Thursday, 28 June 2012

A Ring

A simple concept yet so complex
somehow a symbol devoid of meaning
just something to show you are owned
It assumedly legitimises your love
yet its not doesn’t create love
When you give you hand it doesn’t mean
that you give your heart
I remain the keeper of the cooper key!

My earthly beauty you can see but my soul you can’t
The soul that when brushed with the nettle ring stings
My pearly face doesn’t show a rose of this even to the artist
Who wants to capture my beauty but can’t!
Simply because he is granted my beauty in those hours
But then my beauty fleets away from him
My beauty belongs to me – a ring can’t change that
Just because I spin my ruffle red coloured gown has no meaning – not to me.

My love could not be jarred because with him I was the jar
I took his signs, bottled them up and threw them into the Thames
it sinks into the river not into my heart
My heart is pressed into the passage of my book
that he can’t touch and it makes me laugh
Because in your eyes I had a lover too
Rubies reflected my expression
My tinted expression is its greatest to me 
Nobody can see it.

My portrait I took down from the wall
as I said my beauty belonged to me
so off it went with my luggage into the cart
and into my very own palace!

The ring was sold and I took the money.
Now it’s laughable that around his grave nettle would grow
as his love ring had sting me
In death he isn’t free because he could never gain me

I hold my tea parties without company
tons of ladies would love to accompany me
yet I rather be alone not with my frocks but
my tittle, my household, my leisure books and my queen Spaniel!

By Elena Kokonova

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