La Dame Belle sans Merci

Come now, and kneel beside me,

tell me of your cowardly deeds,

of which you intend to make me bleed.

His war is over,

and gone far away is your lover.

Come to join me under my leafy cover.

She whispered it all,

of your king’s fall.

You think I am deaf to my people’s call?

I am queen of this land!

The frightful wraith your king did brand,

do not dare raise your weaponed hand!

You’re already mine, lost invader,

no longer your king’s crusader,

but very well your lover’s traitor.

It was not I who murdered your wife.

Rather, it was your man made strife.

I’ll wrap my golden hair around your neck,

Until you, to me, fall upon my flowery deck.

My forest, my woods, hold a secret once dear to me.

All those who enter through my trees,

belong to me for all eternity.

Even if, through the rising of Poseidon’s seas, all of my trees vanished,

the faeries, the nymphs, who lived here, banished,

those who entered would still not be free.

No, never would they escape me.

You’ll stay at my side, just like your darling wife.

She’s here among my flowers,

perhaps her petals have bloomed this hour.

You give me an order, a demand? With what power?

With you on your knees, maybe you should become the dandelions’ bower?

Still, I wonder, would your death be enough to barter?

Your king, would he not, make you a martyr,

for fighting against me until your final silly hour?

Should I let your lover stay in her high up tower?

Protected by her darling guard’s power?

Should I let your betrayer wife rot underneath the white flower?

What would your split heart barter for?

Would you give your mutated souls for hers?

Or offer to me the rarest of furs?

Or give me the dragon and beast with the softest purrs?

No, perhaps instead, you, I’ll break.

Drown your eyes in my lake.

Your body broken across my many mountains,

and your blood filling my youthful fountains.

But what fun would it be,

if I could not see those tears of thee?

To see those souls of yours battered?

Ha, it would not match my soul, shattered.

I was once a queen,

who ruled the entire land you’ve seen.

It was mine, until your king became keen.

I would’ve liked to have to have seen his face,

as his crown tumbles onto the ground.

As he crumbles under his his own greed, drowned.

For a ring of metal, he’d destroy all of my towns.

I warned your king,

“I bow to no king, no invader.”

I was betrayed by your wife, you heartful traitor.

She who came to my court,

and killed my dear consort,

then to her king report.

To this forest, I am currently bound,

but I shall receive my bloodied pound,

given to me upon this forgotten ground.

I am the Dame Belle sans la Coeur.

A lady with no heart, as your king decreed.

So come and lay your twisted neck beside me.

Let your eyes drown in my raging seas,

your body pollen to my bustling bees.

No one has escaped my deathly glare,

No, not even your king’s stare.

On winged shoes, the old gods have come,

hammers raised, thunders raging, bodies numb.

Utopia’s come and gone,

this game of chess shall reveal the dangerous pawn.

Oh, silly, silly knight, I’ll turn you to stone,

you’ll never sit upon my silver throne.

Have you not ever known,

that it’s only my dust in your bones?

That I’m in every heart beat, every changing face?

In every foreign space?

The movement of the tying lace?

Oh, your blood now takes root,

and there you’ll lay, under my foot,

and forever walked on by your victims’ boot.

Your lover who ran to me,

through my birch trees,

to ask me to set her free.

The wife who betrayed me,

and for mercy, to me plea.

The king who thought to rule me,

soon shall pay my dued fee.

And you think, you’ll own me?

That you can even think of destroying me?

You know not my name.

And intend to beat my game,

to fall me to my knees and tame?

I am not some faerie queen that your Spenser dreams.

I care for all beasts that come to drink from my streams.

I need not to quote old men who thought to tell me how I must be.

Nor tolerate the quests of a foolish knight’s schemes.

Oh, it was not my despair that made me cold,

no, Despair was my friend of old.

They all roamed my lands, those who your Spenser fought,

and allowed us to rise and fall, as they taught

us how to take flight, to live, and deny them we cannot.

Oh, my red heart could have bled,

over the fact you are dead.

But, my dead one, one I have not.

Lay in my flower bed, with your wife, the withering red.

While your lover remains with my faerie guard, blissfully wed.

You thought to stain my forest cherry red, and help slay my dear dragon friend.

A foolish quest of a foolish night, and you thought it would be the end?

No, redcrosse or a simple knight, this quest has come to your bitter end.

The chess pieces are in place, and soon the king in checkmate.

I’ll let him think he has won and lay in wait.

Because he has only one move left to make.

And like wrathful snake,

I’ll strike in a single stroke of a pen,

that signs away his very end.

I am without mercy,

nothing can make my heart beat flurry.

I am the lady without a heart,

and so, it remains an imaginary part.

That beating heart, that beating organ,

that breaths like Medusa, the gorgon.

A womanly beast, they’ll whisper,

a queen who rules the winter and makes the world whimper.

There is nothing left but a worthless throne,

in which man can sit all alone.

Let them fight over lands and powers and let it rise with more bones.

I can no longer rule, even if I wanted too.

I am the lady without mercy.

Without a heart.

But with only a never ending scream,

that is heard for all eternity.

This long poem was actually the original version of the shortened version.


Let me know what you think!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s