|
Menu
|
|
|
Social
|
|
|
|
The Prisoners
Contributed by
MaryAnson
on
Monday, 5th October 2009 @ 01:45:17 PM in AEST
Topic:
fantasy
|
I remember a young woman
By the name of Aela Jay
She guarded a red-walled prison
And kept convicts locked away
Her regime was beastly
With intent to kill and maim
But the rules that she imposed
Were fearful all the same
Her prisoners were either beaten,
Starved or just ignored
Aela made them pay dearly,
Those criminals she so abhorred
And what is it, I hear you ask
That these captives had done?
What offence could warrant
Such a stony, heartless matron?
Though Aela Jay so diligently
Kept them doing time
It may be that she punished not
For any previous crime
Could it be that she was bound
To incarcerate, day and night
Not for the fear of what they did,
But because of what they might?
One evening, a man named Lovejoy
A rash, rebellious inmate
He would visit his captor
And attempt to negotiate
When Aela’s eyes grew heavy
He whispered in her ear
‘For how long do you expect
That you can retain us all in here?
Mistress, we loathe these grim confines
And I can no more stare
At those same red-walled caverns,
Locked in with Shame and Despair.
Release us, even gradually
For we have done no wrong
Or else we start a riot
And we are but a hundred strong.’
Aela Jay took notice
But she did not dare comply
For who could know what havoc
They would wreak, with spirits high?
She wouldn’t begin to consider
Opening up those strong, pearl gates,
Rolling out that red carpet
And allowing them to dictate
And so she simply waited
For the anarchy to ensue
It wasn’t a solution
But what else was she to do?
Aela lay in waiting
Feeling fitful and afraid
And soon enough the captives pushed
Against red barricades
She tried in vain to stifle them
But they never ceased
For what is one young woman
Against a hundred at least?
The prisoners were victorious
Escstatic, full of glee
For it seemed that this was the day
That they would be truly free
Somewhere in the vast melee
Aela Jay did fall
The protest of the prisoners had
Become a deadly brawl
The force of so many detainees
Striving for their due
Overwhelmed her in an instant
And she all but split in two
And now what a spectator
Would, no doubt, expect to see
Is a hundred triumphant prisoners
Marching from their dungeons, free
But this is not what happened
Because without Aela Jay
The prisoners could not subsist,
So they vanished clean away
Copyright ©
MaryAnson
... [
2009-10-05 13:45:17] (Date/Time posted on
site)
Advertisments:
|
|
|
|
|
Sorry, comments are no longer allowed for anonymous, please register for a free membership to access this feature and more
|
|
All comments are owned by the poster. Your Poetry
Dot Com is not responsible for the content of any
comment. That said, if you find an offensive comment, please
contact via the FeedBack Form with details, including poem title
etc.
|
|
|
Re: The Prisoners
(User Rating: 1 ) by Former_Member on
Monday, 5th October 2009 @ 02:05:25 PM AEST (User
Info | Send
a Message)
|
It sounds like Aela Jay was a prisoner herself. Good stuff! |
|
|
Re: The Prisoners
(User Rating: 1 ) by Former_Member on
Monday, 5th October 2009 @ 02:36:54 PM AEST (User
Info | Send
a Message)
|
I really really like the mystique of this one. And you definitely got that flow thing goin' on really good too.
Thank you for an enjoyable read.
Tim
|
|
|
Re: The Prisoners
(User Rating: 1 ) by Former_Member on
Monday, 5th October 2009 @ 04:42:45 PM AEST (User
Info | Send
a Message)
|
Now I’m not one for long poems, but you're a young English girl, so I thought I'd give you a chance. And OH MY GOD am I glad I did. It was a masterpiece of epic poetry. I have NEVER been able to write anything this complex, EVER. I haven't got the ability (or the patience) to string together an elaborate plot. You, however, have it in abundance. It was intelligent and it flowed along with a certain elegance. The imagery was descriptive enough and helped paint a mental picture of the story. More than anything, it was just a joy to read. I never got bored once and didn't stop until I reached the end. You don't see many English poets on here, and English poetry in general has been rubbish for years (apart from Simon Armitage). But you are a beacon of light. You radiate talent. Your English teacher couldn't write anything even remotely as good as this.
-Phil |
|
|
|