Sir Robin

I get lost in the quantum

I retract to the bottom

Dissuaded not from filth

I wait in precipitous fashion

Fear not I am a patient warrior

From a forest of a past Notting

Ham, I am Him. I sneak with precision

not thoughtless. Calculating blows

with feathers, I save the quills

for pleasure. Yet, I get lost 

in quantum. A fallible foe, rightly so

 will fear my lancet, my arrow, my bow.

I am the warrior who strikes at night

not light, nor day can stop my might.

I dissipate in mist of water, regain in 

strength to save your daughter.

 I get lost in the quantum, a levity 

a misfortune, a history recorded.

The flotsam, the forgotten, a death.

A century not this. A warrior in parallels,

in forests, I get lost in this. The quantum.

Fear not. I am of you, I am of 

him, I am of your bittered friend. 

This knight of pebbled precision, waiting

to hasten the death, of a man’s battled greed

to fell the fiend of filth, the hand, the arm, the leg

the bastard brethren, of a brittled breed.

 I seethe in furious quiet, a lasso tied in hand

I am, I am, I am. I am your mortal friend.

I get lost in the quantum.

©Jay Mora-Shihadeh

Photo by Paul Alnet on Unsplash

#Poetry #Poet #Robinhood #Spokenword

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