Kennt ihr das auch, dass ihr eine grundsätzlich gute Idee habt, sie aber nicht umsetzen könnt? So ungefähr ging es mir auf dem Flug nach Singapur. Ich hatte da eine Idee für ein Gedicht, und holte meinen Laptop raus und tippte auch ein paar Strophen, aber irgendwie wurde aus den Teilen kein Ganzes, und irgendwann hatte ich genug von der Sache und packte den Laptop wieder ein. Seitdem habe ich immer mal wieder versucht, was draus zu machen, gab aber immer zügig wieder auf, weil der entscheidende Einfall noch fehlte. Gestern fand er mich nun endlich, und ich habe „Flirting with Darkness“ zu Ende geschrieben.
Ich hoffe, mein kleines Gedicht gefällt euch so gut wie mir, aber falls nicht, lasst mich ruhig wissen, was euch stört, oder schlagt Verbesserungen vor. Ich freue mich wie immer über fast jeden Kommentar. Zum Beispiel bin ich von dem Titel noch nicht so ganz überzeugt. Was meint ihr?
On his dark throne in his dark gown,
Ruling over land and seas,
Sits the Dark Lord with his dark crown,
Issuing his dark decrees.
I work in taverns, waiting tables,
Carrying meat and pouring wine,
I live and sleep and eat in stables,
With the beggars and the swine.
He is the darkness, breathing magic, and I didn’t understand
When he bowed and knelt before me, knelt to ask me for my hand.
They call him Dark Lord, call him godlike, call him eternal, call him king.
What do they call me since he offered me that enormous diamond ring?
With iron fist he rules the land,
He forces whom he cannot sway,
So when he asked me for my hand,
I hardly knew what I should say.
I don’t know why and don’t know how,
But he fell in love with me.
And he has given me his vow
That, in my choice in this, I’m free.
They call him devil, call him warlock, say he walks between the worlds,
So why in the name of heaven would he choose me from all the girls
Who willingly would be his slaves just to share his throne and might,
And for a taste of his dark power would fulfil his dreams each night?
„Sweet virgin!“ says he „I am caught!
Your beauty’s rivalling the sun!“
And when I tell him that I’m not,
He says that he could make me one.
When I ask him why he doesn’t
Simply force me to obey,
He answers that my body wasn’t
What he yearned for every day.
He says it was my soul that charmed him, he says it would be sin to break
But every day anew I wonder when he’ll, what I won’t give, just take.
My love, my mind, my soul were his, if he decided to command,
If he so chose, he could corrupt me, as he corrupted all his land.
Sometimes at night upon his towers
I see him watching from above
And every morning I find flowers
With his greetings, and his love.
He is the ruler of this city,
And probably out of his mind,
For even if he thinks I’m pretty,
He must see I am not his kind.
Although I know he is the darkness, temptation cannot be denied.
Maybe, as Dark Queen, I could try to help my Dark Lord get it right.
Sometimes, alone at night, I wonder, what if I took him as my groom?
Maybe I could curb his evil and save his victims from their doom.
How many kinds of fool am I,
Rejecting such a man for pride?
But what kind of fool would try
To become the Dark Lord’s bride?
I spurn his offers, as I should,
Although I might one day regret it,
Because I have to say I would
Like to see certain folks beheaded.
That tax collector in green robes who always tries to pinch my butt,
That stupid guest who drinks too much and then starts puking out his gut,
The innkeep ogling my breasts who cuffs me when I spill his wine,
Those guys really have it coming… Just so I know: Where would I sign?