dedalus Posted October 23, 2009 Share Posted October 23, 2009 (edited) I had words on the tip of my tongue and was just about to say them, when a whitewash seemed to splash over me and left me gawping blank and mindless: fuck if this don't be happening too often lately, as if my thoughts were cast out to sea and no boats sent after them, leaving them there to roar and drown. I frown and pull myself together, wrapping quilts around me, rat-tap-tapping a soft tattoo on the backbone of the purring complacent cat. There are noises without, but I fear them not, they are as nothing to the voices within. One does not, I reflect, expect to grow old, one does not think of it, not when one is young and manly, so full of sap and strength and laughing and careless, it never really crosses the mind. Now I have grown old, grown old and ill, all in a single season, and face the disposition of the Empire. My sons are fools, my wives little better; they engage in shoddy political manoeuvres as if I were deaf and blind. But I expected that, and it is possible that I would not mind so much had they not been so thoughtless shallow and unkind. I find I resent the way they have considered me deaf and almost blind as they soon will dicover, when they will pay with their lives. X and Y and Z must die with their families to be sent into exile; four of the more strident concubines will be silently, expertly, painlessly strangled dispatched, needless to say, with silken cords in the traditional manner, as befits their station. One must uphold the standards of the nation. Many of the servants must be executed by simpler means, the rest thrown into prison as a frisson of fear runs through the land. This is all to the good. We do so little for the people as it is, they enjoy a bloodletting of their betters; it helps to soften the clamp of the iron fetters that grip them in taxation, that send their sons to war. I learned this from grandfather, whose great-grandfather conquered this kingdom from the back of a horse. But you cannot rule a kingdom from the back of a horse, you need to bring in the Christians and the Jews who are educated people, scholars and artisans; and you must keep a stern rein on your own people, bluff warriors and dangerous partisans. As a child I listened: this is what grandfather told me. Bluff warriors and dangerous partisans, I chuckle mirthlessly. Grandfather, you had only to see your gaggle of descendants coming after me to readily agree with my stringent course. They will die or be sent away: I shall spare any boy who shows he can ride a horse. Edited October 24, 2009 by dedalus Quote Drown your sorrows in drink, by all means, but the real sorrows can swim Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dr_con Posted October 24, 2009 Share Posted October 24, 2009 Quite stylish!- It flows from one moment to the next painting a wondrous auto-portrait of the last Sultan. Really a nice example of your lyrical work combined with a well crafted portraiture- and a great historical insight....... Enjoyed! DC&J Quote thegateless.org Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
JoelJosol Posted October 24, 2009 Share Posted October 24, 2009 This story in a poem fascinated me. Thanks for sharing, dedalus. Quote "Words are not things, and yet they are not non-things either." - Ann Lauterbach Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
tonyv Posted October 24, 2009 Share Posted October 24, 2009 What strikes me the most is how the poem starts out on some emotional level -- I had words on the tip of my tongueand was just about to say them, when a whitewash seemed to splash over me and left me gawping blank and mindless: fuck if this don't be happening too often lately, as if my thoughts were cast out to sea and no boats sent after them, leaving them there to roar and drown. I frown and pull myself together, wrapping quilts around me ... -- from where it slips into the emperor's mundaneness, his everyday disposal of his chattel: They will die or be sent away: I shall spareany boy who shows he can ride a horse. How matter-of-factly effective! In some superficial way, he is even fair: My sons are fools, my wives little better;they engage in shoddy political manoeuvres as if I were deaf and blind. He is critical of his own, though it's doubtful he is as austere with them. And these lines remind me a lot of the part in Robert Frost's Desert Places -- There are noises without, but I fear them not,they are as nothing to the voices within -- where Frost writes, "They cannot scare me with their empty spaces/Between stars—on stars where no human race is/I have it in me so much nearer home/To scare myself with my own desert places." I'm no sultan, but I understand his frustration(s), and I can especially relate to the first four verses of your poem. Well done! Tony Quote Here is a link to an index of my works on this site: tonyv's Member Archive topic Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Tinker Posted November 9, 2009 Share Posted November 9, 2009 Hi Brennan, How do you come up with this stuff? I am wracking my brain for something to write about and you spin a wonderful tale about an aging sultan... totally believable, intriguing and lyrical. Tony gave a great review, I just have to thank for using "gawp", what a great word. ~~Tink Quote ~~ © ~~ Poems by Judi Van Gorder ~~ For permission to use this work you can write to Tinker1111@icloud.com Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Aleksandra Posted November 19, 2009 Share Posted November 19, 2009 Perfect expressions which impressed me a lot. Tony pointed all, the same what I have in my mind. Thank you for sharing. Aleksandra Quote The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth - Jean Cocteau History of Macedonia Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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