Inside m'womb an infant rages
ready for birth in a fortnight.
Life 'tis precious; I travel
wings on heels, feet in flight.
Seeking safety from our Queen
whom thy sire hasten to please.
Graveled I did; begging thou life
thus beaten whilst on m'knees.
Calm thou self m'tiny babe
allow ye journey to be made.
Running 'tis the only way
escaping thy fathers blade.
Soon love to mother's breast
thy feast of sweet cream.
The world 'twill hear not
one birthing pang or scream.
Ye shall grow b'coming tall
like da's handsome dark knights.
That use to taketh thy mother
to our King's arms each night.
Hate him not; he hast me heart
son I adore, still I love.
Thou art the gift of passion
I stole from heaven above.
M'Prince, me Angel!
Author notes
picture inspired:
Picture is Dark Mother by minnaloushe
http://minnaloushe.deviantart.com/art/Dark-Mother-43056992
In a list
A contest entry
- Pictured Inspired once more by whispernthedark.
775 points, ended June 7, 2008, 11 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
-
Wow, you gave this picture an amazing story! Great write, thank you for entering the contest, good luck.
♥
whisper
-
Here comes the beginning of a novel. I can see it now. Historic backdrop and the conflicts of war metaphor for the tortured soul of the son.
Lov, Tom B.
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i have always thought you were a reincarnation from the 18th century, thats why your little sonnets are so gorgeous xx oh and good luck , you will win xx
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