You may heard of me in ancient history. I am Genghis Khan and I,would like to share a story that was not recorded in history.In 1199 near the middle of winter,on the northern borders of china. My two best men and I were left standing,after being at war with the mongolians for several weeks,filled with hunger and dressed with wounds decided to retreat to home to heal and gather more men. I yelled lets go,We lofted on our horses,and right at that moment,a loft of arrows desended,up on all three of us killing my two men,and leaving me wounded in the arm, i broke the shaft of the arrow,and pulled it out,flung it on the ground and dug my spurs into my horses flesh,and like a bolt of lighting we shot through the woods.I knew my horse was weak, not having much to eat,but some bark off the trees,because of the heavy snow, my prayers were to the effect,that i would be home soon. I could hear hoof beats off in the distance,they sounded like they were getting closer, all i had on my mind was darkness.Once dark my chances of escape are far better,I was still bleeding and felt like my horse was about to give up,as we arrived at the top of the mountain,looking down the other side and down at the bottom was a long winding river,i knew this was my escape,my horse collapsed to its side,gave his last breath.At that moment i heard a branch break,looking over my shoulder,gettig closer was that small army,of mongolians,run,run,run was going through my mind,i was weak and could not move very fast.i could here the words of the savages,bragging about how much my head was worth,then i slipped on the hard snow hit my head and be came unaware of my sorroundings, i started dreaming that i was near a warm fire with my favorite woman,dressing my wounds,all of a sudden,i felt could very cold,my eyes opened gasping for air,and full of pain i moved my good arm till i drifted to shore,smiling to my self in all the pain.I reassured my self i gave those mongolians the slip,Then i heard i dont,see him,then i thought, WHEN WILL IT END..
The Essay on Men at forty analysis
The poem basically pertains to me turning the age of forty, which can be interpreted as a mid-life crisis. The idea of a child being a father’s inspiration also comes into play. In the first stanza in lines 2-4 when the author states that “Men at forty learn to close softly the doors to rooms they will not be coming back to”, the author is referring to the thought of moving forward and the idea ...
