can cataclysmic courtliness chatter be captivating in the casaba
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • August 31–September 6, 2026)
In bathing herself
Her time she takes
The cream must be rubbed in
And her skin massaged
Her beauty Could none match
Her charm A spell cast on all
Her crown Everyone called ethereal
Her robe Queen Elizabeth couldn't possess
In style did she appear
With majesty through the aisle she walked
How stately she beside me stood
Like the goddess of beauty
It was said
With such courtliness
No royal blood possessed
In solemnity she said 'I do'
I do! I do! I do!
Mine forever she is to behold
Man and wife we'll forever be
My bride - is her name
Her name is - my bride.
Shadows form a discreet curtain shrouding love's address
Entering the hypnotic stage, stardust caress
Refracting moonbeams sweep balcony focusing spotlight on gleaming tress
Endeared minstrel plucks heart strings wooing his princess
Nightingale perches in love's apron unbridled passion to express
A romantic balad with blithe melody, congruent harmony; decorum to dress
Dancing to the orchestra, striking a subordinate note; fealty to impress
Enthralled audience captivated by the last, ingratiating bow of courtliness
Medieval Stage vocabulary
apron: a stage that projects out into the audience area.
orchestra: orchestra pit is a lowered area between the stage and the audience.
An allegory, comparing theatrical play to wooing troubador.
What does he do that I don’t?
Oh, he writes on and on
Occasionally uses too much paper;
Then the spellbinding lines
“Part of the moon was falling down
West, dragging the whole sky with it.
Its light poured softly in her lap,
She spread her apron to it.”
Pure soft magic fills the room,
I slowly learn to breathe again.
Everything unnecessary stripped away,
The soul burnished till it glows.
These words joyously fit as no other
Where did he learn to do that?
I’d gladly go to Vermont and farm
If the secret were whispered in my ear.
A build up, slowly, carefully crafted story
Beguiling with its simplicity, takes unaware.
Captures the heart, won’t let go.
Not till later we know of the gift.
Softness, gentleness, moving reverence
Unfolding events, each in its own ordered time.
His spirit shared by intuitive words.
No Shakespearean courtliness here
Although that’s another story.
What need has a Vermont farmer
For pantaloons and sword
When he has the whole world.
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