never Christmas, only winter.
A Man Out of Time
By Nathan Marchand
I was born too late
I should’ve been born a millennia ago
During the days of knights
When a man distinguished himself serving God, king, and country
And won fair maiden’s heart with his chivalry
Because men living by honor were envied by all
I should’ve been born five centuries ago
During the days of Reformation
When men risked even death for the Truth
A Truth worth all the beatings, hangings, and burnings
A Truth that offered True Life to all
I should’ve been born two-and-a-half centuries ago
During the days of Revolution
When colonists banded together and forged a nation
When patriotism was a virtue
And examples of heroes left for generations to come
I should’ve been born seven decades ago
During the days of heroes beating back the darkness
When warriors died for the Dream or returned as heroes
When men were praised for sacrificial service
And defended the right of others to criticize their work
Mine is a time of cynics
When pessimism is the path to “enlightenment,”
Good men are sought for destruction, their virtue assassinated,
Heroes are shunned, their callings spat on,
And hopeless hearts are exploited
I am a man out of time,
A romantic among cynics,
A warrior among cowards,
A light in darkness,
Carrying the ideals of times past
Only to meet with Rejection
And give my heart this era’s bitter waters
Yet will I fight for freedom, Life, and ideals,
For God, king, and country
Never retreating, never surrendering until victory is won
Like the men who went ahead of me
Before my delayed birth.
I am a man out of time born at the right time
Valor’s Heart
by Nathan Marchand
Endure! Endure!
Though burning arrows pierce my chest,
Poisoned swords cut my side,
And traitors’ knives stab my back.
Yet will my Valor’s Heart,
a gift of my King,
Fight on.
Hold the line! Hold the line!
Let not the Enemy advance
To steal, kill, and destroy!
I hold back the black torrent
As red rain pelts my face.
He shall not pass so long
As my Valor’s Heart beats.
I fall! I fall!
To my knees, sword in hand,
Stained with my crimson life-blood
Mingled with my Foe’s black blood.
My strength is spent, my time has come
To exit this stormy stage.
The Enemy laughs as his
black sword plunges into my chest
But though he slays me
My Valor’s Heart still boom-boom-booms
Like a war drum drowning the battle’s thunder,
Summoning my King’s warriors to the line,
the Enemy of my Soul shuttering at their battlecry.
Rest now, rest.
I return to my King
But Death has lost his victory,
His sting is dull.
And my Valor’s Heart,
a gift of my King,
Still rallies His warriors
’round its thunder.
Glimpse
by Nathan Marchand
Gaze upon her and you will see
A fragment of Divine Beauty,
A gift bestowed to Creation
So Man might look upon Woman
And catch a glimpse of Eternity.
Coma
by Nathan Marchand
I lie upon a deathbed,
My life-thread pulled taut against
The edge of the Fates’ knife.
Scorned by the hellcats and scoundrels
Who beat me and left me to die,
I cling to life thanks only to
The brave and persecuted few
Who still love me.
I am Chivalry,
And I am not dead, but asleep.