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Mel BrakE Press has a liberal submission policy, and will accept poetry manuscripts (not books) for its next publication cycle, the Spring of 2018.

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Friday, July 27, 2012

A Poetry Collection of J. ROGERS BARROW

J. ROGERS BARROW is a frequent contributor to MEL BRAKE PRESS, and we welcome his latest work.

Princess of the Lost
The Lost Kingdom
North of Siam, lay the Kingdom of Nan, forgotten by time,
Her king, proud and aloof.
Rich farmland, well tended and kept, with holy wat revered,
Tall, with gilded roof.
Proud were her people, secure in their homes; with temples of stone,
By holy men ruled, taught by the sage.
Passed by and forgot, in the highland green, known only to few,
Kingdom, land of the past age.
There once dwelled a maiden, teacher by trade, now mother and wife,
In her home by the sea.
Peasant girl, once, now learned and strong, proud and free,
Still Lady of Nan, shall she be.
Seeking Merit
Drums, drums went before, with horns,
Sounding loud.
Women followed, in groups seeking merit,
Solemn and pious, the crowd.
Garments fine, garish colors, some with discolored hems,
Feet bare;
Women humble, simple in faith, women peasant born,
Fate to dare.
Men of ancient orders, cheeks pierced by pins;
Eldritch knowledge, teachings arcane.
All bound to some wat, with the city alerted by the drums,
By the march down the lane.
Massed, the ranks of the king, ruler of Ayuddha, did stand,
Borne by boats of sail.
Yellow banners did stream, in the gale,
Over the ranks in mail.
Our ranks of horse did bravely charge, our phalanx advanced,
Relentless all.
Arrows showered down, our men with bows,
Took their toll.
Long Life, Forward the Prince, was our cry,
Our foe did fee.
Panic did we spread, from the rear we came,
Victory did we see.
Lost Children
Flames rose above the towers of Ayuddha, searing and cruel,
Fate most dire.
Screams shattered the night, people filled the way,
Bastions afire.
Lost children cried for succor, standing by still bodies,
Alone, and doomed.
Foemen, minions of their Prince, slashed at the guard,
Red blood did run.
Girls stripped of their robes, despoiled,
Slavery their fate.
Proud city, bastion of empire, fallen this day,
Day of rage, and hate.
Queen of Darkness
Robes of black, the wise woman did wear, her hair did fly in the gale,
Queen of Siam, Lady and Seer.
Jealous of power, ruled by fury and greed, her spells she cast,
Kings and princes, her did fear.
Demons she called, to slay and rend, plagues and droughts,
She sent at her will.
Her minions, kingdoms she did give, crowns their reward,
Thrones thus did she fill.
Kingdoms and empires, did she sway, riches command,
All, all in her hands.
Power did she consume, and still greater her hunger,
Ruled did she all mortal lands.
My brown body I will cast
At your feet.
I have sold my virgin body,
To you, Master.
A handful of copper coins,
Man of the West;
My red blood covers my rags,
Cruel Master.
I cannot sleep, I do not eat,
Will I see you,
Before I die? Will my son,
Know his father?
Your hard wife, a high lady;
She can spare me,
Surely, a crust of bread, a place near,
Her hearth.
I am your concubine, only,
My mouth warm,
My lips soft; you may watch,
Me bathe, Master mine.
Life After Life
For 10,000 years I have sought your love,
As you have seen.
Once we lived in Babylon; I your slave,
You were Queen.
In Teotihuacan you were a temple maiden;
I my life cruelly lost.
Long ago, I carried you away, dear one,
When I raided the Saxon Coast.
But in old Ayuddha, you were warrior bold;
I was your whore.
You were so heartless then, so proud,
So says the lore.
Blue Eyes
His eyes were blue, a uniform he wore,
His sons I bore.
His ship was of steel, with guns of might,
It lay near the shore.
His gift was a great house, and chains of gold,
My mother had joy.
My son the best schools, did attend,
High position, the boy.
Many lovers he had, in many lands,
But I was senior wife.
He lies now near the temple, there still I go,
While I have life.
Bride Price
My mother wanted a high bride price, many gold chains;
Only rich man could talk to her.
He was a man with blue eyes, a trader, very rich,
He gave me a fine house.
I gave him two sons, I cared for him; I was very proud,
My family was poor.
My sons were like their father, they were well schooled,
One a teacher, one a trader too.
When we walked to temple, I was respected by all,
First in my home province.
I was a money lender, fine families came to me,
Once a mere peasant girl.
Iron Ship
His fleet he did command, in the war,
Doom for the foe.
His guns of steel, terror of the sea,
Empires brought low.
But to me he did cling, like a boy,
Eager to make his mark.
His men feared his glance, if error made,
On the ocean dark.
But my hand he held, if skies were dark,
Or pain he felt.
My embrace was dear, weak as I was,
This prize was I dealt.

(J. ROGERS BARROW) Jerome Brooke lives in the Kingdom of Siam. He is married to Jiraporn, a princess of the lost Kingdom of Nan - a valley lost in the rugged highlands of the North, once free under the rule of their wise king.
He has written Myth of the Eternal Return (

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