Below is the poem entitled Prince of Time which was written by poet
Wings. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.
Read Poems by
A tale of love and destiny beyond this world . . . .
A fierce wind howls, dark clouds race across the horizon,
and beneath the hood draped over his face the man whispers;
Of a vast land with wild clear waters, of streaking sunrises and sunsets,
and woodlands in a thousand glorious shades of green.
This Prince of Time has heard her prayers call for him,
past time and destiny and beyond her tears have beckoned;
His mission to find her and together they will dwell in his ancient world,
she has waited for him all her life, never seeing his face.
Yet she loves him with all her heart and soul, this she knows,
over mountain peaks and rivers wild, through jungles lush he journeys;
Now, he stands in the shadows of her room in the mist of dawn,
her raven hair in tangles, her skin so pale it takes his breath.
He steps forward and reaches out a hand to touch her tears away,
and in that moment, he fades away, as if dust in the morning light;
A bird sings in the cool air and her room smells of the forest as she rises,
a soft touch has awaken her, a lover's caress, so gentle.
All that day she is haunted with unknown feelings of loneliness,
wandering the forest, she silently walks, lost in her dreamy thoughts;
He watches from the foliage, the hood covering his face still, the time soon,
she hesitates, moments pass, then he fades in the dappled light.
That night candlelight flickers on the walls of her bedroom,
it cast shadows in the corners, a gentle breeze fills the silence;
She sits at her dressing table brushing her hair until it shines in waves,
suddenly a wind catches the long strands and billows them about.
He stands behind her watching and slowly removes his hood,
she is not afraid as she stares into the mirror, she has been waiting;
Waiting for this man, as he twines his fingers in her hair and whispers,
taking her by the hand to the bed, it is time . . .
They find her in the morning, she is peaceful and deathly still,
her face pale against the white sheets, her lips lush and purple;
Her eyes closed to this world, she looks asleep, perhaps about to rise,
dark clouds drift in the sky and thunder rolls in the distance.
Raindrops begin to fall as the casket is lowered into the ground,
the small gathering bow their heads stepping forward to lay a flower;
Although, she had been an old lady, she had been buried in a beautiful gown,
of ivory, lace and beads as she had requested in her will.
Unseen by the mourners, a vision appears of a beautiful young woman,
with a handsome man, he holds her close within his strong arms;
His dark hair touching his shoulders and he looks with love into her face,
and he wraps his cloak around her as they become the rain.
July 21, 2013
For the contest, Epic-Mysterious, Poet Destroyer