The Boadicea Blood Cup
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"The Boadicea Blood Cup"
Didst thou think? Didst thou?
Didst thou think, at all?
That thou would remain untouched, unchecked, unscathed
Safely locked up away from mine wrath and thee, thy self-made grave?
Imprisoned in your Dark Lost Woods of evil pungent sulphuric devil greens,
Speaking like an uncast angel in soft tongue
who could do no evil nor speak no wrong
In the company of skulking spineless serpents slithering forever
cursed un-named forlorn?
Guarded ferociously by that rabid dog, thy gormless sibling, thy reckless servant and her preening false prerogatives - so vain, so arrogantly reeking the smell under her cur-like nose and feet, her overblown ego and unanimous disdain?
Didst thou sibling think?
Didst thou sibling think, at all?
That by thoughtless folly, abducting mine own White Queen’s world,
mine own Royal Swan Child, the then recalcitrant girl –
thou wouldst covet mine own Cygnet
to thine own sour, shrivelled milkless teat to suckle
In your barren, childless, soulless world?
Then, thee darkly re-coursed to read falsehood fables
to mine own World
As above, So below, full Circle of Eternity
You thought to close the portal
‘tween Cygnet and White Queen
Betrayal’s in thy blood
a bonded evil duo
Deceipt and lies make a bed of thorny lying thistles
Together in thy Assassins Bureau
Truth the soul,
is branded in the heart of the White Queen
LUX VITAE pumping through her veins
She quietly and ever powerfully
summons The Army of Me and
Reigns in the strongest spirits from her cerebral Heaven
She castes her spells with Sword of Truth,
raises to her God her Chalice
Places a hex on your dreams, cuts your Morpheus off with her Athame
Whispering incantations of darkest obsidian and midnight blues
She drinks the Blood Cup her final Quest, her ardent panacea
She sleeps alone with misanthropic glee
and dreams of slaying the dreaded Jabberwocky and
The gormless passive Red Witch Queen
Our Lionhearted White Queen
is now Brave Boadicea
Somewhere in a lonely tower
Royal Swan Child hears Boadicea’s song upon the winds and lobbies
In a strange bland place of political renown,
there’s something in the sound - A voice so distantly familiar,
from somewhere deep inside her heart-strings
she remembers that voice that sings
The child, now a young woman, understands the state of things
The signet ring means nothing.
Latin written in a stirling silver locket that she’s broken,
holds the key, holds every lesson to be learnt
True meaning of this time of vacant hurt.
The lost locket contains the spell which will bring her Home
For through these words in Silver Heart that’s closed
The rightful Queen will find her mother’s gift to her
A victory never thought, nor seen, ignored and never dreamed
Her never ending Freedom Powers
Cygnet is True Queen.
(Lovejoy-Burton/March 2018)
For my beloved daughter, Georgia.
"Nothing will keep a mother from her child, not even death." Leanne Lovejoy-Burton, WRITER.
Copyright © Leanne Lovejoy-Burton | Year Posted 2018
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