tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34974942715176973172012-01-04T15:27:23.775-08:00Jennifer A. Hudsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16231336675292606067noreply@blogger.comBlogger21100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3497494271517697317.post-17664738809689103612009-08-16T08:54:00.000-07:002009-08-16T09:07:23.554-07:00The Thames river bleeds<br />streams of yellow and orange<br />under the blistering gold orb.<br />I see them, my parents,<br />standing on the Traitor's Gate.<br />My father drags my mother<br />along uneven stones<br />like a prisoner led<br />by the Royal Guard.<br />I am unable to understand<br />their bodies, bodies that always<br />nestled like spoons with every<br />embrace are now as foreign<br />as the ground they stand on.<br /><br />My Henry, my Anne,<br />search for me<br />along cobble lanes<br />within these fortress walls.<br />My eyes and ears<br />sting with uncertainty<br />of what they are<br />hearing and seeing.<br />His words wrap around<br />her neck like a noose.<br />her face red as her words<br />are choked back.<br /><br />She follows, he leads<br />past the oval stone chapel<br />where God,<br />through jeweled glass,<br />will pass judgment.<br />He pauses on the grassy<br />square, where Anne's head<br />once rolled at Henry's command.<br />Her eyes are like hot lava,<br />his like pale river stone.<br />Under the Queen's rooms<br />his voice is a steel blade<br />cutting through her neck.<br />The bloody words reach me<br />and I know<br />these are eyes I've never seen,<br />words I've never heard.<br /><br />The golden globe dips<br />into the icy river Thames.<br />The water glows hot<br />and then turns cool black.<br />They do not see me<br />high in the White Tower<br />watching like black ravens<br />cawing with clipped wings.<br />Flightless birds trapped<br />within these stone walls<br />where legend says the "raven<br />must remain lest both<br />Tower and Monarcy fall."<br /><br />I do not let them see me,<br />or know the beheading<br />I have witnessed nor the blood<br />that was spilled.<br />They disappear into the crowd<br />spilling out onto London streets.<br />I slip out of the tower<br />knowing that when I return<br />to my own castle walls,<br />where my Henry, my Anne<br />paint the portrait of love,<br />that I am the raven<br />who must remain "lest both<br />Tower and Monarchy fall."<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3497494271517697317-1766473880968910361?l=poetsandwriterswbcg.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jennifer L. Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04362363510101004015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3497494271517697317.post-13001564554251878222009-08-08T16:55:00.000-07:002009-08-08T17:06:31.346-07:00Welcome to the new online home of Poets and Writers at <a href="http://www.walnutbeachcafe.com/">Walnut Beach Cafe/Gallery</a>! We gather for open readings of poetry, prose and other story forms on the last Tuesday of every month from 6:30 pm to 8:30 pm. All creative souls in the Greater New Haven area are welcome to join us and share their work in a friendly and open environment, and all members of this group are welcome to share their poems, short prose and other short forms on this blog.<br /><br />We are excited to be here and we hope our enthusiasm will draw a massive following. Until next time, write on!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3497494271517697317-1300156455425187822?l=poetsandwriterswbcg.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Jennifer A. Hudsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16231336675292606067noreply@blogger.com7