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Part 1
“Arthur, is my new scarf pretty?”
“You’re like a fairy! Let’s be fairies!”
We frolicked through the moor.
She skipped ‘round flower patches.
Running her scarf ‘round her arms,
lathering fragrant oil.
I wove through bushes,
Ripping grass and weed from the ground,
Whispering nonsense,
As the blades flew down around me.
In our blue-eyed bacchanal.
Then I saw it
Like a weed tangle at first.
After investigation
Twas a pink-speckled rose bush.
Fairies needed flowers,
Tangled in their wild earthen hair,
Precious little baubles.
And for the Queen, a perfect scepter.
Perfect pink cups, long stiff stem, perfect scepter.
I went to snap some.
They fought back, denying
Their perfection through the
Presence of their great Queen.
I, now the humble knight
Fought fiercely for the staff.
My perforated skin subduing
The misguided staff.
“My Queen!”
“Yes, my most honorable knight?”
“I present to you a staff
And jewelry fit for your royal highness!”
“Oh, Arthur! These flowers are SO pretty!”
“Margaret, you can’t STOP pretending when you play make-believe!”
“Let’s go show your mummy!”
Dragged me back up to the house.
“Mrs. Herald! Come here, come here!”
My worried mother rushed out,
Water pot still in hand.
“Mrs. Herald, aren’t these flowers SO pretty?”
Mother took, inspected the roses.
“Why yes. They are perfect little teacups.
Did Arthur find these for you?”
She had noticed my red-speckled hands
Wiping off the blood
With water from the kettle.
“Yes! He’s my best friend!”
She kissed me.
“Margaret, dear, one does not kiss one’s best friend that way.”
“But my mummy says papa is her best friend and she does this every day!”
Part II
How sweet, Arthur! What became of Margaret?
Well Jacob, do you remember that day, five years ago?
“You are an imbecile, taking her to the vampire lands! What if she is eaten?!”
“JACOB!! Get off of her!”
“I was so hungry!”
Oh, that was her. What happened after she ran from the castle?
“Leave me be!”
“Please listen!”
“You’re insane!”
“Margaret, stop!”
“You must believe me!”
“You are sincere”
“Thank you, Margaret.”
“. . .Demon filth!”
She ran.
A flutter in her vacuum.
Fabric fell,
An old, polka dotted scarf.
- by TiggerIsMyCat |
- Poetry And Lyrics
- | Submitted on 12/24/2009 |
- Skip
- Title: Of Scarves and Flowers
- Artist: TiggerIsMyCat
- Description: A poem that I wrote for my Expository Writing class. It is part of the fictional universe which I created to write stories in. Part 1 takes place when the two characters, Arthur and Margaret, are four year old. Part 2 is just after Arthur becomes a vampire in the early 1920s.
- Date: 12/24/2009
- Tags: scarves flowers vampire 1920s
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