The shortness of her step
silencing her feet,
the tremor in her breath,
meek eyes shyly peek.
A geisha girl she was,
(that life had just begun,)
young Cio Cio San
graceful as a swan,
played and sang sad songs.
Lieutenant Pinkerton, US of A
from a family very fine,
philanderer and heel -
reputation of a swine,
It wasn’t very long
he heard her sing and play,
this lovely young geisha
stole his breath away,
sent flutters ’cross his chest,
a butterfly to ‘lay to rest,’
soon in his arms did lie.
He named her Madam Butterfly.
As his shipmates would retort,
‘one more flower one more port.’
He took her as a concubine,
the other wife deposed
for gentle Cio Cio San
( a lotus for a rose.)
She shared his selfish world
and adored him with a will.
“I’m yours until I die” she wept
such joyful happiness instilled.
No matter family opposed
the tender trap she chose.
Until one day she heard him say.
I must go back, sail away
But I’ll return Cio Cio San,
I will, for I am your man.
As the vessel left the bay
courage now began to fray.
She knelt and prayed to God above
when she felt it move,
their child of love.
In father’s house she bore a son.
It pleased her well, a small new life,
easing the pain until one day
cheers were coming from the bay,
people laughing clearing a way
for Pinkerton - on his arm a wife
and as he passed she realised
no recognition flood his eyes,
with head bent low she softly cried
for wasted years she now despised.
She turned and ran, too much to see
arms that bound him effortless
while birds sang in the cherry tree
outside the Inn Of Happiness
Honour! It would serve her well
there was no place to hide.
With no forbidden price to pay.
for a broken heart that swelled
into mighty tides of yesterdays.
On her fathers sword she fell.
What was it kept her holding on?
midst all the wailing there was one
warm tear upon her cheek.
Large hands held her very close
kissing delicate fingertips.
once more familiar to her lips.
and whispering he said.
Oh Cio Cio San,
I have and will
always be your man,
(c) B Evans
In a list
A contest entry
- Winklings # 179 ~ For Winklings and Friends from AP ~ Characters from Fiction by Lyndon.
1750 points, ended May 27, 8 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 19 of 19
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Pinkerton
Everyone slagging off Pinkerton brings out the counter-intuitive in me. But I have loved this opera since I was a child, and the famous aria 'Un bel di vedremo'. V original to think of doing such a thing.
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Thank you for reading my humble effort, although I know it is far from grand.
I too love the opera, especially the aria
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There are a few little things needing an editor's attention,
but what an effort! And you maintained the story and passion through all of those rhymed lines!
Dear poet, thank you for being strong enough to compose this and then to present it here.
Your poem puts simply what the opera communicates sophisticatedly through famous arias and orchestrations and duets, etc. , and your poem is no mean feat.
The fact is that your narrative arouses sympathy and loathing for the appropriate characters.
Thank you so much for your entry.
Lyndon of the Winklings.
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Thank you Ron for your fine comment. and get well very soon,
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Ah poor Cio Cio San
Butterfly, my favorite opera, how well you tell this ageless
tale, how well you portray the actors on the stadge, I could hear her aria as i read well done
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Thank you. funny but only this afternoon I heard Mario Lanza and
Catherine Grayson sing part of this very opera, very moving. -
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I have a remixed CD of that sigh
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So intense and grabbing. Wow, astonishing. so glad you shared it. I'm also left feeling like that guy is such an a-hole, kinda like it was his plan to be rid of her. Such a great poem
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Well in a way he was n A as he was already a married man.
I'm glad you liked it though.
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I'm left feeling angry at that bloke. So I guess that means you told the story well . It captivated me all the way. Such a detailed story told in a language easy to understand yet slightly different, giving a distinct flavour to this write. Very well done...alby
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A story of the the dregs of war==Women. that is why he makes you angry.
It must have happened thousands of times, Thank you for reading -
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The dregs of war...wow, that is one way to put it. So sad really. You portrayed it well here in your poem though.
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Bravo
Good thing the title "Madame Butterfly",promted me to read this. Such a common story told over and over again. You constructed this so beautifuly! A beautiful write with such real emotions touching the reader. I cry easily,but this time, I shed a tear,but deep in my soul. Nice work, and Good luck. -
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That is such a lovely thing to say, I so appreciate your stopping by to read
thank you
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Outstanding
I didn't know the story of madame butterfly and so I found this poem intriguing. I thought this was an inspirational poem to read - the rhyme was strong throughout and you added so much depth and color with your phrases. Thanks for an enjoyable read. Best of luck in the contest.
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It is a story that must have been repeated many many times
over the last century,( when men found the east) Thank you for a lovely comment
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The title drew my attention, since I loved the play Madam Butterfly (and M. Butterfly as well, hehe). And although your poem is somewhat long, I enjoyed reading it since I felt its expression was very deep. Even with the rhyming it seemed to flow nicely.
Thanks for sharing this write, and good luck in the contest.
~Sparrow -
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It is a bit long but it is a story that cannot be expressed in few lines, I am so glad you liked it
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it was a possionate and emosional and full of heart
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