One of the primary purposes of this blog is to be a place through which I can share my original poetry – hopefully with a wide audience, in time. Please feel free to read, comment, discuss, and forward!
(I would like to note that I am the author of all poems and photographs posted on this blog unless stated otherwise, and that I reserve all rights to the same.)
Bow before the spirit white
whose light festoons her bower.
Sing the bride of Arthur’s court –
the High Queen and the flower.
~ Marta Ziemelis. Written in Riga, Latvia,copyright 2011.
“Tale of the Kitchen Knight”
A lady sat at her casement,
with eyes as clear as sky,
her voice flitting like sparrowsong,
and glimmering low and high.
There came in sight a yeoman rough,
striding oe’r the land.
Bow and quiver were his tools,
strength was in his hand.
‘Tower-singer, come you down,
come and be my maid.
String my bow, come grace my camp,
and do not be afraid.’
‘Nay, O archer over-proud,
I do not wish to be
your pretty doll, your drink of mead
beneath the greenwood tree.’
A fairy lord a-walking came,
bright stars they were his eyes,
a cloak of night about him wrap’d,
his sweet voice full of lies.
‘O mortal beauty fair as sun,
come dwell inside my mound.
My power yours, you shall be queen
o’er halls beneath the ground.’
‘Nay now, my lord, such tales I’ve heard
of all the things you claim.
You’ll snatch my very soul away
and trap me in your game.’
As stars appeared, there whistling came
a merry smiling knight,
his scarred and burned and blistered hands
did swing through twinkling light.
Her eyes fix’d on those hands, she called,
‘Stranger, whence come you this eve?’
He laughing cried, ‘I’m the Kitchen Knight,
to Arthur’s court I cleave.’
‘The Kitchen Knight I am called there,
my craft is pots and bread.
I carve no warriors in the lists,
I craft royal feasts instead.’
‘I love bright things’, the lady said,
‘but not those of the royal kind.
If you seek my hand, you must
stay now to hear my mind.’
‘I love bright things, both true and fair –
like friendship, song and ale.
Offer me these with loving heart,
I’ll join you without fail.’
Gone with him to Camelot,
she learn’d his noble heart.
Both friends and lovers they became,
a pair who would never part.
She sewed a banner – mead and meat –
as sigil for her Kitchen Knight.
They lived, they loved, they cooked and sang –
and ne’er was a court so bright.
~ Marta Ziemelis. Written in Riga and Toronto, copyright 2011.
No one understands the words you’ve said
said to shield the silence in your head,
silence guarded by the clamour of the sword
Her face floats,
white flame unspoken word –
Phantom hands like fire and like song
raise your blade
as you turn within the lists,
giving you a strength none can defeat.
Yet the price is cold and bitter,
sharp as a receding tide.
Wakeful, you stir under the moon,
the image of your happiness, a pale ghost in the breeze.
Blood speaks in your heart
but cannot reach across the seas
through walls of stone,
where she sits by another man’s hand,
shaking and burning
as they try to touch you –
you, who are hers.
She sings to the waters,
you scream to the wind,
voices meeting in midair
for the memory of a kiss.
Only the deepest core of your heart
– and it might as well be stone.
~ Marta Ziemelis. Written in Toronto, copyright 2011.
The pieces above were published in the March 2012 edition of Garm Lu: A Canadian Celtic Arts Journal . Each one deals with a character or particular moment from Arthurian legend, which has long been a fascination of mine. Since there are well-known Arthurian figures which have been written about ad nauseam, I’ve made an effort to write on lesser-known characters, on moments within the Arthur tales which are never described – or at least, to offer unusual perspectives on some familiar faces.
Many sincere thanks go to my friend Greg Darwin, who offered invaluable advice when it came time to edit the first draft of “Tale of the Kitchen Knight”. Tapadh leat, a chara!
I wish you all happy reading!