Eternally Yours

This blog is maintained by Lawrence Eberhart, and the above note is automated.

This outstanding Heroic Crown of Sonnets was written by Joel M. Frey.

 

In wistful sojourn through a thousand lives,
across the chasmed centuries gone past,
he calls her name; it never quite arrives
to fall upon her ear. Just at the last,
she leaves the hall, or shutters windows closed.
The fading echoes rebound, fall, despair
upon the careless earth, alone who knows
how many times he’s haunted up her stairs
and stood before her door, unwilling hand
hung limply at his side. The heavy years
passed by them both again; he hadn’t planned
that they would not meet. This chance disappears
to speak the truth he knows she knows as well;
two ancient souls in broken bodies dwell.

Two ancient souls in broken bodies dwell,
a karmic double-helix twists through time.
They spiral ’round, attracted and repelled
by cosmic force, the space between defined
as two arms’ lengths apart. Their fingertips
will brush by chance; the spark that generates
ignites the kindling lust, the heated lips
which speak the wildfire words of love. The fates
dictate the places, times where their paths cross;
circumstances, consequences feed
the choices made. They’ve chosen fire, the loss
of reason, stoking starving naked need,
dance with abandon, passion, without pride;
they trip light-years fantastic side by side.

They trip light-years fantastic side by side.
The pas de deux began in ancient court
of some small city-state. He is a knight
sent by his Queen, a diplomatic sort
of mission. At a dinner hosted by
the local King, the knight, while taking in
who might be helpful or a hindrance spies
a shaken mane of gold, blue eyes within
her stunning face, struck slack with ennui
until she meets his eyes. An eyebrow lifts,
a corner of her mouth curls up, unseen
by all save the old man beside. He shifts,
and stands to pound his staff. The hall is still;
bound by an angered mage’s curs’ed spell

Bound by an angered mage’s curs’ed spell:
“Your burning gaze, Sir Knight…your smile, milass;
returned. You want each other? Very well!
So mote it be; I’ll have it come to pass.
She will be linked to you, eternally
yours, to have, to hold and never love;
to consummate and quench your lust will be
your death. And you shall lust, by Jove above!
I hereby mate your everlasting souls;
condemn you with a love like Hades’ fires,
passion’s heat incinerates you whole.
You’ll take him, child, and kill him with desire.
You’ll die for her; she’ll bring you to her knees
across uncharted lands, bedragoned seas.”

Across uncharted lands, bedragoned seas
uncounted years of wandering, he seeks
asylum from the memory of her eyes.
The softest skin, most gently blushing cheeks,
wildest fingers raking skin from back,
ever-changing hips which thrust and thrash;
the tavern wench, the courtesan, all lack
whatever power it would take to smash
his crushing need. An aching pilgrimage,
life spent in shameless chase to slake the lust
imposed by jealous wizard in his rage.
Now weak and old, he walks alone through dust
and sandstorm, seeking solace, final rest
in desert’s scalding carborundum breath

In desert’s scalding carborundum breath
she oversees construction of her tomb.
Her father started it; upon his death,
she left the mage to build the solemn room
of memory. The waves of slaves pour sweat
in rivers onto stones, their muscles scream
and ripple in the undulating heat.
Mirage becomes a staggering man, unseen
by all but she. She mounts and rides to bring
some water, some relief. When their eyes meet,
their souls enmesh, their spirits start to sing,
his failing body falls about her feet.
They’re found again, and still there’s no release;
not even end of life can bring surcease.

Not even end of life can bring surcease;
she lived another twenty years beyond.
His final gaze of longing gave no peace,
but chained her in the everlasting bond
of arcane condemnation. Her damned heart
is pierced by passing seconds, every one
a blunted needle, mildly poisoned dart
not strong enough to stop her pulse’s run.
The mage’s gift to her: the agony
of life remembering her lover’s kiss,
then a death too short to set her free.
It sends her toward another fatal tryst,
spun round again the universe’s width;
their love a measured minuet with death.

Their love a measured minuet with death,
a dance with destiny. They wake again
to unfamiliar bodies, unknown paths
meandering across the haunted plain
of time. A muddy pasture, half a million
blissful stoners join in raucous song:
“…and you make it hard”. Among the hills run
junkie lovers who can do no wrong,
all sharing bodies, needles ’til the smack
runs out. Her shaking arms strapped ‘cross his chest;
he huddles close, awaiting the next stack
of Methadone. He shivers; breathes his last.
She cries and rocks his body, they will spoon
throughout the summer’s thundered afternoon.

Throughout the summer’s thundered afternoon
as heavy clouds erupt on thirsty soil,
cooler air meets skin on fire, a boon
to Magdalene and lover. The sweet oil
washes off, the rain obscures the sound
of marching feet. Centurions approach
and snatch him from her side. “So now you’re found
beside this one, whose last ride gave us such
an evil time. We strung him up, but now
his body’s gone, and you were seen beside
the tomb. You’ll die just as he did, and how.”
She watched another man be crucified.
Supported by her love, in peace he passed
between first breath of spring and winter’s last.

Between first breath of spring and winter’s last,
the royal courtyard at Versailles in bloom
is laid out for the party. Every face
is rouged, each powdered wig precisely groomed.
The hundred soldiers stand down, raise a toast,
Vive le roi! One teasing courtier
seduces a queen’s guard to leave his post.
Behind a hedge, they make love unaware
of peasants, women milling through the gate
in search of bread and royal blood, not cake.
He runs to save the Queen, and seals his fate;
the mob will kill for revolution’s sake.
The oaks a silent witness to his doom
in autumn colors, reds and golds festooned.

In autumn colors, reds and golds festooned,
the twin moons rise and set, reflecting sun
upon the biodomes. Earth shines down, ruined
by man’s neglect, what could not be undone.
The population by law zero sum;
resource conservation held above
the joy of new life. Parents here must come
to know the anguish of requited love.
She bears his child; they knew too well the chance
they took. The court will force a choice be made:
the father or the child. A tear, a glance
as he’s locked out. She watches as he fades
in cryogenic punishment, life lashed
to winter’s icy shackles holding fast.

To winter’s icy shackles holding fast
her soul, she proffers prayer, slogs through the sleet
toward her cloistered cell. One chilling blast
wraps habit ’round her, knocks her off her feet.
The heavy, sodden cloth, the wind prevents
her gaining purchase on the frozen ground.
From monastery cot, the monk could sense
distress. In thin burnoose he dashed and found
her, cold as stone, yet breathing; swept her up
and rushed her to the hearth. His warm embrace
brings on familiar heat. Their pasts stirred up,
relived, decision made within a trace:
“‘Tis best this time we live, and never start.”
Their minds attuned, yet cleft by broken heart.

Their minds attuned, yet cleft by broken heart;
the aching need grows stronger day by day.
He tends her failing health without regard
to duty, vows. Her weak voice strains to say,
“I will be gone before you this time. Hear
me out; this may be what we need to break
our curse. Stay with me as my time grows near;
and love me as the Reaper comes to take
my soul, and finish with me after I
have left. God will forgive sins we’ll commit
for man alone has damned us. We must try
or curse ourselves, continue to submit
to endless pain, remain just as we are:
connected, blessed, and doomed to be apart.”

Connected, blessed, and doomed to be apart,
they cling to every moment here and now;
the priceless beating of her failing heart,
his passions roil in an unending flow.
He gazes deep in her eternal eyes
as they glaze over, looking past his face
into the hollow stare of death. She lies
suspended between life and time and space,
to hear an old, familiar voice sound in
her ears. “To dance with death before him
as you rut…how clever! Most astounding
that you’d carry out this futile whim.
He dies; you’ll live, just as the curse defines,
in wistful sojourn through a thousand lives.”

In wistful sojourn through a thousand lives,
Two ancient souls in broken bodies dwell.
They trip light-years fantastic side by side
Bound by an angered mage’s curs’ed spell.
Across uncharted lands, bedragoned seas,
In desert’s scalding carborundum breath
Not even end of life can bring surcease;
Their love a measured minuet with death.
Throughout the summer’s thundered afternoon,
Between first breath of spring and winter’s last,
In autumn colors, reds and golds festooned,
To winter’s icy shackles holding fast;
Their minds attuned, yet cleft by broken heart:
Connected, blessed, and doomed to be apart.

(c) 2014 Joel M. Frye

Love at First Glance

Sonnet IYour eyes are liquid pools in which I sink
The centers dark, yet filled with so much light
Can’t look away, I dare not even blink
In case I miss the nuance of your sight.
The lashes seem too pretty for a man
But thickly cast a shadow, which I see
Just adds to intrigue, with their depth and span
Awakens something at the heart of me.But if you capture me with just a glance
It must be so with many others too,
I am unsure if I would stand a chance
Of challenging and interesting you.Desire it seems already now has grown
To greater depths than I have ever known.

Sonnet II

To greater depths than I have ever known
When all it took was just a single glance,
For in a rush my senses have all flown
Into a waltz, a swirling, twirling dance.
I do not know if I can cross this floor
That separates us now, but your eyes call
And I’m obliged to heed the certain roar
Be brave or let the curtain on us fall.

But more than eyes reached out to say hello
The timbre of your voice a pleasant thrill,
I stumble then, the words won’t seem to flow
My thoughts are lost, and gone against my will.

Oh damn, I know I really need a drink!
I cannot voice the wonder that I think.

Sonnet III

I cannot voice the wonder that I think
Your eyes have drawn me in and now I’m hooked.
The world around us goes away, just shrinks
To naught, I think, by a sweet piercing look!
Your mouth says words, I only see your lips
They are so curved, look firm and oh so warm,
You’re godlike from your hair down to your hips
My thoughts are scattered in your perfect storm.

I wonder why your look seemed so intense,
But still I am enraptured by your glow.
I think perhaps I am a little dense;
What’s there about me you should want to know?

Your hand is smooth, I bite away my moan
My thoughts a mess, a writhing small cyclone.

Sonnet IV

My thoughts a mess, a writhing small cyclone
My heart it stutter steps within my breast,
I pray you cannot hear its restless groan
And hope yours feels, within that manly chest.
Your eyes, still looking deeply into mine
(I wonder why I cannot look away?)
Bring shivers to my skin and up my spine
So totally I am within your sway.

My fingers want to touch, they need to say
Out loud how much your gaze has shaken me;
I must be mad! My nerves are in a fray,
I’m praying that there’s truth in what I see.

Throw caution to the wind? What’s the big deal?
I want to tell you how I truly feel.

Sonnet V

I want to tell you how I truly feel
How fired your eyes have made me from the start,
The all of you, that latent sex appeal
I struggle with the words I must impart.
I gather up my courage, take a breath
And hope I sound so confident and bold
Because if I don’t speak then I’ll be left
To always wonder, what if I had told.

Then suddenly the band begins to play
You bow to me and ask me for a dance,
We go out on the floor and closely sway
And once more words are swept with fine romance.

You stare at me, I’m totally engrossed
But words escape me when I need them most.

Sonnet VI

But words escape me when I need them most
I’m on cloud nine, no words are needed now.
He thinks, This woman, dancing with me close
Seems so much fun, but now I must allow
Her access to my deeper self as well
For texture, image, and demeanor too
Broadcast that words unsaid will soon compel
My heart and soul to take a deeper view.

She looks reluctant, timid and surprised,
Perhaps afraid her words won’t show their worth.
She speaks such volumes flowing from her eyes
I feel her voice will flow with care and mirth.

I’ll vouch that words will soon my soul anneal
Your eyes just mesmerize; my heart, once steel.

Sonnet VIIYour eyes just mesmerize; my heart, once steel
Has melted now; surprised how readily
A look can reach across and make me feel;
My strength erodes, heart beats unsteadily.
Your perfume rises up and takes my sense,
My hands around your waist, they tremble too
Against love’s call I have no strong defense
When all I seem to want is only you.
We’ve hardly said a word and yet your eyes
Have said so much, without an uttered line.
My head it spins, you’re such a natural high
I need to find a way to make you mine.My breath deserts me when it matters most
Just falls apart and leaves me like a ghost.

Sonnet VIII

Just falls apart and leaves me like a ghost
Composure slips, but cannot help myself.
I need to get a grip or diagnose
Myself a fool; I feel like someone else!
You’re watching me as if you cannot wait
For me to utter something cute or smart,
But all I do is curse myself, berate
For staying oh so quiet from the start.

I breathe and finally my lips awake
I hear the words and cringe; oh what a mess!
“You dance so well”, is all that I can shake
Out from my mind, and now I feel distress.

You smile as if you see my silly fears
I am in constant blush, I know you hear.

Sonnet IXI am in constant blush, I know you hear
And wonder if you think that I am less
Than every woman you’ve known here and there;
That causes me to think and to assess.
The music stops but we stay standing close
As if we are afraid to break some spell
And caught up in a dream we softly pose
Like lovers, who cannot their passions quell.You ask me if I’d like to take a seat
And talk a while, and lead me from the floor
I nod and force some movement from my feet
And softly say “I’d like that, I am sure”.I shake my head, I know I need to cool
My mumblings, you must think me such a fool.

Sonnet X

My mumblings, you must think me such a fool
My mind replays- until you speak and say,
“I’m not so tongue-tied as a general rule,
But then again, I’ve never felt this way”.
I hesitate to interrupt this brief
Connection where our touching speaks instead
Of words, but still I find it a relief
That I want more than taking you to bed.

That raw desire could make guy’s words self-serving
Make compliments and praise be deemed a ploy,
And yet of all such praise you’re most deserving
And your non-verbal cues have brought me joy.

When I’m supposed to be precise and clear
I cannot string a line together dear.

Sonnet XII cannot string a line together dear
So hold my hand while clouds of phrases bounce
Across my mind before they disappear.
I stutter when you give your hair a flounce.
There’s nothing I can tell you that is new
For every man before has surely tried
To frame in words, the loveliness of you
With every phrase their muses could provide.
Our fingers touching tells me it’s okay,
That words aren’t too important on this night.
I sense you’re feeling lost in this same way
At loss for words, but found in shared delight.Pretense would drown in eyes deep liquid pool;
Your smiling eyes, they make me so uncool.

Sonnet XII

Your smiling eyes, they make me so uncool,
But so infectious, I can’t help but smile,
I think I’m grinning like some silly fool
I haven’t felt this reckless in a while!
Your fingers grow a warmth in me that I
Cannot resist, I feel your moonlike pull
And like the tide I flow towards your sky
And somehow you just make me feel so full.

You whisper softly, leaning in to me
And touch a finger to my blushing cheek,
You say how much my eyes look like the sea
And trace of finger makes me feel so weak.

I stammer “thank you”, so caught on your hook
Your eyes so warm, I almost cannot look.
 

Sonnet XIIIYour eyes so warm, I almost cannot look
The passions well and make me feel so small,
How can I breathe, when all the air you took?
How fast, how fast, so easily I fall!
Your beauty is a wonder I should hold
I’ve never been so taken with one glance!
And I’ll presume to be so very bold
And say that this is love, I’m in a trance!
All words forgot, your lips are claiming mine
And then I know the all of what I feel.
You bubble to my head like mellow wine
This kiss is all we need to seal the deal.
Our love it babbles like a raging brook,
Through love, we read each other like a book.

Sonnet XIV

Through love, we read each other like a book
My heart is bared to you, I read your eyes
And there, with such intensity of look
Is everything I need, right there it lies.
I ask if I can see you once again
But know I never want to be without,
And sigh with happiness when you exclaim
The “yes” that erases my every doubt.

We kiss once more, your lips just speak to me
And hand in hand we leave our meeting place,
And I am still in awe, but feel so free
Enraptured by the wonder of your face.

I am amazed how two hearts can be linked;
Your eyes are liquid pools in which I sink.

Sonnet XV

Your eyes are liquid pools in which I sink
To greater depths than I have ever known,
I cannot voice the wonder that I think
My thoughts a mess, a writhing small cyclone.
I want to tell you how I truly feel
But words escape me when I need them most,
Your eyes just mesmerize; my heart, once steel
Just falls apart and leaves me like a ghost.

I am in constant blush, I know you hear
My mumblings, you must think me such a fool.
I cannot string a line together dear
Your smiling eyes, they make me so uncool.

Your eyes so warm, I almost cannot look
Through love, we read each other like a book.

Jonathon Livingston Seagull – A Poem (A Heroic Crown of Sonnets)

1. The Breakfast Flock
To fly was so much more than flapping wings
and while the Breakfast Flock besieged the fleet
that chummed the water, Jonathon had things
to do ‘sides squawk and dodge and fight to eat.
The thousand gulls began another day,
their raucous screeching testimony to
their group-think need to aggregate that way,
for they could see no other thing to do.
Yet Jonathon would so much rather fly.
He lived to fly while others flew to eat.
He flew a hundred feet into the sky
and practiced learning a new turning feat.
A disgrace others would not take so well,
so tight a curve he tried, he stalled and fell.


2. Level Flight
So tight a curve he tried, he stalled and fell.
But unashamed, (though seagulls never stall),
he stretched his wings and tried again- as well
you note: he was not common after all.
He found that when less than a half wingspan
above the water he could float on air,
effortlessly, a most efficient plan
that let him glide most far without a care.
But others cared! His dad and mother asked”
“Why Jon, can’t you be like all of the rest
and leave low flying to the birds so tasked-
the pelicans who surely do that best?”
“Be like others, avoid the social stings
Conform,” they said, “try doing natural things.”


3. Being Obedient
“Conform,” they said, try doing natural things.
Jon really tried for several days that week.
He tried to wear his mother’s apron strings.
he screeched and dove and fought with wing and beak.
He flocked around the piers and fishing boats
and dove for scraps of fish and tossed out bread.
He chaffed against the ennui that promotes.
So pointless- he could learn to fly instead.
Deliberately he then dropped his fish,
a hungry old gull chasing him was pleased.
To learn to fly was Jonathon’s real wish.
and now the opportunity was seized.
I’ll not conform to nonsense they compel-
Nope! I’m going to fly and soon excel


4. Fixed Wing Flight
Nope! I’m going to fly and soon excel.
Alone again way out to sea, his need
to learn was something not to quench or quell
so practice was the plan, this week’s goal: speed.
He learned why gulls don’t make such speedy dives;
at seventy, the wings become unstable
on the upstroke. No matter how one strives,
that darn gull upstroke one cannot enable.
So Jon decided trying something man
had use, a fixed-wing for his fast descent.
He flapped ’til fifty MPH and then
held his wings still and only slightly bent.
From two thousand feet, plunging without lulls
he set the world recorded speed for gulls.


5. Speed Record
He set the world recorded speed for gulls.
exceeding ninety MPH- then crashed.
Unconscious still dreamed of lofty goals
and sought to solve that problem, unabashed.
He woke with wings like ragged bars of lead
but weight of failure was still even worse.
He wished he’d simply sink and end up dead,
for failures seemed his own repeated curse.
But sinking low he heard a voice within
“I’m limited by nature, am I not?
If meant for speed I’d have wings short and thin-
like falcons and would not have to be taught. “
He’d join the flock, and once again act right,
by accident he flew toward home at night.


6. Epiphany
By accident he flew toward home at night;
“It’s dark!”, an inner voice intoned, get down!-
seagulls you know, will never find that right.”
If you were meant to fly at night you clown,
an owls eyes you’d have – also charts for brains
and the short wings of falcons… short wings- wait.”
The answer pushed a rushing through his veins,
short wings has been the missing needed trait.
So, now he rose two thousand feet above-
“I’ll fold my wings and fly on tips alone.”
No thought of death- pursuing what he loved
he “knew” that he’d just found his new speed zone.
Re-born, rejoiced, this single seagull mulls..
he’d found the inspiration Flock-thought dulls.


7.  200 MPH
He’d found the inspiration Flock-thought dulls.
He dove, his wings now clamped against his side
it was as if some laws he would annul.
At such amazing speed it was a ride.
The faintest twitch of wingtips promptly eased
him from his dive, and shot him over waves-
a cannonball of grey- and he was pleased;
His vows abandoned for the life he craves.
Now practice was required and sun- up found
him up five thousand feet above the fleet
about to dive again and to astound.
And that he did in manner not so neat.
He’d learned to speed but hadn’t planned it right;
he just missed hitting flock of gulls in flight.


8. Banished
He just missed hitting flock of gulls in flight.
but learned that day to turn at speed, the loop,
the roll, the pinwheel, too to his delight!
The Council came together as a group
and shamed him for his acts! He was cast out.
He spent the rest of his days all alone
but that was not what sorrow was about,
it was their missing what they might have known.
The flock refused the glory learning brought.
They would keep scrabbling after chopped fish heads
while delicious fresh fish were easily caught
by streamlined dives beneath the waves instead.
Then Jon saw how good life could really be,
the flock then cast him out and set him free.


9. Years later
The flock then cast him out and set him free.
Two gulls as pure as starlight flew beside
him- friendly, smiling; their wings couldn’t be
an inch from his wingtips on either side.
He tested them. One knot above stall speed,
then dives slow rolls and loops-they matched each move.
They passed completely every test indeed
“We’re brothers came their words so strong and smooth.
We’ve come to take you home for you have learned.
One school is finished, yet another waits.”
At last he said “I’m ready”, and up he turned
with gulls he knew were heaven’s delegates.
He’d spend his life at mental freedom’s helm;
his freedom took him to a higher realm

10. The Elder
His freedom took him to a higher realm.
The same old Jonathon looked through his eyes,
but form had changed enough to overwhelm.
Seagulls here all seemed satisfied and wise.
“Chiang…”, (said to one soon to leave this world),
this isn’t heaven after all is it?”
“Your wings are not the only part unfurled,
my son, you’re learning and will never quit.
And heaven’s not a time or place at all;
it’s being perfect- barriers all surpassed!
You’ll find perfection, if such speed’s your call,
when going any takes no time. That’s fast.
Keep learning son, and you’ll begin to see
where nothing lays beyond reality.”

11.  An Instructor
Where nothing lays beyond reality
Jon let his love become his life’s new goal.
He found some others outcast such as he,
and assumed what was meant to be his role.
When Fletcher Lynn Seagull became his charge,
outcast because his dream was just to fly,
Jon felt an obligation to discharge,
Jon taught him how- and more, he taught him why.
For now, ’twas not for him alone he strove,
but for all blinded by their seagull-hood.
He sought to share life’s very treasure trove,
to teach the Flock their blindness was not good.
The mission seemed to some to overwhelm
one needed only guidance at the helm.


12. Return to Flock
One needed only guidance at the helm.
and Jonathon was now the one to teach.
“Your mind can go to any place or realm;
there is no speed that lies beyond your reach.”
To his eight students he announced, “It’s now
that we return to Flock.” Some anguish rose
among his group. “By law we’re outcasts, how
can we return?” Jon told them how it goes.”
“We’re not now flock, and where we wish we go.”
and thus they flew, a tight formation group,
they were perhaps the very first airshow!
The Flock’s unblinking eyes all watched the troop.
Apart but near the students stretched their wings,
within Flock’s view Jon taught his crew new things.


13.  Overcoming the Physical
Within Flock’s view Jon taught his crew new things.
One day with dangling wing a gull approached
“I want to fly, but flying takes two wings…”
“You want to fly, and so you will Jon coached.
And when he did, he screamed, “Look at me fly!”
A thousand gulls approached the training class
now eager to be shown just how and why.
Jon taught that ritual habits must not last.
For laws restricting freedom are contrived;
they served up order only at great cost,
and while the Flock continued to survive
the thrill of living freely has been lost.
When soul is free that’s when a gull’s heart sings;
To fly was so much more than flapping wings


14.  Passing the Torch
To fly was so much more than flapping wings
Your body’s just a picture in your mind,
Your spirit’s where reality now clings.
You’re anywhere you want to be, you’ll find.
When Jonathon left- thought himself away,
a student stepped into the teacher role.
And Fletcher knew that he too’d learn some day
and teleport to Jon on beach or shoal.
For while we’re here and now it’s also true
that now is also everywhere right now
and quantum physics makes up part of you
through multi-universes anyhow.
Enlightenment won’t come as soon for some
but living free will someday let it come.


To fly was so much more than flapping wings
So tight a curve he tried, he stalled and fell.
Conform they said, try doing natural things.
Nope! I’m going to fly and soon excel.
He set the world recorded speed for gulls.
By accident he flew toward home at night;
he found the inspiration Flock-thought dulls.
He just missed hitting flock of gulls in flight.
The flock then cast him out and set him free.
His freedom took him to a higher realm
where nothing lays beyond reality,
one needed only guidance at the helm.
Within Flock’s view Jon taught his crew new things;
to fly was so much more than flapping wings



© Lawrencealot – March 12, 2014

Author’s Notes:

Jonathan Livingston Seagull, written by Richard Bach, 
is a fable in novella form about a seagull learning about life
and flight, and a homily about self-perfection. 
It was first published in 1970 as “Jonathan Livingston Seagull — a story.”

Published March 12, 2014 on Allpoetry.com by Lawrence Eberhart.

Heroic Crown Of Sonnets: The Warrior’s Tale

She was a warrior with mighty sword,
A huntsman’s daughter, now she lived alone
Her parents dead, the lodge beside a forde
Was solely hers, the place that she called home.
The cottage bordered mighty forest trees
Whose trunks stood strong to guard the magic there,
For fairy kingdom stood under the leaves
Of sacred living tree, so gold and fair.
For many years the fairies had known bliss
Until a threat foretold became stark fact,
And so they came in search of mighty Miss
In hopes that they could make a fairy pact.
They came to her, resplendent on their wings,
They asked that she be champion for their king.

They asked that she be champion for their king,
Defend the realm and hidden golden boughs
Of tree that held all magic in its rings,
The key to all that happy life allowed.
They told her of the prophecy forseen
Of evil come to drain the forest life,
Of blackened leaves within the lofty green
Of hardship come, of famine and of strife.
She didn’t hesitate to heed their call
And strapping sword across her broadened back
Strode off with them into the forest sprawl,
Winding their way along the piney track.
Into the mists, that peace might be restored
She went with them to meet the fairy lord.

She went with them to meet the fairy lord
A king with greying beard, upon his throne,
At his right hand the queen they all adored
And to his left, the son he called his own.
The prince’s eyes were like the bluest sky
The maiden felt his call with single glance,
An instant flare of love bound them with sighs
And deep abiding ties of true romance.
He took her then to see the magic tree
Within a garden, beautiful it glowed
And underneath its spreading golden leaves
They kissed and sealed their fates, as true love flowed.
The warrior at heart, now felt the cling,
There prince and maiden joined by passion’s sting.

There prince and maiden joined by passion’s sting
But time was not with them, the threat was clear,
And barely with a chance for love to sing
The army of the trolls drew ever near.
The fairies, prince and champion marched to war
With armor bright and tireless winged steeds,
And pushed back at the army as they bore
Down on the forest home with evil needs.
And then from out their ranks came wicked mage
Who sought to drive the fairies from their lands,
And capture all the magic in bondage
So he could then fulfill his dreadful plans.
He drew his darkness, bold and with intent,
The mage would see all fairies in torment.

The mage would see all fairies in torment
Or so he wished, he thought he could not fail
His magic was so strong, the ground was rent
And cracks split earth along the grassy vale.
But warrior, she felt her anger spread
She cried for justice for the fairy ground,
And raising sword so high above her head
She rallied fairy troupes to gather round.
A magic came right forth, with silver light
The steel within her hands began to glow
She was surprised, but recognized the might
Of good that from the blade began to flow.
Embracing right, she stood upon the field,
The maiden had a magic sword to wield.

The maiden had a magic sword to wield
A mighty talisman to lead the fight,
And all the trolls around her had to yield
Or die upon her blade of silver light.
Across the bloodied grass she made her way
There in the centre faced the evil man,
He gathered in his dark to make her pay,
Dark clashed with light, and thwarted blackest plan.
A blinding flash illuminated all
A cry screamed out and then a quiet hush,
And from it strode the warrior, still tall
The fairies gathered round her in a rush.
The evil gone, the darkness had been spent,
Upon the field, the mage lay cold and bent.

Upon the field, the mage lay cold and bent,
Their champion had saved the land they loved,
The fairies so rejoiced and then they sent
A message to the king, with snow white dove.
The prince rode closely by her side with pride
And love swelled further in his fairy chest,
And he intended, at end of their ride
To ask her for her hand, and felt so blessed.
They came with triumph to the fairy court
And prince confessed his intent to his king,
But all his want it seemed was all for naught,
His royal highness refused his blessing.
They had their victory on the killing field,
But fairy king, for love, he would not yield.

But fairy king, for love, he would not yield
And prince was devastated by decree
His heart was to the maiden ever sealed
And without love he never would be free.
Then in the west, a greater evil grew
The mage’s brother had heard of his death,
And gathering an army quickly flew
To get revenge, even with dying breath.
They came so fast, the ground hummed with their tread
But fairy kingdom did not heed the signs
Their guard let down, they did not feel the dread
As they feasted and drank the summer wines.
But prince and maiden did not join the ball
They had found love, then seemed to lose it all.

They had found love, then seemed to lose it all
When king had said she could not be his bride,
So warrior returned home to the fall
Of passion’s hurts, and all alone she cried.
She grasped the mighty sword within her hands
And there on gleaming blade she saw the lines,
Within a twisting scrawl and lovely bands
Writ tale of once princess within the shine.
The tale was hers, she read with widened eyes
And knew the truth of power from her blade,
And saw that her upbringing was a guise,
Protection from a royal court betrayed.
She rose as princess from her lowly bed
She could not get the prince out of her head.

She could not get the prince out of her head
And he still pined, the loss made him a shell,
They both could feel the air, impending dread
Clung to the land, the magic wasn’t well.
The brother mage had gained the forest edge
And crept into the kingdom in the dark
And coming to the garden, kept his pledge
Touching his magic to the sacred bark.
The fairy kingdom heard the horrid cry
The sacred tree it wept and branches browned,
And all shook out their wings and took to sky
In defense of the fairy kingdom’s crown.
There was a deadly panic, lethal pall,
They had to save the kingdom, lest it fall

They had to save the kingdom, lest it fall
For without magic soon the land would die
But evil brother called his troops, they all
Swarmed over defenses with lofty cry.
The leaves upon the tree began to wilt
And lost their golden colour as they fell,
The land began to sicken as the gilt
Faded from tree, and evil came to dwell.
The fairies knew they needed champion
To help save them from their impending doom
And so they sent a herald to maiden
To implore her to help the sickened bloom.
They knew with certainty of horrid dread
She was the only one could stop the spread.

She was the only one could stop the spread,
She grabbed her mighty sword and ran to aid
Her anger swift, her vision clouded red
The magic thrummed within the steely blade.
She joined the fight, side by side with her prince
And cleaved the bodies of the troll army,
The clang of steel was rhythm to evince
The rage with which she faced the enemy.
The evil brother saw her power then
And saw to strike her at the very heart,
So gathering the magic of the glen
He aimed to tear the very world apart.
And there beneath the dying sacred tree
Brother brought prince with magic to his knees.

Brother brought prince with magic to his knees,
The maiden’s heart was torn there into shreds
And everything before her seemed to freeze
As prince fell down and on the ground he bled.
Her sword rose up, it flashed with blinding light
And smote the mage with all its raging charge,
Just as his brother had fell to her might
He died right there, a life no longer large.
She rushed to side of her beautiful man
And held him close and looked into blue eyes
He told her then how much he loved, the span
And while she held him in her arms he died.
With sweet prince gone, upon the floating breeze,
She knew right then a pain that pierced and seized.

She knew right then a pain that pierced and seized
And watched the blight spread from the dying tree
She saw that love was lost, would not be eased
But swore that princely death would set them free.
She drew her blade within his blood and joined
His soul once more to hers for final task,
And plunging steel into the ground conjoined
Her magic with his fairy blood at last.
The blood flowed strong and fed the sacred plant
The blush returned to leaves, the golden hue
And as the sun rose, beams in yellow slant
Brought warmth and life, the tree had been renewed.
The fairy kingdom had been saved, but cost
A prince his life, a love forever lost.

She was a warrior with mighty sword
They asked that she be champion for their king
She went with them to meet the fairy lord
There prince and maiden joined by passion’s sting.
The mage would see all fairies in torment
The maiden had a magic sword to wield,
Upon the field, the mage laid cold and bent,
But fairy king, for love, he would not yield.
They had found love, then seemed to lose it all,
She could not get the prince out of her head,
They had to save the kingdom, lest it fall
She was the only one could stop the spread.
Brother brought prince with magic to his knees
She knew right then a pain that pierced and seized.

Created March 2014 by Virginia Archer on Allpoetry.com.

Heroic Crown of Sonnets: The Princess (Sensual)

I stood upon the ancient parapet,
yes, recklessly atop the castle walls
the stone was slick, and gray and still so wet
from rain that night had brought with heavy fall.
My room below was safe, and dry and pink;
a letter waited there on filmy bed;
high, high upon the wall I went to think
to clear the sighs and tangles from my head.
The letter had a seal that made me cold,
it glittered in the window’s dawny light;
I knew the ink inside would be black, bold;
unopened, it had lay there all the night.
I walked the parapet in ache and doubt;
my gown was caught by wind and blown about.
My gown was caught by wind and blown about;
I wobbled then, and grasped a jutting wall,
but let it go; yes, heedlessly I’d flout
caution’s bounds and tempt a deadly fall;
I didn’t care; my stomach thrilled inside
to see how high, how very high I stood;
I lifted chin, and arms I opened wide
and played at bird; I thought the feeling good.
I frolicked then, atop the windy stone
and felt the wind press right against my eyes;
I stumbled back to roof, too fiercely blown
but parapet I climbed again; this rise
did not concern me with its heady threat;
I gave great thought to where each foot was set.
I gave great thought to where each foot was set;
another hour I spent there in the sun,
until the stone showed not a bit of wet
and I was tired of airy, windy fun.
Then I sought out my room and letter there,
which waited still; I broke the royal seal
and thick black words then rose and grimly stared
quite heedless of the way they made me feel.
My father wrote; he ordered me away
to meet him in great castle in the east.
A bridegroom waited, in his fine array,
a mighty match was made, and mighty feast.
I packed my trunks, and trousseau and my flute,
I wore my beaded shoes along my route.
I wore my beaded shoes along my route,
they made me feel that all would turn out well;
but then the man could be a wicked brute;
we’d never met, I had no way to tell.
My father made me travel in disguise;
in abbot’s clothes I traveled with the priests,
and in this way he kept me from men’s eyes-
so few I’d seen! (They told me men were beasts.)
We traveled days; a man then joined our train;
I saw his face! I loved! My heart was hot!
I watched him through the window and in pain;
desire stirred; but this I’d never sought.
I pulled my clothes away from legs within;
the sun was bright and warmed my chilly skin.
The sun was bright and warmed my chilly skin;
the man was walking by my carriage door;
I loved the beard upon his very chin,
I felt no woman ever loved before!
We stopped the night in town with so few rooms,
and host, unknowing, bunked the man with me!
I called him to my bed, my longing womb
then told me there was something more to see…
He thought me man, so I pulled off my clothes
and offered then my troth to plight and give
or he should leave! He said, “My passion shows!
Yes! Give me ring and share the life I live!”
He taught me joy throughout that magic night!
I laughed deep, low, with sweetness of delight.
I laughed deep, low, with sweetness of delight,
we didn’t sleep at all, and glared at dawn;
and though we saw the coming of the light
we didn’t want love’s night to be all gone
so we ignored the stirring of the place
and while I sat atop my thrilling steed
the door swung open, and an old man’s face
showed shock and horror; horror yes indeed!
For Holy Abbot was not even man!
And more than that, he was a princess, high!
And more than that (he couldn’t understand!)
the princess was in bed! Her royal thighs!
Astonished, he went out the door again.
A man called Jove knew all my secret sin.
A man called Jove knew all my secret sin,
he was a knight who served my father well;
my troth was plighted, but I knew just then
the worth of that- for Jove of course would tell.
But what of journey? And the waiting groom?
It was too late- I loved- it was too late.
Unless of course, they sent my love to tomb;
my father’s anger might not hesitate.
The man I loved was high born and well made,
his name was Samuel; pleasant was his wit;
a rugged swordsman, skilled with many blades-
yes, surely surely, they’d see he was fit.
I pulled him near, and held him very tight;
the past’s black chains seemed paper in the light.
The past’s black chains seemed paper in the light;
a wedding now seemed black and full of fear
unless to he I bound with in the night;
yes, bound with well and truly, charming dear!
And still we moved through hills and moors and streams,
onward, onward, to reach my father’s halls;
but half the time I was immersed in dreams
of Samuel’s whispers and his passion calls.
I gave up costume, and let Samuel ride
in royal carriage, cuddled up to me,
but sometimes we would walk at carriage side
along stone paths, beneath the spreading trees.
I was so glad, so glad, he was my own;
I danced; my pretty steps rang out on stone.
I danced; my pretty steps rang out on stone;
he laughed and kissed, because my eyes were bright,
the knights were angry when we were alone
and kept us from each other in the night.
Yes, no one knew how Father might respond
and if this other marriage must be had,
the less that I was left to cling and bond
the less that I would think the marriage bad.
But all shook heads; no virgin now was I!
No holy prize! No lamb to shear with pride!
If diplomatic favors I would buy
far fewer now would buy this unchaste bride.
My father might have much to say to me!
The wind picked up and roared most dismally.
The wind picked up and roared most dismally,
we stayed the night with Duke in castle keep;
I tossed and turned, a restless, churning sea;
within the mighty bed I couldn’t sleep.
I called my maid and made her rub my back,
but still I sighed, and listened to the wind,
and to the castle’s groan and heave and crack;
the old rooms talked and felt like gentle friend.
At last I sent Suzanne back to her bed
and leaned my face against the window glass,
so wishing, wishing, wishing I was wed
and all the worry was already past.
While sitting in the window all alone,
I felt sweet love roar up in every bone.
I felt sweet love roar up in every bone,
and I got up, and pulled on velvet cloak,
and went right then to seek what was my own,
I found his room, himself, his kiss, his stroke…
Once more the night was spent as nights should be
and we were laughing in the candlelight.
I said, “You know you’re risking death for me…
Are you afraid it might not turn out right?”
He said, “My time with you is worth the rest;
if I should die, I die a man well loved,
and loved by you, I’d die a man well blessed;
I’ve had the joys they say they have above.”
He said, “Come stand and turn, and let me see.”
I spun, while joy was throbbing up in me.
I spun, while joy was throbbing up in me,
and he delighted in my flesh and reached
to graze the hips then turning, turning free
before he seized, and huskily, beseeched.
I gave him what he wished and loving, craved,
and softly kissed his chest, and neck and cheeks;
I paused to pray to God he would be saved-
that we would have the favor honor seeks.
I went back to my rooms through quiet halls
the guards, asleep, then never moved or stirred.
With dawn, I feared my father’s love was small
though in the past he’d praised my every word.
But then he might roar “Death!” while Samuel fell…
I knew my secret I would have to tell.
I knew my secret I would have to tell;
and we were almost there! Oh what a thing!
And yet what if instead, I had done “well”
and never told my love or traded rings,
and married other man while loving him?
Yes, surely that is sinning just as much
as telling truth. Perhaps it is more prim
to wait for priest before the wedded touch,
but if I had, no chance would then remain;
my only chance of love was love embraced.
But we were there! Would darling man be slain?
I entered court and saw my father’s face!
I trembled with a fear I couldn’t quell!
I spoke the truth, and then I fell! I fell!
I spoke the truth, and then I fell! I fell!
The bridegroom waited there, and royal priest.
My father rose and looked at Samuel well.
A perfect silence reigned- all movement ceased.
My father called my name and made me stand;
he said, “So this man pleases you, my dear?”
I said, “My heart so loves his fine command
I couldn’t bear a life without him near.”
My father said, “We’ve sought a tie for years
with Samuel’s house. The wedding is tonight.
You’ve done a thing that bribes and war and tears
could never bring to terms or friendly light.
My daughter, you have done a royal thing
with little hands, and sweetly traded rings.
I stood upon the ancient parapet,
my gown was caught by wind and blown about,
I gave great thought to where each foot was set,
I wore my beaded shoes along my route.
The sun was bright and warmed my chilly skin;
I laughed deep, low, with sweetness of delight.
a man called Jove knew all my secret sin,
the past’s black chains seemed paper in the light.
I danced; my pretty steps rang out on stone,
the wind picked up and roared most dismally;
I felt sweet love roar up in every bone,
I spun, while joy was throbbing up in me;
I knew my secret I would have to tell;
I spoke the truth, and then I fell! I fell!

Catherine of Aragon, Queen of England (Sonnet Redoubled)

Catherine of Aragon, Queen of England IBorn Catalina, regal child of Spain,
to two joint sovereigns of great renown,
she’d study various subjects and would train
in household arts where she could hold her own.Her father Ferdinand by stroke of fate
inherited the crown of Aragon.
Her mother Isabel, an equal mate,
was ruling queen of Castile and Leon.
This union started Spanish unity.
Iberian Moors and Jews were then expelled.
Columbus sailed to famed discovery.
The empire burgeoned while its coffers swelled.
But Spain was never meant for Catherine.
She was destined to be the English queen.

¨*•.¸¸¸¸.•*¨*• ..•*» ♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸

Catherine of Aragon, Queen of England II

She was destined to be the English queen.
A treaty signed when she was only three
pledged the infanta to the Englishmen:
to wed Prince Arthur, heir and king-to-be.
Stuck four days in Corunna, weather struck;
the ships were damaged badly, one was lost.
Repairs for six weeks: what a stressful luck!
They sailed for three months to the British coast.
And now the English people were rejoiced.
The quay was teeming when they were to land.
The church bells chimed; felicities were voiced
by locals and by foreigners on hand.
The people loved the princess out of Spain.
All England cheered the prospect of her reign.

¨*•.¸¸¸¸.•*¨*• ..•*» ♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸

Catherine of Aragon, Queen of England IIIAll England cheered the prospect of her reign. 
She traveled through the English countryside.
A Negro trumpeter among her train 
announced her presence, quite a novel ride.
To Dogmersfield King Henry VII went
to see the princess earlier than he should.
So did Prince Arthur; everybody spent
the night in dancing, all in festive mood.
In London, trumpet blares and cannon booms
marked royally the couple’s wedding day.
The king dispatched to Wales both groom and groom’s 
enchanting bride — the people’s hearts to sway.
The princess stirred and charmed, whenever seen,
that strange new land she reached at age fifteen.¨*•.¸¸¸¸.•*¨*• ..•*» ♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸


Catherine of Aragon, Queen of England IV
That strange new land she reached at age fifteen
was suddenly transformed from joy to gloom.
A sweating sickness fell upon the scene
and took the Prince of Wales in youthful bloom.
The princess too was ailed but she survived.
Her illness kept her bound to bed for weeks.
With special care she later on revived,
The rosy hue refound upon her cheeks.
Her marriage ended in a luckless lurch,
a teenage widow left without a child.
She was so true to God and to the church:
why was she now deprived as though exiled?
The king would marry her, which Spain denied.
First Arthur’s, she became his brother’s bride.*•.¸¸¸¸.•*¨*• ..•*» ♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸

Catherine of Aragon, Queen of England VFirst Arthur’s, she became his brother’s bride.
But first a papal bull should be secured.
“A man”, a canon law specified,
“can’t wed his brother’s widow” — in a word.
It was argued that Catherine remained
a virgin through her marriage, quickly ceased.
This meant it was not valid; she retained
the right to marry Henry, this was stressed.
The pope’s decision was favorable;
She was now free to be young Henry’s wife.
Till then her household stayed miserable
with not enough funds in support of life.
Old Henry journeyed to the Great Unknown.
Young Henry just ascended to the throne.¨*•.¸¸¸¸.•*¨*• ..•*» ♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸

Catherine of Aragon, Queen of England VI

Young Henry just ascended to the throne.
Reforms enacted made him most revered.
He freed the jailed; officials of his own
replaced the ones whom folks abhorred and feared.
His father left a hefty treasury.
The gifted son had varied interests:
Sports, music, writing, arts and industry. 
The English navy bloomed and faced its tests.
It was their happy time of married life:
A dozen years or so of mutual love.
The king was as religious as his wife;
Their partnership seemed blessed by God above.
Her royal pedigree was Europe-wide.
The Tudors’ right to rule solidified.

¨*•.¸¸¸¸.•*¨*• ..•*» ♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸

Catherine of Aragon, Queen of England VIIThe Tudors’ right to rule solidified,
Helped to a great extent by Catherine.
She was blue-blooded through and through beside
Her skills and virtues, fitting for a queen.
She even acted as ambassador 
Of Spain to England — five successful years.
Each winter she provided for the poor:
Clothes, fuel, money, food and goodly cheers.
To her the king confided, at the start.
There was no sign of any stress or threat.
He proudly jousted as Sir Loyal Heart:
He wore her scarf, his trophies at her feet.
The queen herself had claim upon the throne
Through her superior bloodline, little known.¨*•.¸¸¸¸.•*¨*• ..•*» ♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸

Catherine of Aragon, Queen of England VIII

Through her superior bloodline, widely known,
Queen Catherine had royal English root.

From John of Gaunt she came down, on her own,
through two unquestioned royal lines to boot.
Her offspring then would have a solid lock
upon the English throne by right of birth.
Thus when a son was born, the land would rock
with celebrations, full of joy and mirth.
Alas, the Prince of Wales was not destined
to bring about a lasting happiness.
Child Henry died ere two months passed, unsinned:
a brief bliss, then an era of distress.
That she was luckless couldn’t be so true.
She gave birth to six children, quite a few.

¨*•.¸¸¸¸.•*¨*• ..•*» ♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸

Catherine of Aragon, Queen of England IXShe gave birth to six children, quite a few. 
On her third pregnancy, King Henry sailed

to fight a war in France; and to pursue
his claim upon the French throne, but he failed.
He won some battles though and thereby seized
some cities — thus regaining English pride.
But while away French allied Scotsmen squeezed
upon the border, movement quickly spied.
The queen was left as regent, so as head
she readied England for the looming fight.
At Flodden Field, the Earl of Surrey led
the English troops and put the Scots to flight.
With her six children, Tudor blood should thrive.
But three sons died, a daughter would survive.¨*•.¸¸¸¸.•*¨*• ..•*» ♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸

Catherine of Aragon, Queen of England X

But three sons died, a daughter would survive.
That could well serve as fitting epithet
for Catherine whom Fate would soon deprive
of happiness despite her queenly feat.
To further establish the Tudor line,
The king was greatly anxious for a son.
Though rival claims had ceased or in decline,
New trouble might erupt if he were gone.
The king began to treat her dismally;
with people though, she kept her love affair.
The queen engrossed herself with charity
and raising daughter Mary as an heir.
For all her worth, she didn’t get her due.
The king diminished her in public view.¨*•.¸¸¸¸.•*¨*• ..•*» ♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸ 

 

Catherine of Aragon, Queen of England XIThe king diminished her in public view
but Catherine remained quite popular.
He sought a male heir (with somebody new)
as to avert another civil war.
Since England never had a ruling queen,
so Mary’s prospect was a risky thing.
He asked annulment but then Catherine
rejected such proposal by the king.
His envoys now scoured Europe for support,
the pope’s assent most crucial to obtain.
And then the queen was banished from the court,
her old rooms occupied by Anne Boleyn.
‘Twas sad how so low would her fortunes dive.
But she behaved quite queenly while alive.¨*•.¸¸¸¸.•*¨*• ..•*» ♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸

Catherine of Aragon, Queen of England XII

But she behaved quite queenly while alive
though fate and fortune shook her up and down.
In gracious times her queenly traits would thrive;
the bad times showed that she deserved her crown.
The people faithfully supported her
(while Anne Boleyn was vilified and mocked).
When riding out, the crowds would wildly cheer
that left the king and privy council shocked.
“Inciting to rebellion!” she was warned
with threats to move from London and her child.
The king had willed, the people’s wish be darned,
to void their tie through forceful means or mild.
She wouldn’t give up for material gain.
One final painful blow would yet remain.

¨*•.¸¸¸¸.•*¨*•

 ..•*» ♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸

Catherine of Aragon, Queen of England XIIIOne final painful blow would yet remain.
She couldn’t just renounce her legal right

and that of Mary — oh, the mother’s pain!
Her means constricted, she pursued the fight.
Those siding with the king received rewards:
appointments, money and the monarch’s grace.
Those siding with the queen soon afterwards
were jailed, dismissed or barred to see her face.
The king’s “great matter” reached its peak at home
when Anne got pregnant, an affair of state.
The Church of England broke away from Rome
so that the child be born legitimate.
But ere the break,a secret wedded twain:
The king in secret married Anne Boleyn.¨*•.¸¸¸¸.•*¨*• ..•*» ♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸

Catherine of Aragon, Queen of England XIV

The king in secret married Anne Boleyn,
his powers soon would span religion’s scope.
And thus began Britannia’s willful reign
that answered to no overlord nor pope.
But Catherine was just as quick and tough:
she’d writ both pope and holy emperor
that no war should be waged on her behalf.
She wrote not after schism — but before!
Her health declined with her diminished lot:
she’d moved to lesser castles, seldom seen.
Though she was buried in an abby plot,
the people still regarded her as queen.
The height of queenliness she did attain.
Born Catalina, regal child of Spain.¨*•.¸¸¸¸.•*¨*• ..•*» ♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸

 Catherine of Aragon, Queen of England XV
Born Catalina, regal child of Spain,
She was destined to be the English queen.
All England cheered the prospect of her reign.
That strange new land she reached at age fifteen
First Arthur’s, she became his brother’s bride.
Young Henry just ascended to the throne.
The Tudors’ right to rule solidified,
Through her superior bloodline, widely known,
She gave birth to six children, quite a few.
But three sons died, ONE daughter would survive.
The king diminished her in public view
But she behaved quite queenly while alive
One final painful blow would yet remain.
The king in secret married Anne Boleyn.
¨*•.¸¸¸¸.•*¨*• ..•*» ♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸
(c) Lawrence R. Eberhart and Jose M. Rizal Reyes -November 2013