The Queen stood surrounded, by jeering, clamouring crowds,
beleaguered on every side, with no place left to hide.
While her King stood in the corner, consulting once more with the Bishop,
the Black Knight slowly sidled to the only place still allowed.
He was enjoying the moves and the elegant ride.
He’d been skirting her for hours now, like baiting a silver fish hook
his sweet words and twinkling glances hid the truth of his game.
Her only aim was to save her Liege, her Lord, her indolent Love,
he of the fine apparel, the armour, the velvet glove,
he who would always linger, lazy until the last.
When the Kingdom was at its end and he had no valiant friend,
Perhaps he would remember her, as the Knight sliced off his head,
After his Queen was dead.
king
From Acorns, Oaks (a haibun)
I was an acorn, many years ago,fallen from an ancient tree to the earth below.
One day Arthur came, dreaming of the land and his ambitious plans. Absent-mindedly he stooped, bowed down to me, reaching out a hand.
with heavy footsteps
men will come, their battle plan
disturbs the forests
He held me in his palm. I saw him softly smile. He placed me in his pocket
where it was dark and warm. He was not a king to me, he was just a man. I stayed with him throughout his golden age.
here amongst blossoms
they sit and speak of glory
petals softy fall
When Arthur fell,I fell too. He fell into his long sleep of death. I fell to my birth, pressed into the earth by a careless foot, an unwitting gardener pushed me into mud. I was cradled by the earth while the country still mourned.
cradled by the earth
in knowledge of high branches
I reached up to light
I reached up to light and became a sturdy oak. Now we are a forest. We whisper this old story as wind sighs through our leaves. My children tell the tale.
Nursery Rhyme
The Jack of Diamonds spilled the cup
The Queen knelt down and lapped it up
The King turned in slow disdain
The Jester gurgled like a drain
The Jack got up and walked away
The Queen wept in deep dismay
The King would go and find another
The Jester soon became her lover
He gave her the gift of laughter
They lived happy ever after
The Soul is King
As large as the universe,
as small as our individual hearts,
joined as one,
manifest in many parts,
the blood of every woman and man
rises in the trees sap
and on the birds wing,
held in the throne of water and air
we live and die,
the flames of a fire.
The Soul is King.
We in our tiny lives,
brush against each other in passing.
I know my brothers and sisters
by their smiles,
by the light that shines in their eyes
and their glances,
by the stories they pause to tell when we meet.
There is an older wisdom
that stir in our dreams,
unnameable,
unbreakable,
that which binds us,
passed as a torch,
hand to hand,
written in stars
and the shape of the land,
the land where the Soul is King.
The Dreaming Path 