damsels in distress
often hoodwink chivalry
manhood bends the knee.
10 / 29 / 2025.
At this very moment coolies screamed, ‘train',
We scampered packing up our bags and bales,
A long-awaited train’s a certain bane,
But this one turned a boon, such were the tales,
An English gentleman hailed our hero
From his carriage and we parted to go
Our diverse ways—to our cattle-class seat,
There was no chance to know who that man was,
Nor yet more light on his tale could be lit,
Indeed, never-ending may prove some pause.
Some truths, some lies of life lie ever so,
Maybe, he took us as credulous fools,
A painful nerve and anxious seldom cools,
Some truths and lies born are never to know,
Perchance the man minted fun at our cost,
And damsels in distress lay buried, lost.
_____________________________________________
Narrative |01.04.2024|
Note: A poetic translation of Rabindranath Tagore’s story in Bengali: Kshudhaarto Paashaana, divided in I to XIV parts, largely in blank verse that lapses into rhymes along with its twists and turns. The story is known to have happened during Tagore’s stay at Shaahibaug palace in Ahmadabad, the nearby river Sabarmati becoming river Suista in the story.
Sunflowers,
cheddar-cheese petals
surrounding seedy-brown-mustard centers,
stand guard over hot summer pavement
like mighty oaks.
Laughing children
run in and out the yellow forest,
slaying dragons,
rescuing damsels in distress,
then pretending to be astronauts
sailing across space
to a planet inhabited
by tall, green stalk-like aliens
with golden helmets.
Did van Gogh imagine such things
as he painted so many saffron blooms?
Did their sunny dispositions
have any effect on him?
Did he really love those festive flowers?
Look for answers in the pensive starry night.
O, to be a Hero
in the good old-fashioned way
Rescuing damsels in distress
just in time to save the day
Where is our shining knight
astride determined steed
To free this spend-like-crazy world
from materialism's need
Climb those many stairs, up to the stars.
“Cut!” Comes the child, the wee Pinkerton.
Stunt double, doubles down, with plethora of scars.
Fate is what it is, bumps, bruises...sorta fun.
Pinkerton rolls and bounces, ooches and ouches.
Then they call in the fingering ‘stache, for he smooths
the luscious hairs of his handlebar, never slouches.
Divine with his hands too, damsels-in-distress, he soothes.
Pinkerton pastes on his pastel beard, and breaks out
into a minor character. “Cut! Stunt dou—ble!”
The ‘Stache rips doppelgänger’s facial hair as Pinkerton shouts,
opens mouth, “Hey! Hey! That really hurt!” Now he’s in trouble.
Pinkerton pouts as he takes his final walk into the night.
Rubs his eyes as a werewolf runs by ready to attack.
Those mischievous stars yell, “Cut! Stunt double, fight!”
Alarmed, Pinkerton needs to know who has his back.
A werewolf snarls and twirls his whiskers with a pinky.
Suspicious and brave, the kid gives him a karate chop.
Pinkerton unzips the stinker from bottom to top.
Found out, ‘Stache grabs his blanket and binky.
11/3/2020
... Among the shadows of the groaning elms,
amid the darkening oaks, we fled ourselves ...
... Once there were paths that led to coracles
that clung to piers like loosening barnacles ...
... where we cannot return, because we lost
the pebbles and the playthings, and the moss ...
... hangs weeping gently downward, maidens’ hair
who never were enchanted, and the stairs ...
... that led up to the Fortress in the trees
will not support our weight, but on our knees ...
... we still might fit inside those splendid hours
of damsels in distress, of rustic towers ...
... of voices heard in wolves’ tormented howls
that died, and live in dreams’ soft, windy vowels ...
Originally published by Sonnet Scroll
Courtly days of knights so gallant,
And demure damsels in distress;
Hearken ye to this admiring descant,
Of chivalry and sheer noblesse.
Nights of satin and days of adventure,
Of heroes and villains vile,
Of windborne blossoms, dark allure,
Which made the ladies blush and smile.
Dangerous and many an escapade
Helped to guard the palace walls;
For love, for honor, men met blade.
Celebrations in the banquet halls.
Nights of romance and of mystery,
Which held a strange power!
As does a haunting symphony;
Rescued princess from the Ivory Tower!
Early, early, my little red rooster,
Thou shalt greet the new dawn;
Give the day a little booster,
For the knights of chivalry are gone!
Come, and lay here, on this soft grassy hill
hear stories I'll tell from yesteryear
the sun is setting... the air calm and fair
though a gentle breeze can caress your hair
listen, my dear, about the dragons you fear
allow your ears to be aware of the stories I bring
of Damsels in distress, of Knights and their King
lay your head down on the grass to listen
I'll brush the hair away from eyes that glisten
so they may stay open as each story unfolds
of ladies in love with their Knights so bold
once upon a time... there was a maiden on a hill
with light in her eyes... she lays without fear
wanting to hear stories about yesteryear
5/17/18
We've come across scammers,
white elephants,
damsels in distress,
fake online banks,
false prophets....
At one time in our lives we've thought
that we have neared or reached our
breakthrough,
only for reality to sink in painfully,
reminding us of fool's gold....
Date of Entry: 13/11/2016
When your days are numbered
When it's time to pass on
What will be your story
You'll choose to leave the world
Will you leave a romantic novel
With hero's and horses
Rescuing damsels in distress
Fixing hearts that are broken
Will your life be an adventure
Traveling far and abroad
Whether by air on a plane
Will you stretch your sea legs out
Maybe a horror story
Will be your demise
You tried everything to escape
But your soul it still died
Some choose comedy
It masks all the pain
They laugh and laugh
Leaving pleasure in stead
No matter your choosing
It's your life to tell
So do it with passion
Make sure that it sells
The knights in shining armor have all died
the damsels in distress are left...distressed
what once was chivalry and manly pride
by silence in the fight is now expressed
Where are the men who knew the right from wrong
who'd come to save a weaker one from pain
perhaps they have forgotten to be strong
their pleasure and their peace they want to gain
And so they leave the wounded in the field
Endeavoring to find what brings delight
forgotten are the ones they were to shield
They leave them there to suffer through the night
You were a knight, but that you are no more
those days are gone, they only live in lore
Eileen Manassian
Sitting at the keybored
symbols mired in my head,
lacking inspiration, filled with exasperation,
I think that I'll just crawl on back to bed.
Images of castles and damsels in distress
are not forthcoming, would be quite becoming,
right now I'd take a wrestler in a dress.
A wrestler in a dress, now THERE'S an image,
something to pique my poor beleaguered brain!
he sports a tutu quite delectable,
not at all prim and respectable,
and not at all neglectable,
I'm finally on a roll!
Sitting at the keybored
symbols mired in my head,
lacking inspiration, filled with exasperation,
I think that I'll just crawl on back to bed.
Images of castles and damsels in distress
are not forthcoming, would be quite becoming,
right now I'd take a wrestler in a dress.
A wrestler in a dress, now THERE'S an image,
something to pique my poor beleaguered brain!
he sports a tutu quite delectable,
not at all prim and respectable,
and not at all neglectable,
I'm finally on a roll!
Inside me is fact
Poking at imagination
Teasing fiction
At war with piles of literature
Angry poems colliding with hospital visits
And funerals
Inside me are Encyclopedias
Constant shouting of evidence and actuality
“ON SEPTEMBER 4TH 1992 JOHN DANIELS ATE 72 HOTDOGS IN UNDER 11
MINUTES.”
Inside me tales of fire breathing dragons and damsels in distress set fire to fact
Dragging my thoughts into a sea of what-ifs and could have-beens
Algebra 2 and Stephen King pull out swords
A duel
Fact wins I study
Fiction wins I dream
Inside me is confusion
Bitter opposites blending together in an attempt to hide truth
The drunk man did not kill him
And I see his daughter in the hospital
And its all wrong I’m just dreaming
But the casts tell a different story
Drowsy eyes diving into my attention
Inside me she is playing hide and seek
Running through dreams
Dodging understanding
Fiction hiding fact
Fact chasing fiction
Chivalry is dead
Only damsels in distress
Mournful requiem
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