Journey to ParadiseA Poem by David Lewis PagetShe
was a queen of the old Levant, Of
a country, lost in shame, Each
page, blood-drenched of its history Was
burnt, to bury its name, The
King had gone on the last Crusade With
his knights to the Holy Land, But
locked her into a chastity belt Forged
by a blacksmith’s hand. But
Queen Fatima, known as ‘The B***h’ Was
a testy-tempered w***e, She
raged and ranted at everyone And
chafed at the chains she bore, She
sent in search of the blacksmith to Disable
the King’s device, But
word came back that the man was hung So
he’d never work it twice. The
King was away for three long years, Fatima’s
tongue was a lash, The
sharpest thing in her box of tricks Was
the blade of the headsman’s axe, Her
courtiers’ popularity rose And
fell as her moods had bled, And
all had quaked at the first mistake When
she ranted, ‘Off with his head!’ She
called for a Turkic Shaman to Divine
what her life would be, Would
she ever be rid of this chastity belt? He
cautioned her, ‘Wait and see!’ It
wasn’t the answer she wanted, so He
was tied to a horse, and dragged, Down
to the river and weighted down Tied
up in a hessian bag! A
number of fortune tellers fell To
the rage of a Fatima fit, Off
to the gory headsman’s blade Or
cooked like a pig on a spit, But
then, the little court jester said In
a voice that was more like a whine, ‘Would
it please the ear for a genuine seer, At
Delphi, I learnt to divine.’ ‘You
learned from the famous Oracle? Come
closer, this I must hear, If
the Oracle tells my future place, Why,
you have nothing to fear!’ ‘My
Oracle tells the key to your belt Has
been locked in the armourer’s cell, The
King had ordered its secret kept Or
he’d suffer the fiends from hell!’ They
carried the armourer shackled in chain To
the queen, he knelt in shock, ‘The
key, if you please, or on your knees You
will feel my steel on the block!’ He
babbled and begged forgiveness, said He
was caught between King and Queen, And
gave up the key to chastity So
the queen danced free on the green. She
spent that night with the eunuch slaves, She
crawled around on her knees, She
fed an insatiable appetite Doing
whatever she pleased, At
dawn she called for the headsman Who
was given his gory task, And
watched as her night companions there Fell
one and all to the axe. She
took in the jester, asked for more, What
news of the King from home, ‘Alas,’
he said, ‘the King is dead, The
vultures pick at his bones!’ ‘Then
what will become of his widow queen, Say
now, or you’ll feel my curse.’ ‘A
knight in armour will come for you , A
knight on a coal black horse!’ ‘Will
he be the bearer of tidings, or Will
he be the bearer of lies?’ ‘This
knight has only one deed to do, He’ll
bear you to paradise!’ She
thought of the bliss of a loving knight Who
would take the queen as his right, While
she would rule with an iron hand And
he would make love at night. The
knight came thundering through the trees One
day, on his coal black horse, The
queen stood up where the parapet eaves Hung
over the watercourse, She
ordered the drawbridge down at once And
had the portcullis raised, Then
watched him galloping into the fort And
through the walls of the maze. His
horse came clattering up the steps That
led to milady’s tower, She
thought, ‘At last, we shall bed this night In
the depths of my shady bower.’ The knight, not raising his visor there Nor
even dismounted yet, Raised
his scimitar up on high Then
cleft her head from her neck! Her
body dropped like a stone, and bled, Her
head flew over the wall, She
saw his face as she stared ahead The
Jester, watching her fall, Her
head fell down through the cypress trees And
she thought that the breeze was nice! Those
final seconds would lead her mind To
the Garden of Paradise. David
Lewis Paget © 2012 David Lewis PagetFeatured Review
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