Spirit

Written for Saturday Scribes - theme: Redeeming Poetical Triads
Triad: Dust, Rust, Must

He found her
Half burried by the dust
And the dirt
Neglected
In the years of grime
Her sleek
Smooth lines
Scarred
By the rust
Beauty marred
By the hands of time
Abandoned

Lost
He knew he must
Be her salvation
Money
Burning its hole
Within his pocket
Demanding
His attention
His plans
Forgotten
Falling
In love

Rescued
She shows her colours
Decayed metal
Replaced
By vibrant red
Her skin
Repaired
Gleams once more
The white knight
With his steed now found
He makes her sing
Again

The Batman Cometh

Based on Batman, created by Bob Kane.

Gotham

Wretched
Villainous hive
Beware

Here
He comes
A man alone
A saviour
Ready

Listening
Hearing enhanced
Picking up everything
Each utterance of villainy
When silence screams
He hears
All

Watching
Ever vigilant
Knowing each detail
Seeing each depraved moment
Within a crime choked city
Though none see him
Unless he chooses
Watchful, invisible
Witness

Standing
As sentry
As a gargoyle
Guarding against the night
Cape swept out around him
Caught by the wind's cold fingers
Ready to be his wings
When he takes flight
Guardian of justice
Gotham's son
Bat

Man
One being
Strengthened by grief
Stalking the dark places
The depths of humanities soul
Footsteps blazing a trail of hope
Clearing the rot with a surgeon's skill
Bringing the corrupt to their knees
Scouring the streets of crime
Dispensing his own justice
With wordless fury
He continues
Relentless

Secret
Another life
In daylight hours
Known only to one
A faithful and loyal friend
Alfred, butler to Gotham's richest son
Keeping the secret of his master's calling
They're caught between the secrets and the lies
The young millionaire leads his double life
Pretence essential to save the city
He keeps up the act
Living the high life
The true mask -
Bruce Wayne
Playboy

Boy
Only son
Wanting of nothing
Eyes opened to pain
And a life changed forever
In the darkness of an alley
The shot that brought his parents death
Pierced also the soul of one small child
A transformation set in place like a ticking clock
Destiny lay its claim to a future saviour
In time, the child became the man
A man of skills and learning
The hero of the night
The Bat is reality
Cape and cowl
Second skin
Darkness

Gotham
Tormented city
Shrouded in pain
Made in crime's image
The rich, fattened by greed
The poor, trodden beneath their feet
Corruption treads its path upon the streets
Through the darkened heart of the tortured city
Good citizens, broken down, and cast out as prey
Men walk the dark line to avoid the same fate
They will find a greater darkness stalking them tonight
A lone man they will never see coming
A Dark Knight for the darkest nights
Saviour to all, presuming he can
Shadow of the city itself
He is become darkness
Is become night
The Batman
Cometh

Creator

Written for Saturday Scribes - theme: Landscape

To begin
The canvas is blank
The details do not yet exist
Yet, He sees all
With passion
The brush is grasped
With deft, broad strokes is wrought
He crafts the baseline
Light, dark
He builds his landscape
Rich greens - hills, deep blues - sea
Not skimping on details
Minutely careful
He crafts the populous
The myriad mammals of the land
Birds of the sky
Aquatic creatures
The man, the woman
He breathes life to the details
He is the craftsman
The creator
The universe his canvas
On the seventh day, He rests