Wednesday, 17 August 2011

Time's Last Breath

In a grove in the tiny village of Little Dunmow in Essex there is a priory where Eleanora Lovaine Douglas and her Crusader knight, William le Hardi, are buried. Local legend also claims the remains of Maid Marian, lover of the infamous thief, or legendary fighter for justice depending on your point of view - Robin Hood. I wrote this piece with reference to the place and an imagined relationship between the two after visiting with a dear friend.

The poem is not solely or entirely about Robin and Marian, it represents the passing of a relationship, a changing of status, a shifting of the heart’s season – like an autumn day, as trees are releasing their leaves to be carried off by the wind .. a reconciliation of hope at the pearly gates of an eternally lost love ..

In Little Dunmow Church 

In Little Dunmow Church
Weeds grow in the paving
But, deep within the vaults
Where true hearts are never betrayed

It is there sweet Maid Marian lays waiting

Yet, a beauty in her tower
A gilded cage of her design
A passionless tomb should
Pride and vanity win out.

The roguish Robin
Battles truth with a fine art
His arrows are but blunted words
The fool who struggles searches brambles

The point is buried deep within his heart

Torn flesh finds a silent stone
Hiding low in the greenbrier
His endless rage a tragedy
Quelled only by love’s desire.
For what purpose serve a rose
If freedom becomes her prison
Spoken words her love betraying?

A sacred peaceful place
Wrapped in protective thorns
A romantic heart that is still aching

All brave souls her cries do tempt
His sorrow from time not exempt 
A crusader in this lover’s foolish endeavour 
Our valiant squire
Sheds his noble blood
That today might last forever.

In Little Dunmow Church
Under foundation stones
Beneath the legend of history
A hush is on the gathering congregation

A wilting faded feathered plume
Plucked from the wing of an angel
Droops in faded glory over tainted ruby petals

Sweet wine upon her lips
Softly whispered words speak
Time’s last hopeful breath releases a sigh
Of life together in eternal perfect grace

There within imagination
I’ll be your love someday.

*     *     *

Sunday, 7 August 2011

Cast a Broken Spell ..


I cast my pearls
Fresh from the shimmering shell
But you were too busy with the trough to notice

I cast a clean net
Wide open into the ocean so blue
But you preferred the warmer flesh of this earth

I cast a pebble
To skim the surface of stilled waters
But it swiftly sank in the curling of winter waves

I cast alabaster
To maintain posterity’s appearance
But you chipped striking character with impunity

I cast a shadow
Across the face of deeper thoughts
But the sunlight dimmed behind clouds of doubt
I cast a glance
In the general direction of your eye
But you were still winking at those fallen angels

I cast sweet fruit
Vine-ripened and filled with nectar
But you were drunk on power and selfish greed
I cast aspersions
To awaken you from heartless pride
But you wanted only to deny this very existence
I cast you aside
To preserve a measure of my dignity
 *     *     *