poem 7 from The Ancient Elm
I am the Emperor of Thorns,
my reign a score of years.
Hobbled by majesty,
armored and enthroned
in a Castle of Illusion
built by my own hand.
‘Neath tapestries
of cobweb tatters:
assassins, magnates, fools
posture and plot
in endless intrigues;
necromancers
drink blood to tap the Untamed Wood;
scribes and clerics
twist my saga into dogma:
“…Wand to Sword to Scepter
Wand to Sword to Scepter
Wand to Sword to Scepter…”
a canticle of nostalgia
clutching like chains
in my majestical dungeon.
This is the poem that forms the third and final part of the triptych and is a direct opposite to The Court Of The Sun. I mimicked the structure and form but, instead of the speaker being filled with power, he is now a prisoner of the illusions he has built and accepted for himself. Every line in this poem matches up to one in The Court Of The Sun in order to really contrast between the beginning of the this persons 'reign' and where they find themselves twenty years later. In this position, it is hard to find a way out even when if possess all the power because you have become so out of touch with who and what you are that you can't tell the difference between the Court of the Sun and being an Emperor of Thorns. The next poem moves the cycle onwards.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment