Isolde flees

(prm)

by T.P. Wilkinson / July 1st, 2018

from emeralds surrounded
in green ribbons bound
her love unknown
one morning
is found
Young stood he
before her
how could
he ignore her
before
that fine
throne
Wandering
waiting
to learn foreign tongues
Wandering
waiting
to yearn rain and sun.
Battling
wet
no sword in his hand
wandering vainly
through each foreign land.
No armies defeated
Yet never retreated
On foot did he carry
So often did he worry
The kingdom
he left
the riches denied
to find one lost emerald
all frustration defied
One morning
so quiet
he rose then to see
that princess
that maiden
with whose love
he would flee.
Flee finally together
Finally to be free.

T.P. Wilkinson, Dr. rer. pol. writes, teaches History and English, directs theatre and coaches cricket between the cradles of Heine and Saramago. He is author of Unbecoming American: A War Memoir and also Church Clothes, Land, Mission and the End of Apartheid in South Africa. Read other articles by T.P..

This article was posted on Sunday, July 1st, 2018 at 8:03am and is filed under Poetry.