I penned this piece in December of 2018. Typically, when I write a poem, its because I'm struck by a really strong emotion or experience a noteworthy event that I want to somehow process in words. With this piece, however, I don't quite recall what it was that spurred me to write.
The whole concept of this poem is centered around the legend of King Arthur. I've been fascinated by the tales of King Arthur for as long as I can remember. There was a cartoon based on King Arthur that I remember looking forward to every weekend as a child of just 6 or 7. Funnily enough, it was the cartoon that pushed me to read the book. I read Roger Lancelyn Green's version of the Arthurian legends, which is one that was targeted towards a child audience. Needless to say, I enjoyed it thoroughly. Green's writing really fleshed out the magic in the characters of Merlin and Arthur and delivered all of the excitement and thrill a child would want from a book about his/her favorite legendary characters.
As an adult now, the legend of King Arthur still continues to intrigue me. I've considered reading some of the more adult-oriented versions of the tale (e.g. Swords at Sunset by Rosemary Sutcliff), but just haven't gotten around to it yet. Indeed, there are so many popular novels based on the Arthurian adventures that I've always found myself at a loss with regards to which one I should read first (open to recommendations here!)
This poem is somewhat a testament to my continued love for this timelessly classic tale. Do leave a comment and share your thoughts!
I once dreamt up a
Blue winter;
Blue as the ocean
Never knew,
Sharp so the
Trenches of the Underworld
May Fear.
Colossal and fractured
Is the Ice that runs
In my veins,
But your light is such light
As the Sun never knew,
It's a dream and a dream
And a nightmare for two;
If only one knew
Of a wind so shrill,
Of a will
And a look
And that look did kill,
Of a fallen knight so silent
As to ghost my day into night
And a harebell into light.
Lost is the cause
Of a residual fight,
For twilight's beast
Is out and upright,
Yet Merlin's legend
Shall sink no more
Than the sword and that sword
That a stone swallowed whole.
Neither myth nor legend
Give rise to
Sorcery or magic
It's a victory so tragic
It's a palm outstretched
On an alabaster sketch
It's the light of the dark
It's passions worlds apart—
It's the heart at the heart of
One's lonely bloody art.
© 2018 Shreya Alagramam
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