Paris. August. Freeze frame.
The People’s Princess fades into white light,
Though she never quite reaches
The end of the tunnel.
Outside the gates a sea of flowers
Emerges and their scent
Spreads for miles to reach you
As you hide in your highland fortress,
Lost in another century.
You pace the corridor lined
With antlered martyrs looking
Down on you as a silent jury.
You await their verdict.
High in the surrounding hills
The stag, lonely monarch of the moors,
Is being pursued by stalkers.
He is tired of defending his innocence
Against such predators.
His noble blood flows in the rivers.
London. September. Freeze frame.
You return to face the people.
And they welcome you.
For you are and will remain
Their Queen of Hearts.
Comments
Silver Spun Sand | September 18, 2008 - 22:47
An interesting poem, Magic.
For me the lines that have the most resonance:-
"He is tired of defending his innocence
Against such predators.
His noble blood flows in the rivers."
Tina
MistakenMagic | September 19, 2008 - 17:08
Glad you liked it Tina :) It's another example of me experimenting with something new!
It's based on the film 'The Queen' I was so moved bu it that this poem just sprang instantly into my head!
_jacobea_ | September 22, 2008 - 18:14
As i read this, i started thinking of Mary, Queen of Scots, i guess because you used the word "Highland" and moved from France to England (although her granndaughter was the real Queen of Hearts). I liked the wording you used-quite magical :)
MistakenMagic | September 23, 2008 - 16:50
Thanks jacobea :) And it really dosen't matter how you percieve the poem, as long as you get something from it!