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 Page: Profile: Poetry   Total Views: 10,210,527  

Poem Specs

VxPoem ID: 4557


Posted: June 11th. 2004 7:12:07 PM

Views: 1099

King Arthur Chronicles: Sir Gawaine

by Jemma Hawtrey

Age Group: Adult

King Arthur Chronicles

Sir Gawaine and the Green Knights Wife

Come my friends and join me
Underneath this ancient tree
And I shall call forth another story
And we will see what we may see

As in the tales I have told before
This tells of Camelot’s fine work
But slays the beast of censorship
Which in other works does lurk.

For when great Arthur pays your wage
It is wiser that you write what’s nice
In case our old friend Merlin gets irate
And cases you in ice.

So the stories they were written
With truth as a point of view
Quietly forgetting the things
That Chivalric Knights they shouldn’t do

(AN…Don’t ask… Just don’t!)

But enough of my preamble
We want to finish sometime today
So if you are all sitting comfortably
To Camelot we will away.

Fair Camelot is still successful
Although the glory days are gone
And simple pewter tableware
Stands where gold once shone

Our story starts at one Samhain
The day of the turning year
Which currently the knights do celebrate
With roast boar and too much beer

AN: Just be glad you aren’t cleaning out the Garderobe…

Twas the middle of the party
And things we going on right well
When from the Doors came a mighty slam
And into the Hall they fell

The knights at the top table
The much-vaunted table-round
Staggered out to see what had happened
Or merely threw up on the ground

A man stood in the door way
Well-built and over six foot three
As he was cased in green hued armour
The drunkards first thought he was a tree

Then he removed his mighty helm
To reveal face that’s wild of eye
And he offered up a new years quest
For any brave enough to try

The knights’ may be alcoholics
But they (mostly) weren’t that thick
You never volunteer for anything
Cos it might just be a trick…

AN: There was all that malarkey about the Majestic Seven….

So they escort their guest to the table
And enquire of him his game
The first information they obtain
Is the swarthy strangers name

“I am a man of many names,
Some of the day and some of night
The people of my fiefdom
They do call me the Green Knight”

He looked slowly round the table
The knights were so drunk they were cross-eyed
He shook his mighty shaggy head
Sat back, and quietly sighed.

“My quest is to one knight here
And is a simple thing to do
I ask you offer me one single blow
Which I’ll return when again the year is new”

The man held up a mighty axe
Its half-moon blades a glistening blue
“The knight who takes the quest here and now
Will use this to cut my neck right through”

“And on joyous Samhain next
He will come to the chapel near my keep
And my blow and my hospitality
Will your comrade reap.”

This caused some consternation
For the knights to a man they knew
That offering bare neck to a weapon
Was something the wise man wont do

(... You’d need more than BUPA for that one…)

Not one single of the knights
Agreed to take the quest
So the fearsome and cunning knight
Thought a change of tack was best

“I thought I was at the greatest court
Of Chivalry and strength within the land
But all I see are Chickens pecking
From a Kings sycophantic hand.
At this deadly insult
One of the ‘Orkney Boys’ stood up
“Ok friend, I’ll take you on
And sup from your devilish cup”

And he took the axe from its owner’s hand
And swinging it thrice to get the heft
Gawaine aimed his single blow
And of his head the Green knight was bereft

But the great body did not fall
And the head hailed the mighty blow
And as its body held it under arm
Said “Remember, next time its my go!”

Poor shocked Gawaine he crumbled
And as he folded and hit the floor
The headless form of the Green Knight
Marched through the hall and out the door.

When Gawaine finally recovered
And his hangover had drifted away
He sat with his four brothers
And mourned the terrible day.

“What am I to do my friends?
I do not have a clue”
If I go I loose my life and head
Or my honour if I don’t follow through

AN: Don’t say it…

Our hero went to Merlin
That skirted man of magic skill
For a way to escape the wager
And avoid his grave to fill.

But Merlin could not help him
For a quest back then was no jest
His advice was to take his blow
And try to keep his head above his chest

Eventually October called
And a nervous Gawaine set out
For Hautdesert, the castle of the Green Knight,
For the long-dreaded terrifying bout.

He finally reached the knights castle
In the middle of a cold winters night
And the burly knight came out to meet them
Glowing with a green and eerie light

Hail and well met my friend
How has gone the last year for you?
Come join us at the high table
And sample my hospitality true.

As Gawaine walked through the portico
His jaw fell and another part went up
The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen
Sipping from a graceful golden cup

AN: If you can’t get that hint… then I give up!

“That my friend is my young wife
The best of that which I hold
If she has any weakness
Its her interest in knights so bold”

Indeed, Gawaine had caught attention
And seen the gleam in that pretty eye
He had the distinct impression that
Given the chance chastity would fly

Come morning the two men met
And a strange agreement it was made
That whatever both men’s daily gain
Would be given in fair trade.

The Knight he went out hunting
In the sylvan forest glade
While Gawaine got down to business
And the chaste young wife got laid

And come the velvet touch of night
The green knight he does return
Carrying a fresh killed buck
His guests fortune for to learn

Gawaine greeted him warmly
And marvelled at the Knights skill
And sent a silent prayer to the heavens
That the wife was on the pill

He gave the knight a single kiss
I danced and talked with your fair wife
But even with all my skill
But one kiss, upon my life.

Came the morning once again
And the knight goes to the hunt
And guess where we find Sir Gawaine?
To the hilt in a young wife’s ****

AN: and no, its not her nose...

Again the night follows from the day
As these things are wont to do
And the great knight returns with fresh killed boar
That makes an appetising evening stew

And again he asks Sir Gawaine
How did you fair, kind sir?
Was it talking once again,
Or your tongue in teenage fur?

AN: Do you think he’s suspicious…? Nah

Gawaine replied as once before
I tried every thing I knew
But your wife she is a credit
To you she remained most true!

On the third day the pattern followed
As it had been wont to do
The Green Knight took himself hunting
And Gawaine to his wife to screw

The knight returned with wily Fox
That he had killed anew
Gawaine greeted him cordially
The knight didn’t have a clue

It is now time to take my blows
And they will number three
For three are the days my friend
You have stayed with my wife and me

So they walked down the chapel
And Sir Gawaine bared his neck
The green Knight testing the sharpness
On the wood of an old hay heck

The first blow came whistling down
Closely followed by numbers two and three
But mystery of mysteries
There was not a drop of blood to see

Get up, my friend, the Green Knight said
Our bargain has been fulfilled
But had you succumbed to my young wife
You would have been swiftly killed

Sir Gawaine bid them both farewell
And turned his horse for Camelot
He waved back to his companions
And kicked his horse to a fast trot

And now here ends the story
Of fair Gawaine of Camelot
He was one of the best liars
But Chivalric he was not!

The moral of this story
And tis one that still holds true
What they don’t know won’t hurt ‘em
More important, it wont hurt you!

So now my friends again I leave you
This Story-smith must be on his way
But maybe I’ll come this way again
Some other summers’ day.

And we’ll have another story
To chase the lazy hours away…

Copyright Durin ab Iceni (Jon Marriage) 11/06/04 23:44

Author's Notes: Wes thu hal all

Another new one..

This one went really well, it just seemed to flow a lot better than I expected it would.

Greets to all the usual people and I hope you enjoy this latest chapter of the true history of Camelot :)

walk in light


"Micheal Howard take the hindmost!" - Comment overhead at the count for an ex-labour council.

"To quote that great elder statesman, Sir Edmund Blackadder, "I think the phrase rhymes with Clucking Bell" - Tony Blair on hearing the June '04 election results

Author's Location: Colchester, England
More Poems: Jemma Hawtrey has posted 70 additional poems- View them?
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