The Bloody Tower
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Dedicated to my good friend and history buff, Arthur Vaso, I hope you enjoy this poem
About the Tower of London, and the sad story of she whom is trapped within and on
It's grounds.
THE BLOODY TOWER
I am so trapped a phantom princess, on an ethereal plain, spiritually
Forgotten in isolation's domain, in hell's chamber of brick and mortar,
In this imprisonment of the unjust, I'm the innocent accursed, in England's
Bloody tower of London.
Once beauties most desired, men and kings fell before my velvet slippers,
Begging for pleasures tokens, yet I denounce them, for youth's rose I'd not sell,
Except for devotion's everlasting love.
But men are beasts, with silver tongues of deceit, and the blind heart
Hears only the charming words of vow's promises, spoken beneath the
Moonlight's enchanting spell I fell, a victim of this viper's poisonous bite.
So did thus a royal seducer come unto me, and by a jeweled crown,
And golden bands, I believed in this the usurper, of betrayals broken
Hearted.
Blessed in wedding's sacred church, we bowed our heads low, yet
Next to me did I not recognize, the wolf hidden beneath the royal robes.
In the bed chamber, he sheds his linens of refinement, and then so exposed,
To the innocent lamb, his sharpened talons, ravished by his carnal lust,
A child bride was so sacrificed, upon the altar of passion's desires.
At mornings first rays of light, the mighty cobra left his bedding's nest,
Leaving behind him a slain creature tarnished by his royal scepter, laughing
In harmony's revelry, with his newly weeping court jester, did this king
Of lies ascend unto his crimson throne, ready to seek another's affection.
Condemned and judged by a jury of mine own kinsmen, for falsehood's
Crimes, my destiny’s fate is to be cut short by a doubled edge blade.
Oh Lord let my hearts sparrow take flights heights, and soar unto thee,
On thy far distant shore, but no prayers answer could save me.
Led unto mine own gallows, I'm led a queen dethroned for the loss
Of her own innocence, the black hooded Grim Reaper smiles at me,
I so do stumble, than collapse.
Placing my shaved head onto the anvils cold steel, listening to the crowds
Screaming off with her head, than a sudden crack, and my life is ended.
A phantom princess am I, wandering from the castle battlements,
To the gardens of fragrant roses, but nay not one step further, for all
Eternity.
From my window's keep, the world outside does change, yet here all
Remains the same, repetitions loop of reflective remote viewing,
Reliving the past over and over again.
If this not be hell's vengeance upon me, the accused than what have
I, the innocent done, to deserve such torture.
In the bloody tower, the walls do so bleed crimson red, and ghostly
Images past nay by the window pains of glass, begging for freedoms
Release from shackles made of mists mystical chains,
Pray for them, the lost souls of histories forgotten.
Copyright © Cherl Dunn | Year Posted 2014
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