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10.0
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What is it, my Lord Arthur, that brings a tear
into your eye in this the longest night
of all the year, when the white moon
is full and the North Wind's still?
Is it the mem’ry of your enchanted youth—
that clear transparent morn when you pulled out
the magic sword and, unexpectedly,
found out your true identity?
O what a day it was, my Lord Arthur!
What strength of youth and high ideals stirred
within your soul as you stood transfigured
and wide-eyed on that fateful fork of time!
Other miracles would follow—daring
deeds of chivalry and hardship facing
death, and through it all, your purity of soul
would win the true allegiance of those willful
Celtic kings to rout the Saxon threat and build
the greatest miracle of all: myriad-towered Camelot!
Such splendor the world has never known,
my Lord Arthur!
Yet how everything seemed to pale the day
Gwynnevere sailed into your life—long-tressed,
hazel-eyed, tender, and divine, like some
God-given vision in a glorious dream.
How could you refuse the gifts of Spring blooming
in her hair of golden dawn? the aching promises
of her wild eyes, sparkling in the soft luxuriant
night? the satin touch of voice and skin that
stirred the deepest longings of your
unattended heart?
What unforgettable days and nights would
follow then, my lord, when you would gaze
into the wheat fields of her eyes shimmering
in subtle transformations, and, how you felt
that as your bodies touched, your souls
became entwined.
O, my Lord Arthur, what sweet memories
lie rooted in your heart: the songs and rustle
of her endless sighs as she gently turned
into a woman in your arms.
Bliss indeed ‘twas, my Lord Arthur, though oft
within your heart you feared that all may turn
to be a passing dream, a wondrous, transient
dream that could not live but in the immortal
songs of bards.
Perhaps you sensed the subtle future mists
of melancholy days, the sudden sadness
unexplained that unawares would overtake
her heart some day, and steal the love song
in her eyes, the rustle of her sighs under
the stars.
Ah, my Lord Arthur, woe betide that ever
times like these should come to pass, in days
when that other stranger from beyond the sea
would sail into your lives, to steal unseen
into the vacant spaces of her unsuspecting heart.
-Jim Valero,11/01/03
Jim Valero
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Comments about this poem (Arthur
by
Jim Valero
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Jim Valero
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Marie Shine
(5/25/2009 10:28:00 AM) |
I was drawn into this wonderous poem by it's title, because on seeing 'Arthur' I knew my mind, body and Spirit were in for a great treat but more was presented in this work of art than I ever expected, though my expectations were high! As a big fan of Arthur, his Knights, Camelot and The Round Table, all my needs were met in this amazing poem, so beautifully presented. Poignant at times but full of imagery of by-gone days never to be repeated.So many different aspects and stories contained within the poem of those days of chivalry, bravery and honour.
I just got totally lost within the words and was transported to another time and place - I must add I was very slow and unwilling to return to the present moment in time - I truly would have loved to stay there. THANK YOU for sharing this 'out of the world' poem Jim. I wish I could give it a million but all that will register is 10.
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