The Layde Scarlett


The Layde Scarlett – A poem by Sir Peter James dotcom

Scarlet, fairest of all maidens, that I perchance have set eyes upon. Within whose breasts beats a heart of care and tenderness

Whose warm eyes have called out the cold sorrow from within my heart, to an embrace so inviting, that my fears were pulled from the flames of anger burning within me. Fears who knew their berthing in my innermost, since I were in my mother’s womb. Drawing my heart to a place of calm waters and shady trees. Where my soul was stilled and my heart filled with peace and joy; a place where sorrows’ no longer reign.

Your knight awaits you My Layde

My Layde Scarlett took me by my hand, her hand so soft and gentle. She led me, with steps that were light as a feather, as if we were walking across the petal of a flower. Can it be that a soul so light of step, so tender of hand could lead me with such rule of intention, as if she purposed it, before time had begun? Yet it were done, as in a dream, so slow, so yielding, that we walked upon a cloud.

Your knight awaits you My Layde.

Scarlett, The Layde; woman of courage and integrity; who overcomes her fear with boldness and strength of a goddess; would you always be here, leading me with your hand, so faint and fair, to a place, that only you know where?

Does My Layde, truly know where? Will she take me to dreams hidden; places yet unfound, or will she lead me at her pleasure, to where ‘ere she will’?

Your knight awaits you My Layde.

Where My Lady Scarlett leads me to, I care not, for my joy is boundless and my heart is light and whilst my step is as upon the soft grass of the meadow, it is as if I were, very sure of where she would guide me.

Gentle art thou, Lady Scarlett and thy bosom is warm and comforting even as the rhythm of thy heartbeat, drawing me close to you. The rise and fall of your breasts, My Layde dost lift me to horizons beyond my belief.

Your knight awaits you My Layde.

Sir Peter James, a bold knight of old, awoke amongst his dreams fair and gazed at the morning star above.

The star beckoned to him, ‘Come Sir, there is a fair maiden who pines for thee …she has gazed at me for many a while, and called, “Sir, where art thou?”

I saith, “My Layde, be patient, for your knight has heard your cry and yearns to lay his head upon your bosom

His heart yearns to be betrothed to the maiden of his dreams, yet the journey is long, the battles many and dragons fierce.

Be still My Layde, for your knight cometh.

Your knight has turned from the battles and comes to seek you. He is a knight, Cœur de Lyon, yea, lions too must have their rest. His rest shall be upon your bosom, My Layde. His comfort and joy be there. You, my Layde shall bear his offspring and these shall suckle at your breasts, your heart will be comforted, your womanhood complete.

Be still My Layde, for your knight cometh.

His maiden came to dwell in his dreams as the fragrance of a rose that cometh upon a midsummer night’s breeze. She cometh to his dreams as would an angel, a healer to his weary soul; she spake soft words ministering to the cry of his lonely heart. Her faint hands doth caress his face, bringing a healing balm to his battled scarred person,

The lion slept on, willing that the dream should never end.

Be still my Layde, for your knight cometh.

In the early morn, he riseth and mounted his faithful charger, a stead whom carrieth him faithfully through many hellish places. As in his dreams, his thoughts were upon his maiden, waiting for her knight.

Then, upon the rise of a hill his eyes doth see, set before him, the castle Albertinshire, shimmering in the early morning sun beams.

Upon this glorious sight he saith to his steed, “Faithful friend, we are home. Within those walls walks the maiden of my dreams. Soon I will hold her in my arms and make known to her sweet person, that her knight hath come and no more will leave her side to fight battles”.

Behold My Layde, your knight hath come.

The Layde Scarlett welcomed her knight, Sir Peter James, October 20 2015

Copywrite sirpeterjames.com@2017

 

Advertisements

Sir Peter James a Knight of Old


11711121-3d-render-of-a-fire-breathing-dragon--portrait

Ode in honor of all those who war with demons of substance addiction to rescue their fellow humans, before these seek the solace of their own deaths.

Continue reading “Sir Peter James a Knight of Old”

A Tailor’s Shoppe


Butterfly and Caterpillar

Per chance, there was a day, when as I went, I espied, that there were a tailor’s shoppe along the way.

Surely, I cried, this is the place that I should seek, to have those changes to my attire that I wish to make.

Continue reading “A Tailor’s Shoppe”