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Array ( [sid] => 19570 [catid] => 1 [aid] => Mick [title] => Cradle of dreams; TALE 1: from the walls of the Bastille [time] => 2003-06-25 20:05:00 [hometext] => [bodytext] => Sister spirit spoke to me,
As the light of yonder heavens;
Broke upon my face,
Despite I had fallen from grace,
In a disregarded cell of the Bastille,
Memories; my only means of escape,
To a land draped;
With my childhood and youth,
A dove named ‘Cordelia’
Lived in the northern window,
Brought me cockle shells from the open seas,
A twig, a fruit from the olive trees,
And a rat I called ‘Federico’
Put up a daily show,
Of undaunted energy,
Reminiscing my days on the decks;
Of Storm lady; Monrovia
Wisps of the icy Atlantic breeze,
Cloudy skies and foamy seas,
Each voyage would open the door
To hospitable or hostile shores,
Tis’ hard to forget Isabelle and her parakeet,
Lived in Rome in a silent retreat,
She taught me lessons of devotion,
Passion and emotion,
Until she was betrothed;
To old man Monroe,
O those days of lighthearted slumber!
Each hour was laden with wonder,
Sailor, Scholar, king I was,
Until the curse of rebellion fell upon me,
I fought against the constitution,
But was charged for treachery,
From captain of my destiny;
To the pits of ignominy,
A victim of the monarchy,
A prisoner of this dungeon cell,
I dwell with my best friends;
Cordelia and Federico,
A secret exchange in Esperanto,
As we watch games of moonlit rays,
The divine cosmos of our notions,
Over realms and oceans,
Becomes one….
Like the three Musketeers,
We are comrades in this incarcerated scene,
Our only release is in the shadows,
As we sleep in the cradle of dreams.
[comments] => 2 [counter] => 187 [topic] => 43 [informant] => Euphoria [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )

Cradle of dreams; TALE 1: from the walls of the Bastille

Contributed by Euphoria on Wednesday, 25th June 2003 @ 08:05:00 PM in AEST
Topic: oops

Sister spirit spoke to me,
As the light of yonder heavens;
Broke upon my face,
Despite I had fallen from grace,
In a disregarded cell of the Bastille,
Memories; my only means of escape,
To a land draped;
With my childhood and youth,
A dove named ‘Cordelia’
Lived in the northern window,
Brought me cockle shells from the open seas,
A twig, a fruit from the olive trees,
And a rat I called ‘Federico’
Put up a daily show,
Of undaunted energy,
Reminiscing my days on the decks;
Of Storm lady; Monrovia
Wisps of the icy Atlantic breeze,
Cloudy skies and foamy seas,
Each voyage would open the door
To hospitable or hostile shores,
Tis’ hard to forget Isabelle and her parakeet,
Lived in Rome in a silent retreat,
She taught me lessons of devotion,
Passion and emotion,
Until she was betrothed;
To old man Monroe,
O those days of lighthearted slumber!
Each hour was laden with wonder,
Sailor, Scholar, king I was,
Until the curse of rebellion fell upon me,
I fought against the constitution,
But was charged for treachery,
From captain of my destiny;
To the pits of ignominy,
A victim of the monarchy,
A prisoner of this dungeon cell,
I dwell with my best friends;
Cordelia and Federico,
A secret exchange in Esperanto,
As we watch games of moonlit rays,
The divine cosmos of our notions,
Over realms and oceans,
Becomes one….
Like the three Musketeers,
We are comrades in this incarcerated scene,
Our only release is in the shadows,
As we sleep in the cradle of dreams.

Copyright Â© Euphoria ... [ 2003-06-25 20:05:00]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: Cradle of dreams; TALE 1: from the walls of the Bastille (User Rating: 1 )
by Ilhar on Wednesday, 25th June 2003 @ 08:23:00 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

wonderful, good flow, enjoyable read
Shari

Re: Cradle of dreams; TALE 1: from the walls of the Bastille (User Rating: 1 )
by Former_Member on Friday, 12th March 2004 @ 01:32:53 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

I'd say 'remarkable' again, only because this is the second poem I've ever read of yours, the previous being quite exotic in its eloquence and detail. This is no better, or no less deserving of such superlatives, yet, I must travel on through your submissions, as I am sure you have other such pieces of quality left stored away here . I believe I am going to enjoy myself . . . and I think i'll have to find some more imaginative superlatives, other than 'remarkable', to match your superb imagination.

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