RENAISSANCE
Jonas Hyde

Now available for purchase in paperback for only $11.99.

From heartfelt tales such as Lament for Lady Beth, to epic fables such as Seraph’s Song, the classical narrative poetry of Jonas Hyde is reminiscent of times of old.  Renaissance is a call out to those times, when story telling was an art, and life beat within the words on pace with your own breath.  So sit back and enjoy these poetic works by Jonas Hyde, and find yourself become a part of the Renaissance.

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Eyes open,
as if a rising sun,
over a horizon of anguish,
of sorrow.

“Daughter do not frown,
for on this day
the family is as one,”
he whispers softly.

“But father I weep,
I cry,
not for the moment I have,
but for the time when it will surely end.”

And so it goes,
the conversation once more,
as it always has before,
truth rarely spoken.

The snow has fallen,
and gifts are done,
but the scene is far from idyllic,
framed within the pain of our lives.

Holiday’s eve brought with it,
hurt,
anger,
as every night ‘fore

So I hold her close,
my arms wrapping her
in a paternal blanket woven for a lifetime,
of warmth and protection.

Together we pose,
heads behind the masques of seasonal cheer
hiding simply,
our holiday tears.

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Originally posted 2009-09-13 02:59:09.

Take my hand,
my love,
my dear,
and cry not this eve.

For through the fog,
I will take you,
take you by your hand,
and through the darkness lead.

The sun may set,
but light shall e’er shine,
the beacon of our love,
my heart you’ll receive.

So look to the sky,
beyond the eventide,
and wish ‘pon the twinkle of the stars,
for in the them you shall find,
a love that will ne’er leave.

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Originally posted 2009-09-13 04:02:19.

Oh life, my life, this is my sorrow,
oh death, my death, can you offer me no pity?
If only I were more guile or more witty,
I would surely wake in the ‘morrow.

At the start I fell to Tempter’s ploy,
and in the while since have truly lost it all.
Fact it hurts, so my tale I’d rather not recall,
for my life, the Tempter did destroy.

Tho’ ‘fore I cause my end, let me start,
because the story of my folly must be told.
Little did I know my happiness would be sold,
since what I had sought, was of true heart.

But even desires born of good,
can sire for eternity, lasting torment.
And the lessons since learned I presently lament,
are choices I’d rescind if I could.

My story starts nearly a year past,
on a night ravaged by tempest of wind and snow.
My love and I were alone, warmed by the soft glow,
of a fire that would shortly last.

Together we lived for many years,
with barren poverty our only excess.
But the bounty of our life was in love’s express,
which always seemed to delay our tears.

T’was then when a knock came ‘pon our door,
a rarity so true regardless of season.
I answered with caution, and wondered the reason,
this oddity I could not ignore.

‘Fore me stood a man with rabbit’s meat,
cowering beneath the storm that ravaged the land.
He begged for shelter as he placed the meat in hand,
then again his plea he did repeat.

As a righteous man, I let him in,
and my love rushed over to take his weathered coat.
Little did I know as he turned to clear his throat,
that welcoming him was my first sin.

He gave us his name with a smile,
and very quickly my love and I felt at ease.
Then he offered a sack of wine and pound of cheese,
if we would let him stay awhile.

Happy we were to accept his deal,
and quickly my wife went to start the rabbit stew.
Treasures such as these for us were long overdue,
so we ignored how it seemed unreal.

The night passed as the man spoke with charm,
captivating us with mirth, he we did befriend.
His offerings never seemed to come to an end,
and the long hours passed without harm.

In time he asked why we had no tyke,
a subject always sore for both my love and I.
It never happened, no matter how we would try,
tho’ it was a wish, each and alike.

What happened next should have tipped me off,
to the truth that lay hidden behind the man’s veil.
For with his words, my love shied away and turned pale,
as I responded with but a scoff.

So what were these words you likely ask,
that knotted our pleasant eve in such a way?
“If with your lovely wife I can touch, taste, and lay,
then with a child you may both bask.”

Before I could respond to the man,
he added as he continued to carry on.
“And if you give me your answer prior to dawn,
offer you a regal life I can.”

The man then sat so silent and still,
as my love and I both tried hard to comprehend.
Tho’ the gall of this words stung, we could not pretend,
our hopes and dreams they did fulfill.

Now before you judge, let it be known,
that at least it is the truth I give here to you.
Easily I could offer deceit or construe,
lies in which I would need not atone.

But desperate were we for such wealth,
which would include child, title, and even land.
I looked at my love long as she took my ain hand,
should not life offer more than just health?

For a while, no one made a sound,
and the man could tell we were pondering his deal.
It was then the price in return he did reveal,
the words that did even more astound.

“The only catch, if you could call it,
is a cost you will likely ne’er even see.
To be sure, it is more like a gift than a fee,
and is an offer I can commit.

“The child always and e’ermore,
will be within his parent’s arms, nurtured and loved.
A son I will promise, and by all beloved,
and for want you shall feel ne’ermore.”

T’was an offer we could not refuse,
that which he presented us ‘pon that stormy eve.
Tho’ you may think my love and I to be naïve,
we felt that we had nothing to lose.

So my love stood as she turned away,
and our grasp broke as she walked toward our bed.
The man rose next with a wicked grin ‘pon his head,
and in with my wife he went to play.

For hours I sat, listened and cried,
to the sounds of my love, resonating throughout.
It did not take long before she started to shout,
and with her pleasure my soul then died.

I fell asleep alone in my chair,
and awoke hours later to a silent still.
With the fire now out, our home had a chill,
which matched my ain feeling of despair.

I went to check on my sleeping wife,
and found her too alone with a sheet ‘pon her skin.
She rested like a seraph, much to my chagrin,
e’er changing our coming life.

She then woke as if all were a dream,
yet we both could still smell the man’s scent upon her.
We knew then things would ne’er be as they once were,
no matter how we might act or seem.

Tho’, we entered this curse together,
and so I reminded her swiftly of just that.
Then I kissed her soft cheek as I placed on my hat,
and set myself for the cold weather.

For I knew I had to get away,
due to the sullen feelings forging my despair.
But I had to be cautious and offer more care,
else our joined love would e’er stray.

Howe’er, after a night as last,
I needed some time to let the memory fade.
I wondered how I fell for the promises he made,
for I ne’er had in my life’s past.

But my anguish and pain then left me,
faster than it had come, as I first stepped outside.
Because there on our battered step, I quickly eyed,
fulfillment of pledge, at least partly.

A large basket sat, full to its brim,
packed with more food than I could e’er envision.
Just then, I did not regret our decision,
and our future seemed not as grim.

From there and every day after,
life for us both seemed to get better and better.
We then received by delivery of letter,
something that drew out our laughter.

It seemed that an error had been found,
and that my name and blood were of noble birthright.
As payment to us to forgive such oversight,
a Duke I was then titled and crowned.

But perhaps the greatest news of all,
came ‘pon the day we learned my wife was with child.
By cause of our newfound bounty we smiled,
but this was the calm ‘fore our fall.

For one month then swiftly turned to nine,
and with our new riches we thought we had won.
When finally it was time to have our son,
it seemed all had come to us by design.

But with that eve light ne’er returned,
as darkness fore’er more engulfed our lives.
It was then I learned how life truly deprives,
when fortune is given ‘stead of earned.

My love died that eve, passing in birth,
and in that flash I felt all was lost e’ermore.
The woman in my life who I would most adore,
was traded for what we thought had worth.

In my arms was our son, my tot,
who would ne’er have the chance to meet his mother.
The stranger’s gifts came filled one after another,
but the cost was much more than thought.

As sorrowful as my story is,
I regret to say that it does not yet end here.
For even though I had just lost my love, my dear,
the man came for what he claimed was his.

On the morn I placed my wife to rest,
the stranger from that forgotten eve came to me.
It was then he said something I did not foresee,
words I tried to argue and protest.

“With mother gone this child is mine,
and there is nothing you will be able to do.
It was the deal in detail that you agreed to,
when you let me taste your wife so fine.”

His demeanor was strange and stunning,
nothing like the man I remembered him to be.
I tried then to offer my dispute by decree,
but realized swiftly I was conned by his cunning.

For as if spoken for the first time,
his words and that evening replayed in my head.
The child was to stay with the parents he said,
and giving him my wife was my crime.

With that he took the child away,
the last remnant of my wife’s visage the boy was.
Then he turned and did what the Tempter always does,
as if living a wicked cliché.

“And now since the child will be gone,
it saddens me to let you know,” he said so wry.
“It seems your title was given to the wrong guy,
and as such it must now be withdrawn.”

With that he left, ne’er to be found,
leaving me to pick up the pieces of life lost.
I had ne’er realized what his deal would cost,
and now my choices shall e’er hound.

My love and I fell to Tempter’s trick,
and as I said ‘pon the start, my end is now nigh.
So with these words I offer my final goodbye,
for I drank a brew that made me sick.

So life, my life, this was my sorrow,
and death, my death, please do not offer me pity.
If only we had been more guile or witty,
Love and I would be here tomorrow.

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Originally posted 2009-11-24 23:03:06.

On this eve I bid adieu,
as night’s fall does ‘proach,
and tho’ in truth I beg not to encroach,
‘pon your time or even guilt too,
for salvation I beg anew.

Curse of crime and dastardly deed,
chains my soul prisoner to this day,
for on my path I walked astray,
possessed by thirst and greed,
as to these sins and more I do concede.

Where to begin I do not know,
save to start where all tales do,
just be sure that when I am through,
you feel not pain or woe,
for this wicked garden I myself did sow.

At morn’s light I am set to die,
as the woven fibers of my crimes,
hang my body ‘till death’s bell chimes,
an eye for an eye,
so on this final night I bemoan and cry.

I go to sleep this eve knowing my fate,
fearing not the dawn,
fearing not for my sins are long forgone,
‘stead tonight I sit and wait,
for punishment deserved born of sickness and hate.

I know my soul should fear,
the coming of the end,
but it does not for I know I must amend,
to pay for crimes so severe,
for in sorrow I am sincere.

No longer do I thirst for the taste more,
of young life wetting my palate,
but my fate was sealed with the hammering of the magistrate’s mallet,
ending my sins of yore,
crimes that now even I abhor.

Instead I cry out in sorrow,
as I mourn those who fell victim to my sin,
prepare for my eternal suffering to begin,
as my ain death will come tomorrow,
a day more I cannot borrow.

Those who call me friend,
say the Tempter grabbed hold of me and has not let go,
but this I know,
the level of my sins transcend,
but hope for my salvation shall ne’er end.

Just remember I was once simply a man as you,
and this is my final farewell,
tho’ woken from the Tempter’s spell,
my crimes broke nearly every taboo,
and with every death my punishment I did accrue.

So I scribe these words in the ink of my sin,
leaving my last breath as one of hoped atonement,
and I would pray for death’s postponement,
if I knew where to begin,
but my fate is sealed and always has been.

To Him,
I beg for your arms,
to enjoy your infinite charms,
for tho’ life led was grim,
my soul yearns for the favour of your whim.

To those who fell beneath my curse,
your eternity shall be far more bountiful than mine,
tho’ do not think me to pine or whine,
or that I want you to be swayed by this verse,
as I know my life has been beyond perverse.

To those who I leave behind I offer this search,
judge me not only by my mark of madness,
for to do so would cause great sadness,
I know I had walked a path of sin with a lurch,
but consider the offerings I brought to both country and church.

Gilles de Rais is my name,
for those who know me not,
but I fear due to my deeds I shall ne’er be forgot,
tho’ let me with these words proclaim,
that I seek not to exhale the curse of blame.
Just know I was not always the monster or fiend,
your thoughts make me to be,
and even tho’ from my sins I shalln’t flee,
at any moment He could have intervened,
but guilt of consciousness was ne’er gleaned.

So continue on I did,
spreading my seed of sin for five years straight,
destroying what He did create,
and though of the lust I tried to get rid,
I hungered for what all others forbid.

Tho’ I digress for of my past there is more to tell,
intelligent in my youth,
and born into wealth by virtue and truth,
I led a life of nobility so as effect in all I did excel,
but on my ego I like not to dwell.

Let it be said,
it was not until I fell into service of the Royal Guard,
did my lust for sin grow causing my soul to be e’er scarred,
as with each kill the desire within would spread,
mesmerizing my soul betwixt pleasure and dread.

I did great good in this role it should be known,
celebrated even by the our lord and King,
to le Victorieux great triumphs I would bring,
whilst fighting ‘long-side Lady Joan,
our accomplishments and legends had grown.

I tell you this not to make myself something great,
or to make any plea impassioned,
but simply to show my evil was rationed,
that my judgment was clouded by fate,
for this sinner I myself did not want to create.

I was not always this creature,
who is now reflecting ‘pon his life,
filled with torment and strife,
I was a man who in youth wanted to be a preacher,
but instead had war as my teacher.

I was once a man of great honor and deed,
unfortunately for those who fell victim to me,
bloodlust became my life’s decree,
the succulent taste of salt and seed,
was all that would satisfy my sinful greed.

Over the next five years,
the Tempter within decided my fate,
an intimate torture to which none of you can e’er relate,
and while this countryside was gripped by their fears,
with every kill I sobbed my own silent tears.

Tho’ my secular sentence is for the cruelty ‘pon two hundred souls,
I confess before God in hopes of salvation,
in truth three times that is a truer revelation,
so here I sit as it is one of my goals,
to tell you both Tempter’s jester and King’s prince have been but two of my roles.

I am thankful to be here now,
in this room of cold dark stone,
as without it – if I were still on my own,
filling my needs I would still allow,
to this I can avow.

For with every life I took,
I had the wanton desire for two more,
as if truly the Tempter’s whore,
I ne’er would have stopped the crimes which chilled and shook,
no matter the remorse I felt – the yearning within was simply too much to overlook.

It is time now to end this script,
as I can see the hints of dawn approaching,
light ‘pon the night is encroaching,
and tho’ my freedom has been taken and stripped,
I care not if this room becomes my crypt.

For I bid this world my final goodbyes,
and in sorrow I sit,
to all my crimes I hereby admit,
but let it be known there is a man within who now cries,
a man who accepts his coming demise.

My soul feels sorrow and grief,
for bearing witness to the vile deeds of fiend,
who mirrored stares scorns back broken and demeaned,
so I hope my death is brief,
offering this world from my sins final relief.

I thank you friends far and few,
for having the strength to stop my thirst when I did not,
and I confess these sins and any others I may have forgot,
in hope of finding salvation and the grace of His hue,
so to this world I apologize – and for the final time I bid adieu…

Originally posted 2009-09-13 02:11:45.

Eternal sleep,
release me from my mortal coil,
close my eyes,
and let fore’er wash me away.

I am so tired,
of all my suffering,
I want to shed out all vestige of my humanity,
I need to make it through this day.

Tho’ I know I wont,
for my soul shall be claimed by my ain hand,
and the wretched excuse that is my existence,
shall be ne’ermore as my body lay.

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Originally posted 2009-09-13 02:47:30.

My Dragonfly by Jonas Hyde

This poem was ranked #1 of 400 on Helium.com!

My Dragonfly
by Jonas Hyde

‘Wherefore art thou?’
my love,
my dear,
I weep ‘pon the eve’s cool mid night,
wishing my words held their weight,
as when whispered in times of yore.

Alas,
I lie,
here alone in an emerald field,
crimson rivers marbling my eyes,
dripping oceans of despair,
drowning out my soul.

I battle the restlessness,
as I try and fall to the fatigue,
the weariness that ne’er claims me,
and tho’ I long for it to,
it allows me no respite,
no reprieve from the pain.

My heart pounds,
as my mind wanders,
is it curse enough I lie alone,
that I must feel the anguish in each moment,
in every breath,
of lonely solitude?

And just as hope is to exhale,
in concert with my final gasp,
salvation comes to me,
on the gentle wind,
of Zephyr’s embrace,
giving me reason to invite the dawn.

I reach out my hand,
expose my palm,
which is as naked,
bare,
and stripped as my soul,
when she softly lands ‘pon me.

Fragile faerie,
whose gentle touch soothes my pain,
tempering the tempest,
the battle that rages within,
gives me strength,
with just a look.

I pull her close,
fearful she shall fly away once more,
as she has so often ‘fore,
tho’ this time she remains,
and her sweet scent,
bewitches me.

“Fear not my love,
I am here,”
she finally whispers in reply to my pleas,
words I have longed for,
yearned to hear for an eternity,
as her lips meet mine.

For the first time in fore’er,
and a night more,
my eyes close,
as I taste her pumpkin spice,
and my wounds heal,
as I soak her in.

My head falls back softly,
guided by her own strength,
with a vigor and potency,
unbecoming of her size,
and I drift off,
relishing in a slumber I have enjoyed all too rare.

The dreams of that night,
are a tale to be told another time,
for it will take a score or ten,
to find the words of solace I felt,
but when I awoke,
I did so with the verity of a new dawn.

And tho’ fairies are figures,
of tales and dreams,
her scent still lingered,
her taste was still ‘pon my lips,
and in her stead,
fluttered the wings of my dragonfly.

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Originally posted 2009-09-13 03:34:31.

Home is where the heart is,
or so the angels say,
but my heart is with you my love,
and you are so far away.

Is there reason for our rhyme
I questioned once,
but now I question all the time.

I tread alone,
the curse and cross I want not to bear,
taking each step,
while dripping a tear.

The long walk started with a breath,
and will end not with destination of place,
but with the finality of my soul’s hope and death.

I long for you,
but you are so far away,
so I will start my long walk,
and cry alone for you tomorrow and a day.

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Originally posted 2009-09-13 03:37:04.

Over the next few weeks I will be posting the newest released work.  Titled Pendragon, it covers the mythos of King Arthur.   There are 12 sections to the poem, each of varying length.  This is the first of twelve.  As always, questions and comments are welcome…

-I-

In the time before tales,
when the myths of old had walked, lived, and weaved,
is where this story starts,
in the legend of Arthur all believed,
known as the King of Kings,
the one to behold for all he achieved.

A warrior and knight,
lover and friend, the fables of his rule,
echo through the ages,
tho’ with all things betwixt blissful and cruel,
time shapes legends at will,
and truth becomes the quandary of a fool.

However, this I say
not all yield to he known as Father Time,
there have been those so few,
that with verve and verity so sublime,
have kept record of days,
and of lore, with prose, verse and also rhyme.

It is within those words,
that the truth survives, and within that breath,
this account comes to you,
the tale of Pendragon, like Lady Beth,
starts with life chaste and true,
but as all things pure, ends in bitter death.

So, long and far ago,
in a settlement of fire and stone,
ruled a king, Vortigern,
and it was he with strength of grit and bone,
who did all that he could,
to push back the Saxon hordes from his throne.

And though his rule was brief,
but a pinhole in the annals of kings,
‘twas then the true legend,
of Arthur first began to spread its wings,
as the last prophecy,
of the dragon-king still echoes and rings.

For on one Autumn’s eve,
Vortigern was returning from a hunt,
when he was then approached,
by an old beggar who moved with a grunt,
the man, thin and sickly,
offered a great gift to spare an affront.

Curious as to what,
this tramp could offer a man of power,
the king gave a moment,
and the frail man pointed to the Tower,
off ‘pon the rising ridge,
and said, “ruin comes this midnight hour”.

No longer so amused,
as the tower was his crowning treasure,
the king kicked the beggar,
away toward the ground with such displeasure,
knowing not it would come,
when the moon was at its highest measure.

And so when the moon rose,
with a red ring circling its brilliant glow,
the sands started to quake,
and tremors fervently began to grow,
that soon the very lands,
all seemed to shift and tremble from below.

It caused the tall tower,
upon the ridge to crumble to the ground,
crushing all those within,
when the tremors at last ceased all around,
the king rushed out swiftly,
furious at the commotion and sound.

He demanded the tramp,
to be brought, and ‘fore dawn was at his feet,
then with a mammoth club,
Vortigern ordered to know in defeat,
the name of this beggar,
and how he could be sure it won’t repeat.

The man smirked as he rose,
and then with a calm pace of breath replied,
“I, my lord, am Merlyn,
‘twas not I who caused the lands to divide,
but I can say for sure,
what caused the tremors to start and subside.

“For deep below these sands,
within the hidden caverns void of light,
were two ancient dragons,
one bright as day, the other dark as night,
and on this solemn eve,
their final battle was a sacred rite.

“It was meant to foretell,
the destiny of this entire land,
for if the pale serpent,
were to be victorious and still stand,
a great era would come,
led by a dragon-king, an age so grand.

“Tho’ if the shadowed one,
arose victor, then a darkness would come,
spawning all damnation,
I know not which fate ‘pon us will become,
I only saw the signs,
and to that knowledge I did so succumb.”

Believing now in all,
the wretched man before him had to say,
Vortigern raised him up,
and a large bounty he offered to pay,
coupled with position,
to divine the future and it convey.

Merlyn did take the purse,
but also rebuked the presented trade,
for he really did know,
the part the just fallen tower had played,
a sign of the king’s fate,
which caused even Merlyn to be afraid.

So that very eve,
Merlyn did slip out from beneath the men,
knowing what was to come,
for he knew what the tower meant by then,
and Vortigern the king,
was ne’er heard from again.

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Originally posted 2010-01-18 01:07:26.

“O’ brother where art thou?”
a line of mirth true,
tho’ my pain is known by so few.
Can you hear me now?
Its been fore’er and a night more since I have talked with you.

Are you with me?
They say you are,
yet you feel so far,
lost memories I nearly can no longer see,
the wound of your death leaving this deepest scar.

When you were here we cried together,
but now I simply cry on my own,
surviving the added pain I am glad you had ne’er known,
for while you walk through the nether,
I walk this world alone.

To share your fate,
to steal your end,
my soul I would spend,
so my pain would abate
and my wounds mend.

For you once wrote of time,
and how it cures all,
yet it has not tamed the tempest of my torment’s squall.
And since to join you would be sin’s crime,
I must suffer for the long haul.

Since you have been gone,
I have tried to live as you would want,
tho’ fumbling through life as if an idiot savant.
And tho’ I try to welcome each new dawn,
in my nights your vestige still haunts.

So I call to you on this eve,
come visit me once more.
So we can speak of times of yore.
Because to this day for you I still grieve,
as you o’ brother I shall foe’er adore.

Originally posted 2009-09-13 03:12:19.