The Summons

Already restless, I had turned to my favored place to seek peace. I had knelt beneath the moonlit branches of the tree, letting nightingale song wash over me, when I am summoned and know not why. I am told his mood is strange. I have but moments to prepare myself, yet not test the goodwill of he who summons. Moonlight shines through the blossoming trees as I ride on the mare provided. Not finding my favorite combs, I hastily extend a hand to snatch blossoms, hoping their beauty compensates. The same moonlight shows the hurried manner of my dress.

The bright moon of night
Shines on all that can help you
And all that can harm

I breathe deep the scent of local flora as I ride along. Perfect gardens seen off in the distance are soothing. The road I travel is not. I knew not the king had returned from his sojourn; let alone have chance to know the cause this distress. The lumps I feel are more than mere nervousness. The not gentle roads jangle already frayed thoughts. My king who places a premium on the upholding of traditions, entrusts me with its upkeep. A delicate balance accomplished too well. Hours spent side-by-side this past year, yet he knows naught. My heart as improper as the lack of grace of a more appropriate attire. The night is as dark as my mood. My beloved moonlight bears me not a cheer.

The trickle of fear
Thorns that can grow sharp within
As well as without

I take in the increasing view of the palace up ahead. Its peaks rise in golden tones as though the setting sun cached its luminescence there for the night and comes now to collect upon rising. My king acknowledges my kneeling by kneeling himself. He kneels! To me! His rough, beefy hand a contrast to my pale delicate fingers. I am shocked by his most gentle of touch – our first physical contact. Ever. An embroidered gown placed in my arms, he bows. He bows! The gown is of a refinement only she who will become queen can wear. Characters of my name intricately stitched within its fine threads. My missing combs, now jewel encrusted, nervously placed on top. And like this new day, it dawns on me. He knows. He reciprocates. All protocol cast aside at our second physical contact ever – our first kiss.

Deep shades of gold sun
Extend like love’s warm fingers
Dawn a brand new day

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Entered in:

Poetry Picnic Week 33: Fortresses, Castles, Palaces and Royal houses

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dVerse ~Poets Pub | Meeting the bar – the Haibun

16 thoughts on “The Summons

  1. Beautiful, and so unusual considering the kings most of us have known about (e.g. Henry VIII). Fear often does prove to be groundless.

    • LOL! Oh Bob, stop thinking like an American. Just because I didn’t say Czar or Emperor you limited yourself to western European royalty? 😉 I teez, I teez 😀

      Much thanks as always.

    • Charles, I gave up ages ago trying to decipher how my muse conjures anything any more. I simply write while the quill is full and hope there’s always more ink in the well.

      Having had near Stockholm Syndrome with your words at times, I am flattered to have captivated you with mine today. Thank you.

  2. Hey Booguloo, thank you. This is a Japanese poetic form is called a “haibun” or “halibun”, The form is prose (or a prose poem) mixed with one or more haiku: The prose should add to the depth with which we experience the haiku and the haiku should add meaning to the prose.

  3. nice…it is a dawn…and i love the surprise of his gentleness and willing to set aside the norms so that those first touches can happen…love like that can def overcome boundaries…this is def a cool story, almost fairy tale…smiles.

  4. so apt.. considering I just watched Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon.. I can see this in the significance of the combs.. wonderful tale.. and you have used the haibun technique very efficiently… The fairytale quality works so well…

  5. think none of us expects that the king would at all be interested in us…and what joy when he is – and even comes that close, puts all protocol aside and kisses us – seeks that close relationship… reminds me of my king…smiles

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