Hate will never pass the test

Very old and very long

Along a winding weaving road

with trees now half past tall

A rooster sits atop his perch

to sing his morning call

 

But there upon a twisted branch

behind the barnyard fence

A creature sits and lies in wait

at everyone’s expense

 

With feathers black, a beak of gold

and claws to hold on tight

I’ve never seen his like before

It’s such an awful sight

 

I did my best ignoring him

but oh those beady eyes

They followed every move I made,

my fear I can’t disguise

 

When then I heard a scratchy voice

like echoes in the field

or nails upon a blackboard dragged,

that awful sound they yield

 

“I hear you are a poet sir,

let’s have a verse or two”

I just kept walking right on past,

I’ve many things to do

 

“Like Shakespeare or that Cohen guy,

I’m told you are so good

Come on recite a stanza now,

I really wish you would”

 

“I never mentioned poetry,

I never said a word

I don’t know where your facts come from

or anything you’ve heard”

 

“You said you were a poet sir

I know that’s what you said

The words you spoke the other day

they rattle in my head”

 

“No such thing was mentioned here

Why do you spread such lies

Just leave me be and fly on off

to someone else’s skies”

 

I started running down the path

but he just flapped his wings

Pecking at my shoulders bare

and many other things

 

I ran, I fell, I skinned my knee

He laughed and wore a smile

“You can’t fool me, I know your type,

I recognize your style”

 

“The greatest poet in the world,

there only can be one

And I am he and don’t forget,

now get along and run”

 

I stopped beneath a big oak tree

and tried to catch my breath

My body it was shaking still,

he scared me half to death

 

I pulled my notebook to my lap,

my hand it held the pen

And started writing poetry,

my love for her again

 

When then I looked above my place,

the branches filled with birds

They watched as I was writing this,

they chirped at every word

 

“Don’t let that old crow bother you”

I heard their voices say

“He wants to be the only one,

that’s why he acts this way”

 

“Just keep on writing poetry,

your verses are the best

Be yourself, you’re doing fine,

to that we can attest”

 

“There’ll always be someone like him

that tries to pull you down

But worry not, just wear a smile

in place of that old frown”

 

So that I did, I wrote and wrote

and didn’t have a care

So I could always send my love

to you I long to share

 

I penned for you a poem of

affections written deep

Hoping that close to your heart

my words you’d always keep

 

When then again I heard that voice,

my day then turned to night

“I see you’re writing poetry,

I knew that I was right”

 

“I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do,

we’ll put it to a test

You write yours and I’ll write mine,

we’ll see who is the best”

 

I closed my eyes and thought of us,

my mind held such a view

I wrote some lines of perfect prose

to say that I love you

 

He scratched and clawed upon his pad

and with an evil grin

He tossed the page down on the ground

and said, “Let’s go, begin”

 

I read the words that he did write

and if I must confess

I didn’t understand a thing,

his poem was a mess

 

Several lines of gibberish,

hate in every breath

Calling names of everyone,

he even threatened death

 

And then he read my offering,

a look came on his face

His feathers black had turned to ash,

his head hung in disgrace

 

For love shall win out every time 

in ink of gentle flow

“Go spew your hatred someplace else,

it’s time for you to go”

 

I watched him as he flew away,

a sulking fading bird

On silent wings he disappeared,

he uttered not a word

 

I often walk along that path

but now I wear a smile

For I’m still writing poetry

in my romantic style

 

Though I will not forget that day

as these words come to mind

“Hate will never pass the test,

it’s better to be kind”

Author's Note

Thanks for reading if you stopped by.

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Hate may never pass this way again...
this almost sounds Shakespeare vs. Marlowe ....

who is the best....I never look at poetry as competition....but others do sometimes.
Best we just all support each other, afterall; we are all we have.

[willweb]

I agree, we truly are all we have in the world of poetry. This was my, poetic and poem related version of "The Devil went down to Georgia" The entire poem started with the last two lines in mind and just kind of ended up this way.

[DIVYA]

Yay! Love wins once again!
What a great story, so imaginatively told and written.
The rhyming and meter is perfect too and the imegery is absolutely delightful.
I so appreciate this poem, dear Willweb.
Beautifully crafted!

[willweb]

Thanks so much Divya. It is an older poem but yours from yesterday reminded me of it, not the theme but the story like poetry. Yours was amazing so I thought I would toss mine out there.

[DIVYA]

As a friend, I'm proud of this poem of yours, dear Willweb! I think we should encourage longer efforts too. It's awesome to read! Keep posting and I'll keep trying too.
Have a lovely evening. 😊

[John the Baptist]

Well, Mr. Poe's black bird was a gloomy sucker, but at least he wasn't combative. This one, however, is a brawler, especially if he fears another poet can outdo him. When it came to eyeball to eyeball and pen to pen, however, he couldn't cut the mustard. His gutter utterings fell far short of the speaker's love poem, and he was reduced to ash. Very good sustained rhyming here.

[willweb]

Thanks so much John. Yep, the Black Bird wasn't happy where he was and decided to invade my poem.

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Enraptured, captured, held. This narrative poem is wonderful! I was hooked from beginning until the end. Love this!

[willweb]

Thank you so much Linda, I am happy you had a little fun with my lengthy poetic story here. I appreciate your visit.