An Ode To Philomels Poem by Palitha Ranatunge

Who sentenced you to this misery,
A Game of Chess?

Philomel, my divine princess, the fairest!
Savage king and his desires blind.
Yours has been a delightful song to us
But it was a deep deeper and deepest
Lamenting of a poor girl... the pitieth!
Before the rudeness of a barbarous king
Leaving you with half cut bird tongue
Your coarse voiced human lament
Converted to a melody of a
Nightingale hiding a pain of crime.

Why I became a part of this conspiracy?

"Under the neon light, under the noisy fan, her hair
Spread out wet in cheapest perfume,
Pressing lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon
The door."

[In Thomas Middleton's play Women Beware Women, where the game of chess is a device to distract the attention of the old woman, while her daughter-in-law is being seduced by a lustful Duke.

Philomel was raped by Tereus, the husband of her sister Procne, and her tongue cut out. She was changed into a nightingale.

Under the fire light...: T. S. Elliot, The Waste Land, lines 108-109 & 138-139.]