The Lady, Fair

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: The Imaginarium

Written for NaPoWriMo Day 20

Cover image: pixabay.com.

The Lady, Fair

 

They came from every corner,

for long distances they’d ride

for many knights did so desire

for her to be their bride.

 

Her beauty it was famous

although none before had seen

her flowing hair of almost white,

her face, so calm, serene.

 

The paleness of her skin

was so in contrast to her dress;

for black and red she favored

which she wore with great finesse.

 

The knights were so enchanted

by the beauty of her face;

they would do her bidding

hoping for that cherished place.

 

A task was set for suitors;

which could bring the finest rose

would win her hand in marriage

and his rivals so depose.

 

The knights set off in earnest,

to search for a perfect bloom

to bring back to the lady fair

who sat waiting in her room.

 

Several days sped past before

the steeds, they did return,

some were unaccompanied

which was of some concern.

 

While families were so distraught

the lady was unmoved,

for it was inadequacies

these knights had surely proved.

 

She waited until finally

four suitors did arrive

with blooms that quite surprisingly

still did seem to thrive.

 

One held a bloom of orange

with such hope upon his face

but she did quickly turn

until another took his place.

 

This knight held forth a flower

that was as yellow as the sun,

certain that this vibrant bloom

would make him be the one.

 

She looked down towards the ground

then slowly shook her head.

The next knight he strode forward

with a bloom of deepest red.

 

He saw the lady look upon

the flower in his hand;

began to then imagine up

a wedding oh, so grand

 

but then her eyes were caught up

by a rose as black as coal,

the choice was then decided

for this knight, she’d take his soul.

 

Dismissing all the others,

she took the rose between her fingers,

let the knight embrace her,

gave a kiss that gently lingers

 

then she turns her eyes upon

his neck, where his skin is bare;

before he has an inkling

well, her fangs are dug in there.

 

The lady chose her husband

for a rose as black as coal

and now she has staked her claim

to his immortal soul.

 

 

 

 


Submitted: April 20, 2020

© Copyright 2021 hullabaloo22. All rights reserved.

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Comments

Sue Harris

Love this, Hully. She had her eyes on the prize, so to speak. Brilliant!

Mon, April 20th, 2020 9:17pm

Author
Reply

Thanks so much, Sue. I'm glad you enjoyed it.

Tue, April 21st, 2020 11:34am

Mike S.

AHHHH! Excellent, Hull!

Mon, April 20th, 2020 9:28pm

Author
Reply

Thanks, Mike!

Tue, April 21st, 2020 11:34am

HJ FURL

I find that a daunting challenge, Hully, telling a tale in verse, but you rose (sorry!) to the challenge magnificently. A haunting lovely lilting tale - with a razor- sharp end. I loved it.

Tue, April 21st, 2020 5:06pm

Author
Reply

Thanks so much, HJ.

Tue, April 21st, 2020 11:29am

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