THE CLOAK

Your eyes flashed fire, my heart burst into flame.
My cloak I threw down at your muddy feet.
You smiled at me and spoke my secret name.
I made a bow, my thoughts of pleasures sweet.

But moving to step on my muddied cloak,
Your gaze transfixed me, helpless, at the scene
For I was now so cold and wet and choked,
I realised how foolish I had been.

Though I triumphed against the mighty Spanish
My downfall was a manhole cover, cast aside
Causing peasants' coarse laughter as you vanish
Down manhole with my best cloak and your pride.

My Queen searches for me, but not for her bed,
My Queen tells her court that she'll soon have my head

About This Poem

Style/Type: Structured: Western

Review Request Intensity: I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back

Editing Stage: Editing - draft

About the Author

Country/Region: GBR

Comments

Dear Mr. Chanter

Hello again! I loved these lines:

Your eyes flashed fire, my heart burst into flames.
My cloak I threw down at your muddy feet.
You smiled at me and spoke my secret name.
I made a bow , my thoughts of pleasures sweet.

(Did you know that most Wiccans and Pagans have secret names?) I just thought I'd mention that. This poem reminded me of Queen Elizabeth and (I forgot his name) one of her knights.

As usual, your writing is at its best. I have no suggestions, only appreciation for the work.

Always, Cat

Cat

As usual, Cat, you are too kind. Many thanks for stopping by.
It was Sir Walter Raleigh, I think, who laid down his cloak (but not over an open manhole )

Regards

Ian

manholes

Beware the gentleman proffering his cloak. Thanks Shirl

Love

Ian xx

Sir Walter Raleigh was it ? Nice twist with the man hole brought a crooked grin to my face lol. I think a heart can also burst into flame and tighten up name rhyme. Keep 'em coming................scribbler

Queen of Hearts

Thanks scribbler, keep on keeping on

Ian

Tam

I would like to come back to this one when this Queen can think better. Some tweaks I will suggest but interesting write indeed.

ps Happy Belated Birthday to you

Blessings
Mona

Manholes

Xena, you were absolutely right. A manhole full of mud, covered by a cloak. A Queen maddened by the peasants' laughter and out for revenge. Actually it started as a love sonnet and I veered off course from the second stanza.