The Platform (And why I use notes with poetry)

The Platform

And there on the platform, in the faint afternoon
my pulse throbs in the warm sun; I know why I am a poet
of the time of Robert Bly, and Hall;
in this impatient city, Huancayo, I look for quant places
with other tepid things…
I’m no longer a dreamer, nor wish to deceive,
but only to be average and myself—and see, I mean
really, really, really see—see beyond my knees.
The afternoon becomes a faded blue and late—thin.
And the words in my book stop humming in my head.
In less than an hour this mysterious restlessness will descend,
twilight will turn into night, and I will write again, when
I get home, perhaps, or at the platform, tomorrow, perhaps.
I get tired. I get blind. I get lost, but I don’t stop! Never stop!...

No: 1923 7-28-2007


Note: I spend a lot of my time (hours upon hours between five and twelve hours daily) everyday, reading writing, looking, searching, talking, listening, praying. It is a great gift to be able to do this, to live each moment, to try to bury pretense, search for the meanings, to try not to live under self interests day after day. While in Minnesota, I go to the Bookstore to pass my afternoons in reading and writing, I did for ten years; in Lima, I found a favorite restaurant and there I read and write, and in Huancayo, Peru, I found the Platform. I guess in ever coroner and nook of the world, there is a tiny little spot for me, and I suppose the Good Lord knows that is all I need, so I take what he offers, while I can.

(About my Poetry and notes) Some people have asked why I make notes for some of my poetry. Very few people do, if any. My notes are really an extension of my poetry. Poetry is really a condensed story to me, usually with a theme. Two-thousand to twenty-thousand words put into 300-words or less. It can be very personal; therefore you can lose the reader in an entanglement, or a web of some kind, you can say. This is not the effect that I want. Also in most of my poetry and in the poetry I read of others (over and over), there is an element, a piece of substance, called insight which I feel is important in poetry, and perhaps a note will help the reader from becoming lost between the words.
Plus by putting it into a note form, you have the option to read it or not. Sometimes you do not need to look at the notes because your experiences in life have allowed you to discern immediately its contextual meaning (or background). Others may not have this knowledge, experience, but can decipher other parts—that is why such writers like William Faulkner and his kind have chapbooks printed nowadays so folks can understand what they wrote.

Illumination above Germany (1970-1976)

Long I watched your light arrive, from east to west, now enmeshed
from dark to dim to light! Your arms no longer severed from your body—.
O Munich, Munich! Evermore —dancing on your wooden floors
drunker than a skunk, young men, young punks, young everyone
Oktoberfest tents, tents, tents, echoes everywhere with bronze horns;
a taste of flavored birch-beer, swims down pleasing to my guts!
Ah! an endlessly serge, the Oktoberfest—of ‘70!)—: down, down
pour it down, down, backed chicken all around, light arrives…!
The Black Forest,’ of Bavaria: wherein the beauty of its deep
resides, where no sunlit gleams within, where is the tender sky?
Too much white, too much gleam, too many trees—lovemaking
on leather seats, cramped in the front like birds in a tree!...
Nothing penetrating, but white, white, restless white…!
Here, yes here is where splendor dies, with cold memories.
Augsburg there’s an old Roman wall of stone, homeless
looking, as if a dog left a bone, forgot to retrieve it—.
This old ruin: soundless, secretive she stands, unbothered under
the grave sun: can’t find the doors only old mortar and rock,
I wonder what’s in its cryptic past, surely Roman death, death
I cannot answer why, but the blood runs faster, faster, down
my neck to catch up with its sardonic past….
Along the banks of the River Mosel high above the lower hills
Are ancient orchards fresh and mild?—Castles with valley breeze!
That was the Mosel for me, back in ´76. Cochem commands the Mosel´s slopes
formed by volcanic upheavals, long ago—here the towering Reichsburg blows
Bows to the Valley River below to its mighty volcanic slopes…!
It is marvelous in all senses, to have walked on these ancient stones
to have carry memories of this marvel, to cast light on this—long ago…,
Heidelberg, an ancient courtyard, women carrying men, like children
carrying dogs, five-hundred years ago, such a victory, but for who?
Walls and halls battered. Johannisburg Castle—the Pink Palace
Down around the River Main: Pink-sandstone, king size courtyard
simply majestic, Aschaffenburg´s gem! Wuerzburg´s also a legacy.


Note: The author lived in Germany in the 1970s for five years, and has seen much of West Germany, and enmeshed within this multi rhythm poem is his experiences as a youth. No: 1922 7-28-2007

Polirritmo of the Steel Horse (A Motorcycle Poem)

Polirritmo of the Steel Horse (A Motorcycle Poem)

The humming of my wheels
the quivering and dodging
car after car, after car…
tires, chrome, windows flashing by
and the purring of the engine
I have driven into a beehive
with my motorcycle!—life!
I slant to the side, right and left
the wind slaps my face, my chest
my face feels like a mashed mug.
I see my way ahead, turns, curves
cars and boulevards, bridges
grass, streets that—that’s all but flashes….
My steel, chrome and rubber horse
is burning up its internal guts,
its pumping pistons, is like a drug
as I dodge, and stretch the white
lines on the street into one—;
the cars, and trucks…one by one
by one by one, I sail around them
like a bullet, over and over I
escape, jumping the corners and
leaping the curves…running, darting,
spurting… through elephants
on all sides of me; it’s all in the motor
the wheels, the dizziness, the high,
the legs and arms, and eyes, all in the
reflexes, the breathing…smells;
its hot motor wants to fly… I have
a freedom an inflamed spirit
I hear nothing but everything
it is all one… these sounds,
one big plunge, thrust—
into a nervous heart that
keeps pumping and pumping
passing and passing—(and if
I stop, I have to rewind…)
and dodging the wind, the cars
and the sharks, and the birds,
and the dogs and the figures
figures, figures, figures,
people, people…poles and
and empty lots, then
I become exhausted with life!
Now what?


No: 1922 7-27-2007 Moving and condensed poetry, poetry that captures the movement and spirit of the theme is seldom done, and can only be done by someone who has experienced the motion, the condensed actions, and here we have a trip around the city on my motor cycle, I have not driven one for a while but like the poet Juan Parra Del Riego, enjoyed it when I did and when I do. And so I dedicated this poem to Him. Inspired by Juan Parra del Riego. This style of poetry has several rhythms to it, called Polirritmo.

The Mantaro Valley, of Peru: Another Wonder of the World (Edited and Revised by Dennis L. Siluk)

ENGLISH Short VERSION


THE MANTARO VALLEY, of Peru
ANOTHER WONDER OF THE WORLD

Written by: Jose Arrieta
Translated by Rosa Peñaloza de Siluk & Edited and Revised by Dennis L. Siluk


Note: as you read through this synopses of a trip through the Mantaro Valley, keep in mind not all these locations can be gotten to by train, it may take buses or cars, but in Huancayo, there are travel agencies.

Through this brochure (by reading it, it will guide you through the REGION of JUNIN); what we hope it will do is: help you become aware, with your eyes, ears and mental images (imagination) to capture the majesty and splendour of one of the marvels of the world, the “MANTARO VALLE (of Central Peru within the magnificent Andes) which is becoming known throughout the world as another marvel.

“I wish I would be a great Shaman or a powerful Andean person to possess the power of the spell and the charm, and in this moment to transform and to transport all of you for a few minutes to see, to feel, and to enjoy the charm, marvels and tourist attractions of my majestic Mantaro Valley.”

By: Miguel Antignani.


Believe it or not, there is a restless power, vitality, energy in the Mantaro Valley that will captivate you, it is almost like magic, it draws you into it, into its Wanka history, its unconquerable legacy, with its celebrations year round, beautiful sun, and delicious assortment of foods, it is like a spell, in that it will fascinate and spoil those who try to possess her; her being, the Mantaro Valley with all its old time customs, traditions, and culture.

In the process of coming to the Mantaro Valley from Lima, you may wish to visit the Valley of Hatun Mayo also: so let’s present here an imaginary trip for a better understanding:

It is possible to get there using different means of transportation but I suggest, for the first time travellers to this area (and for a beautiful view), take the Central Railroad a portion of the way (and buses and other transportation as needed), and celebrate its 100th year anniversary of its operation and construction.

Assuming you will be taking the train a portion of the way, you come aboard at “Desamparados”; next, the train will ascend to higher altitudes ((close to 16,000 Feet)( busses will also do this)) and throughout this journey, it will also pass through some sixty-tunnels, and a number of zigzags, to include crossing forty-five bridges, thus, we end up almost touching the clouds at the famous city called Ticcllo. Beyond this point, the train will take you even higher, in the process one can see towering summits and lagoons, and then through the renowned city of La Oroya, where here lays the bowels of the Andes, and where precious metals are transformed into human wealth.

As we continue on this course (via, train)to the famous Hatun Mayo, one will see typical highlands, beautiful landscapes; and enmeshed within this excursion, one will hear the tranquilizing sounds of the flowing waters of the Mantaro River. Along this passageway, it will be somewhat possible to see Old Inca Roads, and perhaps capture some old Inca and Wanka stone walls, with your cameras.
Further on, is the dark and telluric snow-capped mountain called Pariacaca.
There at Pariacaca, one can hear the endless flow of the rivers Cochas and Pachacayo, and see the surrounding forest called ‘Raymondi’ in Canchayllo
.
(Check to see if the train runs this way, or you may take a trip from Huancayo to this location by car or bus.)

As we continue on this journey, there is an abundance of vegetarian and the climate abruptly changes; hence, we are now entering ‘Jauja.’
(Incidentally, this is the way earlier settlers went, when visiting, settling or seeking to settle in this country style haven; here one wakeups to a hearty breakfast of rolls of corn, hot bread, and eggs, at many of the hotels and restaurants.)

Laguna de Paca
(In The Mantaro Valley)


Still in the Mantaro Valley (in the province of Jauja) one may wish to visit the famous Laguna de Paca, it can be reached coming back from another destination (heading into the Huancayo area), or from Lima through the Andes, and into the valley. It has been said (by legend, and the editor of this article has seen one of the ghosts) there is a sunken city in the lake, and a ghost or ghosts thereabouts linger about the edge of the lake at night, and people have said they hear them howl at night, and the bells of the sunken church rings at midnight.

Also, the valley has the lake called Tragadero, which the Wanka race is very proud of.

In addition to these two lakes you may wish to become familiar with some of its legends and folklore, perhaps you will find a guide to tell you some of them; they make for a good past time, socialization, and are very interesting and entertaining.

The Monastery & Blue Valley


The next city, before the Blue Valley (a valley within the Mantaro Valley), is Ocopa, a must see place, its monastery, and library with antique books making it a most interesting historical site. Here you will see layers of culture, Christendom as it was developed in this region, and the hardships depicted on old paintings.

While in the Mantaro Valley, you are in the Central Region of Peru; here resides the Blue Valley I previously mentioned, that is, the valley within the valley, with a most handsome river running through it, and restaurants with delicious trout, and women doing their laundry the old fashion way, in the river itself, while pigs, dogs, cats donkeys pace along the river’s edge idly.

Furthermore, we must not forget the famous and rich artichokes this area is known for, and the land of the trout, a delicious fish, that will satisfy most anyone’s appetite.


The City of Concepcion
(And the Second largest Statue in South America)


In another city called Concepcion, a tinge larger than most of them in the Mantaro Valley, excluding, Huancayo, they have a fiesta in July, of the bread, and the renowned ride of the donkey who carries a number of baskets of bread through the city.
By all means, there is much to see in the valley, to keep the busy person active, and for the more tranquil person, there are ruins and museums, among other sites, where one needs not be as active.
Let me talk a little more on the city of Conception, it has what is called the Ugarte House (predating the Pacific War with Chile and Peru); across the street is the Main Church, where there was a great battle in front of it; and its famous fountain of water in the Plaza de Arms, just a few steps across the street.
“Stone-Still, “perhaps can be considered a lookout point, for the view there is overwhelming, it captures almost the whole valley, and you can rest numerable times on your walk up to the point, and there normally are a number of handcraft sellers on the ascension. On top of the hill is the second largest statue in South America, of the Virgin Mary of the Immaculate Concepcion. Perhaps if you are lucky, you can enter the statue, climb up its several flights, and look through her eyes, looking out upon the city and valley.


Huancayo
(City of the Wanka and the Treasure of Catalina Wanka)


Just before you enter Huancayo, seven miles to Huancayo you will pass the silver city of the world, San Jeronimo; do not pass this city up, for kings have ordered their gold carving from this little village. This also is the land of the dancing Los Avelinos, where in August of each year there is a big fiesta.
Also in San Jeronimo, the most famous lady of the Mantaro Valley once lived here, “Catalina Wanka” most famous for hiding a treasure she was going to give to the Spanish to free the last Inca King. Well, no one has found it, yet…and her house can still be seen in San Jeronimo, and so for the treasure hunters, good luck.

Now let me introduce you to Huancayo. There is a saying, and street, referred to as “The Little Way” and perhaps if you drive into Huancayo during daylight you will notice it.
Huancayo has a lot of history behind it, and you can get most everything you need there, if not in the other smaller cities in the Mantaro Valley; they even have a large hospital, and a number of good restaurants, and hotels (three Stars) to chose from, and a famous Sunday market that you can buy most anything you wish, and bargain for it, it is a shoppers paradise, a must for a hunter of odds and ends.
The Cathedral and Plaza de Arms, have a profound history. Here slavery took place, and was abolished, also it is the place in Peru, where the First Constitution was proclaimed, and that was in 1839. Huancayo dates to around 1572 AD, as a city, and predates that as far as being inhabited by the valley folks. And when you walk the downtown area, you cannot miss the famous ‘Real’ street. It is an artist haven, or poet’s corner.

Pachamanca

As Peru is well known worldwide as a place for different tastes of food, the Mantaro Valley has its own also (for it is a world sit aside from the world). That is to say, it has a particular food called: Pachamanca, which is only possible to get in the Mantaro Valley. And also, the famous soup for breakfast “Mondongo.”


THE MANTARO VALLEY can boast of many things, but let’s simply say, it has come to the edge of its awakening age, its people wish to welcome you, and are very hospitable to strangers, and visitors. Come one, come all and join in the land of mystic, dance, songs, fiestas, foods, and the Andes, come to the Mantaro Valley, it is a different world, you may never want to leave once you see and experience its magic.

The Writing of:“Sir Gawain and the Ghost of the Green Knight” and "The Soldiers of Nirut" (Two Epics

About these two epic poems in the book, “Sir Gawain and the Ghost of the Green Knight,” and “The Soldiers of Nirut,” for those who have been following this series of events in the two epics I’ve written, which may or may not be put into a forth coming book, may wish to know about how I was feeling when I wrote these poems (or perhaps we can call them stories, for they have themes, plots and insight to them).
In the complete series of each story, which makes them a whole store once put together, which are two epics, about 65% of each story is of a poetic nature: form, structure, genre, the rest in prose, with a combination stylistic narrations, I wanted to create a complete story with the first attempt, or sketch or story. Which I did: that is to say, if you read the first main tale of either epic, you get a full story. If you read on, you get histories (events, adventures, Linking Vignettes, Interlude Campaigns, etc.)
Much of epics are internally interwoven with what I call common types of figurative meanings (metaphor; i.e., ‘…rusted nails’ meaning an image for a nail for the image of the woman, etc), trying to be more descriptive and explanatory.
I could have, but I didn’t smooth everything into a two story book, linking the stories together like chapters, except for the first parts of each story, the reason being, that is not how the story came to me, came into my head. It came in blocks, blotch or at times in the middle of the night, afternoon while resting on the platform, or while resting at home watching TV. These building blocks came one by one and I built the stories like that. It seemed the Green Knight series came first, and abruptly stopped, and then Nirut came tumbling down on top of me, and wouldn’t stop. Some in poet prose, some in dramatic prose, or dialogue and so for and so on. So the two epics are as they came, and all most in the same order, although I had to stick the campaigns of Nirut in the middle of his epic, where it really was came at the end of it.
The two epics, the first—dealing with the Green Knight, I wanted three things: romance, a courtly background, and adventure, which I got. The second, “Nirut…” I wanted a hero of sorts, in the cosmic vastness of a dark galaxy, one that could consume all the Cadaverous Planets I had previously written about to include the ‘Tiamat,’ the ‘Port of Poseidonia,’ (and the creative planets I wrote, such as Moiromma, Ice-cap, Cibara, and SSARG; plus the new one I added Lihterb). But I wanted a background, a history, and a spark of kindness in Nirut; his father, the Blue King was just really another character in the background for me, but somehow he emerged to be a little more, but we are a product of our environment, and so his father was necessary to rebuild, and he became a prototype of him, as often we do, perhaps he could be linked to my grandfather if indeed I was to claim I was Nirut, and I do not claim that. And all his romances are really second in line to his conquests of planets, and perhaps, they are both similar, women and planets.
(For those who wish to know who my aspirators were, there were many. George Sterling, Ezra Pound, J.R.R. Tolkien, Robert Bly, Robert E. Howard, Robert Fagles, and Bernard Knox, and Homer of the Iliad, an E.V. Gordon and his translations of “Sir Gawain and the Green Knight” (1955 Middle English Translation), and the mighty internet where I did research, and Excerpts from J.R.R. Tolkens’s 1979, Translations of “Sir Gawain…” and the works of “Perceval,” dating from 1190 to 1980, translations. Also, Middle English translations on Sir Orfeo (and synopsis for the internet), originally unpublished by J.R.R. Tolkien, and published after his death by his son Christopher Tolkien; all this plus much more, many of my writings influenced my writings on these two epics, for as I read my imagination soared. Do not get me wrong, we are all fed by what we take in, like it or not we are influenced, and that is the only reason I give the folks above, inspirational credit, other than that I do not. Most all the characters are taken from my previous stories or books, like Marduk, or several other demonic forces or characters I use, even Sinned, from my previous ‘Tiamat…’ trilogy. Information used also from the book “The Rape of Angelina of Glastonbury,” which I wrote some years ago. Now back to the poetry essay :)
In Nirut, it is a stirring story of war, rage, gripping the reader, if she or he reads it through and through. Perhaps women will not be too happy with Nirut; he is a predisposed creature to say the least.
In both epics I try to make the scenes as vividly as I can with the lesser of works, not too violent, but to fit the relentlessness of the characters, for the Green Knight, Gawain, and Nirut are all out of the same mold, sort of.
All the words are filled with energy and imagination, at times the metric meter, is evoking and I try to induce an impact, or effect with them, or so it was my goal to, feeling that is the ultimate of poetry, to get an effect, the one you want, that is also I do believe why the Bible is written in prose and poetry, one to evoke emotions the other to provoke ones thinking.
The epics, in each segment have its own outline, and poetic resources, I do believe. We have what an epic demands, heroic figures engaged in historical events, mythical yes. And for the most part, we have a narrative poem—internally interweaving (and monologue and dialogue, with first and third person narrations, and report narrations from the author, a combination.) In a like manner, we have a dramatic poem, written in a dialogue and monologue voice, of characters created by the poet. I do not care to have an argument abut the overall effect and function of this, for the careful reader it will not present a problem. In many sections of the story, you will read and see the background research, and it will explain the historical circumstances of the poem, or writings; for that is what it was meant to do. I do this also with most of my other writings, so to me it is not new, although it may be to the reader.
We see for the most part poetic prose, a form of free verse but with other elements used, depending on what section of the 36,700 word book you shift to, that is both epics consist of that amount of words, along with the index and other gathers. I also use personification, or figure of speech in the text, this helps me explain or show what I mean, which is important to me. All in all, what is import I think in the story, besides the theme, which we may have more than one, if you wish to take the story in sections, is evolution, mostly in Nirut, and partly with the Green Knight?
What was the purpose of the basic outlines? You may ask, what sort of statement the epics make, in both cases, a fair question. First one needs to look at the details of the story, poem, the big picture, with little questions. Does it teach you something in life? Is there interesting data? Have you read the Epic attentively, slowly, if so you will find these other elements? (They are there, as William Faulkner said in so many words during his speech for his Nobel Prize: there should be an ethical insight in what a person writes, or so I’ve translated his speech to mean.) I do believe you will be able to pick these out of both epics.
Description, feelings and imagination; the poetry fills the gap I need for feelings, and of course adjectives help, and I draw off of my experiences, travels, and my studies in psychology, which I’ve used for thirty-years. The imagination for this book I suppose some of it comes from my eleven years in the Army, which helps the description part for Nirut, and my interest in astronomy and archeology, and my adventures, liken to the Green Knight, again, we can add the soldier part of my lfie, in on this also.
I try, like most writers try, that is to fit or refer to things in the physical world into words, with poetry, you get feelings and confession, and at times confusion, but that is the price you have to pay for intimacy. Prose is quite different.
I did try hard to pay attention to density in these two epics, and put in the language of intensity and imagery.
I do not wish to talk about the meter in particular—not at the cost of a lest interesting story, I feel it is less important here, the pattern created in a line (s) to create sounds and stress on syllables, is not paramount to this project, yet it is there if you look for it. Each line contains its own levels of meaning, as it should (and each line was looked at carefully), and in the overall structure of each segments throughout the writings of the two epics, it was important to the understanding of the poetry, with this in mind, I have tried to keep it simple.
Written 7-18-2007, and revised 7-19-2007, in Huancayo, Peru at my apartment

The Slaying in the Night (Sir Gawain and the Green Knight)

The Slaying in the Night
(Sir Gawain and the Green Knight)

The Green Knight came back from war
His armor low, his spoil high:
Trunks of silk and weeping wives,
Gold, and wine and precious oils.

There was one that did not weep
But laughed in the Knight’s face,
And between the Lady and the Knight
He stood in a warrior’s stance.

Her Hair, a golden-yellow light
In which two knights sank;
Her frame was contoured just right,
At which all women dreamed.

Her lips were crimson red; her eyes
Liken to the sea, bluish-green
She wore a see-through gown,
One that all could see…!

And at the feast and by her course
No man—save, Sir Gawain dared
And from the distance, men-in-arms
Stood their ground, and starred.

Florencia made a hard stand;
And all knew of her charms,
She held her knight, rigid tight,
The Green Knight in her arms.

Soon to counsel the bitter stood,
Florencia and knight to knight;
Who bade Florencia to follow him?
Gawain’s valor rang!

With long faced anger, Gawain stood,
Then with sword in hand he struck
(Face to face, in a warrior’s stance):
The Green Knight, through and through!

There was lost hope in this dismay,
With slash and steel and words,
For his sword, like lard melted through
And killed Florencia, as well.



Note: here is the poetic version of the long version, which has 53-stanzas, and tells the story in full, of Florencia, Gawain, and the Green Knight’s romance, as told in “Sir Gawain, and the Ghost of the Green Knight.” This shorter poetic version was written on the Platform, 7-9-2007, No: 1901




How do Die in Old Age

Shunned from the world’s eyes
Like birds in a flock—who
No longer have a voice, nor
Can talk—:
To cities they come and side streets
They go, one by one, to die!
(Down from the mountains
Out from the valleys
One by one,
Their pain etched in their faces…
And eyes wrinkled, telling
Of their impending fate,
Ostracized from society,
They beg, lay in wait,--
For death,
And it comes;
Then they are gone!

No: 1894 7-5-2007

Commentary: life is not always fair is it, and so many people are thrown into old folk’s homes, places of care, out of sight and mind of their loved ones, without a morsel of dignity. This is going on every place you can think of nowadays, in the USA, as well as Peru and other places. The cities are being crowed in third world countries because of this phenomenon, where at one time the strong in the family, the children in particular, took care of the weak, feeble, and frail old folks, not so anymore. The new philosophy is: ‘…we got to go live, they lived their lives.´ (I call it wisdom lost.) Young folks think all the wisdom is in knowledge and they are so wrong, it is in life itself, living it, deep inside those old wrinkles (my mother lived with me her last several years, and I would not trade her wisdom, and calmness for all the money on earth). Anybody can read a book (flying to the moon is not so difficult, it was done 35-years ago, so what, what have we got out of it, besides a big tax bill?), but not so many can raise a family; not everyone is equipped psychosocially to handle a family. Once compassion is lost, coldness rules, and you can expect it to circle your way in a matter of time, and that time comes pretty quick.

Dedicated to: Nelly N. for her work with old folks in Huancayo, Peru

“The Blood-Titans" From the Rhineland (The Green Knight and the Gladiators)

A Time of the Roman Republic


(200 BC to, 120 AD)


Preface and Background: When I think of Rome, I think of the whole world in those far off days, the Roman Republic, Trojan’s Column, built in 114 AD. The Great Coliseum (75-79AD, built), which holds 100,000 spectators. And Adrian’s Tomb, Nero, and Cicero, and the wars with Carthage; Sylla (88 BC) and the Caesar’s, Pompeii, and the Roman Forum; Tiberius, cruel and tyrannical (223 AD); Augustus Caesar, Emperor for 44-years; the Arch of Titus, Hannibal and his horde and the Green Knight (200 BC to 120 AD).


How it was in Rhineland


(Narrator) It was perhaps the brutish country the Green Knight had fought in yet, with the blond haired savages, primitive warriors. There was hundreds of them, whole tribes of them, and one Roman legend that marched on foot into this wolfs cage, and both sides fought heavily, the Romans with long beards, against these prime naked males, and their women fought like tigresses’ whom would sink their teeth deep into the feet, or arms of the Roman warrior, wherever possible.

The Green Knight was actually taller than these blond haired titans; he had great shoulders, muscles, and long and swelling mighty arms. The tall blond titans, as they were called, boomed across the mysterious nights, prowling into the valley’s and raided the camp of the Romans when possible, whom were outnumbered the Romans five to one, then raced back into the forest of trees, singing and dancing war songs. The Green Knight had never known such warriors as these before.

Bronze swords, singing like thunder, and (archery), arrows hissing, men dropping to their death daily; it was a slaughter in fury on both sides, blood soaked the earth in those far off days, and the Green Knight would remember those days until his last hour of life.


▼


The Poetic Sage Continues


The Circus Maximus

Titus Sulla
(Governor of Eboracum)

49


Titus Sulla
And the Gladiators


Titus Sulla was only answerable to the
Emperor of Rome, and he craved his games
in the Circus Maximus—and commanded the
Green Knight, to fight as a Gladiator there;
he was the pride of Rome, the peak of a warrior
of them all—and justly proud. But to perform,
for the sport of it, was beneath him, so he felt,
yet he would fight this one answerable day! He
felt like a trapped wolf, trapped in a cage.




The Trapped Wolf

50

The Green Knight came hauntingly out in his aspect—;
(bright military garb), his appearing skin texture was striking,
he wore complete green, even a green breast plate
with a long sword, and a short stabbing dagger at
his belt. Oh his head, a silver green helmet, with a
green shield and spear in each hand. The several
impassive solders in back of him, blond titans,
ghostly scared (the Mediterranean sun was basting
over the Circus Maximus): horror was stained on their
faces; next, he leaped at all seven, black fire came from
his sword, burning through flesh, like heated butter.
Cynically Sulla bowed to the Greet Gladiator.


The Might of the Green Knight


51

His lips writhed looking at his foe, his hands like
iron spikes, his raw fingers crunched human bones,
punished many a man with them, all victims—
his fists fell like hammers driving a man deeper
and deeper into submission, broken lips and
torn gums, lost teeth, the Green Knight fought
like a beast: his temples with swollen veins, anger
coming out of every pour, muscles knotted.

















(Narrator) The Green Knight now rested a moment under the Palestine Moon, two strangers seemingly lost from their camps, both Knights; a bonfire going, as if to welcome whomever: the Green Knight was hoping for a battle, he
still had not gotten over Florencia of Camelot, thus perhaps
displacing his anger for the loss, whom he still
blamed on Gawain now long dead.



The Green Knight:
‘Aye, more—! Young pine, young wine, more ‘T is strange!
I’ve had no love affair since Florencia! Perchance, I’ve seen
too much infidelity, hearts fall in heathendom.
Too, too much, way too much, for a life time!

Florencia being the exception, a woman’s tongue is
more dangerous than a python; and these women that
follow the camps, exchange their bodies for love…,

it’s all that can be for a wandering sword! No more!
So you boast to be a Knight, with a childless youth!’
(The Green Knight stops, shilly-shally, looks at the youth.)

“Soldas,” says the youth, and he sang a song:

Song of the Boy Knight ♫
‘ Sing…a song as the old moon wanes
To win, to win, the first born kiss
A kiss, a kiss, from a young princess
Find thee in a hidden place!
But who am I to tell thee…in the
Desert sands of Palestine!’

No: 1896





The Boy Knight:
‘You torment in the blood you pour—perhaps peacefulness
consumes you more, I have forgotten the darkness
of night, all loneliness parishes with love, for a wife…

sets above my soul, and soon I will be back with her…
in Rhineland—my home (where Saxtons still roam)!’


The Green Knight:
‘Yes, oh yes young prince, or piper, silence is monarch
in my heart, it holds the dead and me…too many aisles
in my mind to trod, I am dead, but I am not mute.

Yes, prince or pauper, or knight—whom ever you be,
mortals question of my name. Thou know’st not,
but here side by side you and me, a moment fads…

that will never be again, for evil is of its own—!’


Morning of the Next Day

And for what, and whither, in the morn, the boy knight
was gone, and the Green Knight looked about—the fire
heap was cold, the sphere was showing the sun.

.


Notes: ‘The Boy Knight,’ was written on 7-3-2007, revised and edited on 7-7-2007, and then put into the manuscript, ‘Sir Gawain, and the Ghost of the Green Knight.’

The Pang of Horrors and Moment of Death (The Green Knight's Dismay)

The Epic in Poetic Form

The Green Knight’s Dismay

The Moment of Death

Part one of two

A Pang of Horrors

32

What can I tell you of the movement Florencia Died?
perhaps this—there was a pang of horrors for both
Gawain and the Green Knight…:


33

Gawain at a second glance noticed the Green Knight’s
distorted features—he had seen such before, in the eyes
of men, men being squeezed to death by monster vipers,
and dragons: the Green Knight’s mouth gaped. His eyes
stared hideously inside of him, though he
couldn’t see, he had died of horror—at the thought
his beloved Florencia, would never breath or see light
again…. Silence and solitude lingered within.


34

Moonlight had over Camelot, it halted, froze; the
door to the castle stood empty…

35

The Green Knight felt numb, for his soul had froze—
hardened like a stone, yet it left a shadow of Florencia.
Gawain, oh yes, Gawain, shaken, not a sound broken
from his lips, nor fear. His forehead sweating, frowning!
Then came a frantic scream, without conscious thought,
whirling in his head, earth rushed to up to him,
black oblivion surrounded him…then!




Part Two of Two

The Final Destroyer

36

The Green Knight’s eyes closed, trying to get oriented
(a sensation of returning consciousness) and a glimpse
at the moon. “Florencia,” he said, the sight of her laying
in his arms: frail, and departed, he drew her closer, “no, I
didn’t kill you,” he pointed at Gawain—with red eyes
of flames. “I would have lowered the morning sky for
you, “ he murmured, and claimed, with a deep roar.
Inside his heart “Fire,” he moaned, “…is the final destroyer.”


37

(He was really saying, his heart was on fire, destroyed!”




Rigor Mortis
And
The King’s Physician

Parts one and two



Rigor Mortis



38

Rigor Mortis was already setting in, whence he
put his hand over her left breast, and felt her heart
still pumping. Even her flesh was already cold; thus
her heart hammered steadily, (Gawain, was now
carrying her into the main hall of Camelot,
though she was dead). No blood was carried through
her veins, yet her heart beat: like the Green Knight’s,
a pulse of flesh and spirit—; the king whispered, with
cold sweat on his brow: “This is too monstrous to ignore.”


39

The moon outside was covered with gray clouds,
only still stars to give light. Blood dripped on the
marble hard floors, of the hall (outside the owl
hooted,). Gawain slipped, dropped Florencia on
the floor, her body brittle, her heart like iron.
Perhaps she was close to immortality, or at
least, the nearest a human body could obtain.
Her soul had soared together with the Green Knight’s!



The King’s Physician



40

What now could be done? Silently the King’s
Physician stepped up to Florencia, told Gawain
to step away (and the King gave the order)) for
he was deep in shame, and bewilderment)).
Thus, he pulled away from her fathomless eyes,
as the physician—without a word—sliced open
the chest of Florencia (smoothly) pulling out
her heart, the crimson jewel of Camelot.
The heart now swelled and split open in response,
yet it throbbed mightily, in the process.

41

(And that was the last ever seen of Florencia,
her heart and the physician; but the Green Knight
would return in one year to put Gawain to a test….)



The End

"The Boy Knight" (Part of the Green Knight Series)

A Time of Chivalry:


“The Boy Knight”
(And Night over Palestine)

The Green Knight
And The First Crusades


(AD 1096)



Preface and Background: The Romans had left Britain about 426 AD, when the Picts and Scots invaded from the North. The Saxons being invite over to assist in expelling them gradually took possession of the country. This lasts to about 827 AD, when the Kingdom of England is formed by Egbert. Then came the Time of Chivalry, as it was recorded in history, existed between the 8th and 15th Centuries: the First Crusade starts in AD 1096, the Green Knight was there, so was the boy soldier (17-years old), the Feudal System was still in place, and would be for one-hundred more years. There was a code to this form of chivalry; each knight swore to be true to their trusts as the Champions of God, ladies. In actuality, the Green Knight received his Kinghood by King Canute in AD 1020 (the time of the Dane, Saxon, and Norman), In Bavaria (what is now West Germany), 1071 AD, Henry IV made Guelf (Duke), had a son who would fight in the First Crusades, He would be made Duke, or Guelf II, in 1101 AD, seven years after he would meet the Green Knight, the boy at that time would be twenty-four years old. Prior to this he attended the famous Cambridge University founded in 630 AD. There would be a perhaps a reason why the Green Knight did not kill the boy, as you will see in the story shortly, and since the story does not tell you why, I will now. It is because the Green Knight met Otho the Great of Germany (back in 915 AD), and had high respect for him, other than that, I do not know why myself.

There would be all together Eight Crusades, between 1096 AD to 1270 AD: 74-years of war!


Jerusalem was taken by Titus 70 AD, and razed to the ground, and more than one million Jews perished. It was taken by the Saracens, 637 AD and by the
Crusaders in 1099 and 70,000 infidels slain.
It was taken by Saladin of
Egypt 1187 AD and by the
Turks in 15116 AD.

The Mosque (known as The Dome of the Rock)
Was built by Omar, 637 AD,


1


Night over Palestine
Coeur de Lion


To the Crusades, in Palestine, Peter the Hermit
preached to 300,000 men, blessed by Uban II:
commanded by God and Godfrey, king—to go,
to take the land, and all of Jerusalem (1096 AD).

The Green Knight:
‘Do not squander, a soldiers breathe, King Richard the
Lion Heart is one of the Best, only honest light,
shines bright, on a champions face—Oh, yes, slander
tie your tongue, that I remain unassuming to your idiom!

Alas, enough, enough—you’ve had too much wine
maid, king, I do not care—whomever, nor for a riddle,
you are like Gawain, of Arthur’s time, a rhyme.’



(Narrator) The Green Knight now rested a moment under the Palestine Moon, two strangers seemingly lost from their camps, both Knights; a bonfire going, as if to welcome whomever: the Green Knight was hoping for a battle, he
still had not gotten over Florencia of Camelot, thus perhaps
displacing his anger for the loss, whom he still
blamed on Gawain now long dead.



The Green Knight:
‘Aye, more—! Young pine, young wine, more ‘T is strange!
I’ve had no love affair since Florencia! Perchance, I’ve seen
too much infidelity, hearts fall in heathendom.
Too, too much, way too much, for a life time!

Florencia being the exception, a woman’s tongue is
more dangerous than a python; and these women that
follow the camps, exchange their bodies for love…,

it’s all that can be for a wandering sword! No more!
So you boast to be a Knight, with a childless youth!’
(The Green Knight stops, shilly-shally, looks at the youth.)

“Soldas,” says the youth, and he sang a song:

Song of the Boy Knight ♫
‘ Sing…a song as the old moon wanes
To win, to win, the first born kiss
A kiss, a kiss, from a young princess
Find thee in a hidden place!
But who am I to tell thee…in the
Desert sands of Palestine!’

No: 1896





The Boy Knight:
‘You torment in the blood you pour—perhaps peacefulness
consumes you more, I have forgotten the darkness
of night, all loneliness parishes with love, for a wife…

sets above my soul, and soon I will be back with her…
in Rhineland—my home (where Saxtons still roam)!’


The Green Knight:
‘Yes, oh yes young prince, or piper, silence is monarch
in my heart, it holds the dead and me…too many aisles
in my mind to trod, I am dead, but I am not mute.

Yes, prince or pauper, or knight—whom ever you be,
mortals question of my name. Thou know’st not,
but here side by side you and me, a moment fads…

that will never be again, for evil is of its own—!’


Morning of the Next Day

And for what, and whither, in the morn, the boy knight
was gone, and the Green Knight looked about—the fire
heap was cold, the sphere was showing the sun.

.


Notes: ‘The Boy Knight,’ was written on 7-3-2007, revised and edited on 7-7-2007, and then put into the manuscript, ‘Sir Gawain, and the Ghost of the Green Knight.’

Sir Gawain and the Ghost of the Green Knight (A Poetic Epic/Drama)

Conte del Green Knight

Sir Gawain and the Ghost of the Green Knight

Two Dramatic, Epic Poems —by:

Copyright©2007 by Dennis L. Siluk

Sir Gawain and the Ghost of the Green Knight

Dedicated to Brynna Siluk

Prelude to the Green Knight: “Sir Gawain and the Ghost of the Green Knight,” is a unique tale of romance, tragedy, in the Dark Ages, taking place at Camelot. It is a dramatic Epic poem, done in three styles: narration for explanation, poetic verse for emotions and rhythm, and dramatics for dialogue. It is out of the ordinary, for it involves a sage that starts in Atlantis, and blends into Troy, Rome and onto England. The Green Knight is the main character in this tale, as Florencia and Gawain, become supporting actors, sort of. The quest is not a quest, until the Green Knight meets Florencia at her birthday party, the King, King Arthur is giving for his niece. Gawain, is her protector, and the King’s right hand man. The ending is potent, and will live on within the hearts of those who love such romance and adventures of Medieval Europe.
▼
Dramatis Personnel (Or Characters of the Story)
The Green Knight—spirit and Flesh Florencia—Niece to King Arthur Sir Gawain—King Arthur’s beloved Knight Flu—the Boy Soldier Phrygian—King OF Atlantis Ais—Queen of Atlantis Queen Guinevere—of Camelot Agaliarept, the Henchman of Hell The Ten-winged Dark Seraph
An Epic in Poetic Form Impression:
A Tale of the Green Knight
1
We come now to the grand story of the Green Knight (or at least one of his life long adventures; and origins), for I sense there were scores of, spirits and flesh that made the Green Knight what he was, and I do hope I can tell the tale as it truly was.
Let me say, his fame started shortly after his name was changed to the Green Knight
—prior to his legendary plight with King Arthur; hence, then called Bercilak de Hautesert.
In the times of King Arthur, two stories emerged of the Green Knight, thereafter a third tale emerged placing him in the Crusades, and becoming respected by the notorious Saladin the Great, (Muslim leader of his day), and marrying
a peasant woman from Glastonbury.
2 Much of the Green Knight’s story and glory is in being a warrior, and from the forth to twelfth centuries one can see this plainly. And as we look deeper into his surroundings, he is interwoven with Celtic Mythology, and maybe with a touch of modern day Anglo-French: with a background in Arthurian legend, where it was incorporated with the “Conte del Graal,”
For the Green Knight carried a Danish Axe did he not? And he was beheaded was he not? And he lived thereafter, did he not? And his skin, horse and all his garments were of a ghostly green, were they not?
3
I take it he may have been married between one to three times, that is, depending on whose tales one needs to read and wishes to believe, for they date back prior to the Fourteenth Century, AD
Both King Arthur and the Green Knight are confusing figures to say the least, perhaps both of British-Roman origins, so it would seem, so it must be. As well as, Camelot, the castle of controversial issues; likewise, the Round Table, which it is said, still exists. I actually went to Glastonbury and visited King Arthur’s grave, if indeed it was his grave. I do believe we must have a lot of faith in these fables, and there is a tinge of testimony for King Arthur and the Green Knight’s existence. And so now we shall go onto the next stage of this story.
The Green Knight Recounted
The Crusades of Asia
12th Century
4
So you see we have had a figure of a huge knight, a symbol of bravery also—and of a ghostly persona. One who lives and dies and lives again, and seems to reach beyond his original roots, and comes to life in the fifth century England, and resurfaces in the 12th century Crusades. But I have found out it goes much deeper than that. And he was more than what he says. Let me explain: he was I do deem, a tester of the Knight’s, of their times, as Arthurian text would put it, and perhaps J.R.R. Tolkien, in the case of Syr. Gawayne, and his translation (1925): and other translators of the tales of the Green Knight, such as Jessie L. Western, and W.A. Neilson, all quite skillful in their versions (1999). And for the most part these paraphrases are well needed, practical, in modern English from Middle English, which has produced a readable medieval past, in fiction.
5
Now we must really touch on the Ghost of the Green Knight before we get into the really story, which is, in its end form, “The Monologue of Florencia.”
I dare say, but I will, if a man can seize his head in his hands, after decapitation (as it was done by Sir. Gawain) he is nothing less than a ghost, and perhaps a little more. And then, talk to his decapitator. What kind of man can stand before another and do that, with green skin to his bones. And so in this case we eliminate all the possibilities and get right down to the facts, he is more than he seems, and for a good reason, and I shall tell you that story for posterity sake in a moment.
6
Sir Gawain beheaded the Green Knight, by allowing him to take the first swing with an axe, but in return, he would have to meet the Green Knight again, and let him have his turn. Quite a test for a night is it not. And would Gawain be true to his honor? These of course were the testing tools of the Green Knight. And is not a reputation for a Knight above all other things that were perhaps the main matter in the back of the Green Knight’s mind.
7
Well, to indulge you a tinge more into this story’s past, told many times, but not like this…Gawain did return to the Chapel where the Green Knight was, one year later (for he had seen him prior to this, with Florencia), and now bowed his head to be cut off by none other than the Green Knight. But Gawain was no fool, he but a special metal strap around his neck to protect it, yet, he still get a wound, but he got to walk away with his head and nick firmly attached, and his honor intact.
Yes indeed, Gawain did a very shrewd thing. On the other hand, the Green Knight used his wit and wisdom to test the Knight’s integrity, almost devilish, almost likened to Satan himself who testing Christ on a Mountain top. But then the Green Knight, he believed I suppose, as Mark Twain once said: “A virtue is not a virtue until tested under fire.”
8
So now I will tell you with all sincerity, I believe this next story, sketch or call it tale, as much as I believe all the other tales of the Green Knight: this one although needs your undivided attention, and it is not like the others, a medieval romance, rather it is beyond that.
The Story From its Original Roots
King of Atlantis 10,666 BC
9
When Atlantis fell (sunk into the Atlantic)) 9600 BC)) about four-hundred years before King Phrygian, of Atlantis, whom lived in the palace at the Port of Poseidonia, had printed a journal— one of treachery with the demonic Netherworld (Hell, itself). His kingdom was somewhat fashioned by the underworld you could say, perhaps that is why God Almighty, destroyed it. At that time the High Priest, Xandore was killed and possessed by the infamous figure, friend and foe, know in Hell, as Agaliarept, the Henchman. He was a brave beast in his own right, devious as such are, psychotic as any other demon, and renowned in the netherworld for his prowess in weaving Atlantis into its internal chaotic doom (or moral downfall). One night he slept with the King’s wife, Ais. Oh, not with his blessings—but by threat: hence, he crept into his bed, as the king moved over, and whom he had sedated her during dinner, thus, she slept soundless throughout the ordeal, as the Henchman, seduced her, hour after hour, in a lustful frenzy. Ais, not knowing much pertaining to what she had endured, and considered now a nightmare, only acknowledge, she had raw and aching thighs.
Agaliarept, the Henchman of Hell
10
The Deception
Shortly after the king was murdered in his garden, so the ancient scrolls have indicate—just how is uncertain—but the best I can piece it together is as follows: Phrygian some twenty-years older than the Queen, Queen Ais still quite young, were having lunch as often they did in the Garden of Poseidon, within their palace grounds by the seaport—there, hidden in the distance was a figure in the garden, hunched down behind some shrubbery; some have said it was the High Priest, and I do believe it to be, for he had the utmost motive, Ais—his lustful dream. But perhaps it could have been someone else, nonetheless, the king choked on food, as it was written down by Anases, the scribe: Anases whom was present in the palace during those far off days, and it was his duty to write down everything, whatever he witnessed, heard, or could verify—to be put onto scrolls (known as The Codex Scrolls).
11
In any case, what took place was that he either had a allergic reaction, or got a bone caught in between his windpipe or whatever, but he could not breathe, and died—died in a development, fighting for air; Ais being too afraid to leave his side, lest someone come and kill him with a dagger or sword—remained. And the wealth of the realm of course went to Ais.
12
In the underworld, in Hell itself, days are not normal days as on earth, nor are weeks, months or years. That is to say, days in Hell, can be months or years, depending on actions and reactions. Nights are long, so I’ve heard, and like in Heaven or in any Army on earth, there is a hierarchy— in hell, there is a pecking order, I say this because I do not know the time period in my next paragraph, but it was not years, rather days, weeks or months, I tend to think it was perhaps twenty-months, earth time, a few days or hours, Hell time.
13
Anyhow, in time, Ais was confronted by her dead husband to join her in Hell, saying in so many words: if you join me, Beelzebub, the King of Demons promised me a high position (the forth in command). Her love and devotion for him was unconditional, and she followed him to the innards of Hell, but while in the waters of Hades, Hell’s river of sorts, he pushed Otis, the row man
over the edge of the vessel and as legend says,
they sailed around the gulf for 1000-years
(before he was caught).
13
Now you might be saying: what does all this have to
do with the Green Knight? A lot, but first we have to
shift back to the sinking of Atlantis. Ais had a child,
a hybrid (a crossbreed), a giant of a soul, one third
man, two thirds superhuman. His skin was pale
and the older he got, greener. Agaliarept, took the
matter of the child birth more serious, he was proud,
almost, and at time he was, boastful, he considered him his son, and in time to be the leader of the Archkingdom of Atlantis, Bercilak, escaped the
upheavals of 9600 BC, then what took place was this:
the human residue of Atlantis escaped to its satellite
countries, the isles of England, Crete, and inland,
Egypt and Troy. At this time, the Mound known as the Tor
had already existed for some thirty-thousand years,
next to Glastonbury, England, where King Arthur
would be buried.
The Tor of Avalon I Glastonbury AD 450
The Agreement and the Ten-winged Dark Seraph
The Ten-winged Dark Seraph
14
Agaliarept, was called back to Hell’s area, by the Ten-winged Creature, the Dark Seraph of doom, whom was superior in authority to Beelzebub; Agaliarept was reluctant, and so he asked for a pact, and it was granted; it was that his son be given life… to the closing stages of living time—accordingly, he would return to the Great Walls of Hell, without protest. It was strife and sadness that overtook him. But sealed in black blood, it was unforgiving should he break the bound. (And so it was that he becomes ghost and flesh, as one.)
15
Hence, he would join in a long series of wars, the Green Knight, as he would be know in due time—: first he fought at Kish, for Gilgamesh; next, at the great siege of Troy, for Paris, prudently; with the Greeks, 400 BC, at Athens; and under the banner of Rome, during the republic, and for Pompey, until he lost his way, and life; and even the Inca Kings of Peru, prior to Atahualpa.
It was the fifty century AD, although, when his name would preced him, as flesh and spirit, in the British Isles. At this time, King Arthur and his renowned Knights sparked an interest in his life, especially, Syr Gawayne; like he, Arthur and Gawayne, were marvels in battle.
Interlude
16
(Narrator)
Now my just reader, you must listen closely, and I will tell it as it was told to me, and it is fixed truth, linked to a scroll of a scribe and seer, long before Arthur, for he saw it all in the dark magical waters in his den (and then, it came to pass, unwritten until now.)


▼
17
The Dialogues
The Great Hall of Camelot The Dark Ages (AD 400-800)
The Dialogue of Florencia and the Green Knight 1
Twilight-time in the Great Hall of the mediaeval castle; Men-at arms stand idly here and there…
One of them holds up a cup of wine, his name is Gawain, as if to give it to a young lovely lady, her name is Florencia. She is about to walk away, she senses something, a being besides Gawain….!
Gawain: “I beg you, take this wine, it is good. “
Florencia: “t is good for sleep, and I am not yet ready!”
Then a green mist starts to show, unwittingly the blade of Gawain slowly comes of out his sheath:
Florencia: “Pardon my unbelief, Great Knight of the Round Table, go pour me a fresh drink, my thirst is great, For England’s dust lingers in my throat….”
GK: “‘T is well. Wine’s a decent craze!” said a voice lingering within the mist.” …to your sweet face, dear lady, and your warm heart I will let Gawain live for to draw a sword, or to nearly do is to knew the fight has started, it was wise to have him flee, I would cast him, as the shout of my voice raised into groans.!
Florencia: “Ah, pardon me! Forgive me mighty sire! For are you the Green Knight, the one whom only the bravest have see, the one and only Coeur de Lion?
GK: “I waist a Knights breath on one who insults me, I give you honesty, go braid your mouth, O slanderers lady!”
Florencia: “And this I swear by all my heart, Behold, a portion of me already belongs to you, long since upon my birth I have wanted the greatest of trees, not the twig! My birthday is today, I am nineteen, and it is not strange at all of me, once bereaved, for my father was the greatest of knights, and I can not wed a lower,”
Green Knight (with a murmur): “You put it utterly to the point, my fair lady! You are an eagle, and I accept your apology. If that indeed is what it is.”
Florencia: “I sense your blood is as green as your mist my lord, I know none such of your kind—cold as a church-bells iron, and warm as a heaths feast in winter-time! My soul now breaths like flowers’ tryst…!”
GK: “A curse is to the one that harms you, be it me, or any soul or demon who would allure you! “
Florencia: “You are admirable, but tell me more, about the lion and the fable behind you, he champion, has he not seen the wars, is there no peer, can I have consolation in his love, or must I fear. I hear I could never loose him on the battle field, ere; would it be sire and wife, or husband and wife? I am put a young pine that stands too close to grand parent tree…is this not ill for each? Have you a gentle heart?
GK: “And suppose I had…for I am filled sick of rootless wandering the world from age to age, I now look upon you. Begone! Or if you stay, it may be, I take you in haste with burning hands, love is here, long waited, so begone or if you stay as the troubadour sings, when he stops you will be mine.”
(And it was that the king’s minstrels started to sing and play their instruments thereafter.)
18
The Dialogue of Florencia and the Sir Gawain 2
The Great Hall of Camelot Gawain Returns
Florencia moved by a grand-pillar of the Castle. Gawain, the Favorite Knight of legend and lore, Approaches her, walks to her,
face to face, tote to toe, with her cup of wine,
she is the youth of spring flowers; it is now the last of twilight.
The hue of the mist enfolded Florence’s arms around her breasts; she almost slept as if mixed in a bottle full of love position,
Gawain (in a stupor :) “I sorrow for thy lady—such a hue on your face, I have slain others for beguiling blossoms of my heart…who it is in this room you fancy, who stops thy timid heart: forget the darkness that covers twilit, and the silence of our moment, I am your refuge in this peopled hall.
Florencia (in a toxic mood.): “She lives, yes for another man, like a horizon, ready to be gathered, ready to rise, and perhaps perish, but in peace.”
Gawain: “You will have your peace in tomb’s blackness, which gives peacelessness to such a foolish flame inside a young woman’s heart, I shall quench the fire, let me know who the mighty gem is, and your secret will remain with me, and I will bring him death.
19
The Dialogue of Florencia and the Sir Gawain 3
The mist reaper—a shape develops, slightly, Gawain, Pulls his sword, Florencia holds her breath As if to say, ‘What now!’
The blade touches the shoulder of the Green Knight Not quite fully visible yet, His sword Disincarnates into Fragments…
Gawain: “For all kings have yearned for such a knight that we be spirit and flesh, and hid in its mist—subdue me if you can, host of constrain!
GK: I have broken your strength, keep from my doom—lest your flesh vanish, like fire quenched.” (A long Silence.)
GK: “Come now Florencia, speedily, night falls over Camelot, like a black star. Thy price thou know’st lady, when the minstrel stops I shall go—speak now or speak nevermore of this. ‘Pain and love rules me of this moment—who dares to pay my price—not flesh, not any; yet if they could they would take my life,—but no knights or kings can conquer it. Only you can subdue me, life is either an exploration or naught.”
20
Florencia Most Honored
Florencia moves closer into the mist, as he now transform into a clearer picture of who he is in the flesh. Gawain turns and disappears into the crowd, he realizes he cannot blow out the torch inside Florencia’s heart, and the Green Knight has acted within the code of the Knights, he cannot take death, he is bound to his fate, his lot in life, and there, he does not take advantage of his superiority, as he has allowed Gawain, to stand firm with chivalry, But neither will he allow him or anyone to put his love for Florencia in jeopardy.
21
Florencia notices many lords and knights now at the long tables, bright banners are brought up to the tables where the feast is to take place, the music continues to play, meat and vegetables, breads and plates are now put onto the table, soups are being carried out…
22
GK: “In this mysterious light, that reflects throughout the hall, thou art so strangely beautiful, you consume me! Temptation transcends me, as if I am put into a new world. Do not be surprised—loveliness, forsake this world, and come into mine—deny, abjure this life; for we shall see disastrous days but perish I shall not, and therefore, you do not have to worry: I am the price, and be it what it may.”
Florencia: “All men of flesh are mad, alas! What road is left for a woman of flesh, a pearl today I maybe, but when I am old, then what?”
GK: “We shall dim the winter lamp, when the time comes.”
Florencia: How then shall I win thy kiss…?
GK: “Thou soon shall see me fully in flesh, for you will see my age shall mock thy youth. Brig then our lips—like gems to mine.”
23
Florencia: Thou does amuse me, my lord!” then looking into his configuration, and eyes, continued by saying: “You are wiser than most men I have known…wiser than those who have questioned you I would guess, and you have cheated years for days. And you see my eyes gleam for thee, lit with the light of some mysterious love.”
GK: “For what the god’s desire, I have thrown away, until now. And the gods are smile the power fools take to be looked upon as gods. You will be my citadel, I will be your storm, and duty, love and reason will guide us.”
24
The Green Knight Philosophizes
GK: “Perhaps the brave dead are braver than the brave living…for I have seen traitors spawn (what need be) for treasures, sacred or not, out of self-interest. I have fought and found the battles I fight for others are all in vain.
“In a moments time the music will stop, and you will touch my fleshly lips with your gems, burn for me in this last moment! I promise once in mine arms, thou shall receive the joy of ten-thousand years, and all the love I have saved.”
25
(The music stops. And in the Green Knights mind, he whispers ‘Betray me now, or go forward. Nay, I shall not try to win her twice.’
Gawain is in the distance, by the tables of food, staring over at Florencia, he is unsure of her fate. He keeps touching his sword, as if he is trying to talk himself into something.)
Continuation of: The Epic in Poetic Form
Guinevere’s Arrival
26
Yester eve had arrived, merriment was at hand, Queen Guinevere showed her presence at the party Of King Arthur’s niece; there was a levier lady than she, and she notice her, Florencia, and the uninvited guest, the Green knight was standing near a pillar, now clear as day, they had kissed, it pleased the Green Knight to become visible; ere, this lovely lady walked slowly towards the doors, her hand his.
The king looked at them both, she was of royalty, and her ancestors were like King Arthur, Roman decent. She was the daughter of Loth, the niece of King Arthur. 27
They walked, sensing the eyes of Gawain following them: as well as Guinevere’s eyes, and the Kings; Bishop Baldwin was present and fifty trumpets sounded, and the king sat at down at the head of the table, and Gawain left, disappeared into the darkness.
It was the noblest of feasts—yet Florencia would not turn back to join the Knights, and King, she was centered on the Green Knight, followed him proudly to the high arched doors of the castle.
(In the background there was much beer and amounts of food, but she would not eat, or drink with her kind, her stomach was in a romantic frenzy, her skin like goose skin, her heart pumping wildly.)
Florencia’s Youth
27
(Narrator :) Now of this feast I will say little to nothing more—for I am sure this is not to your liking, such details can be boring. But noise came, a voice, then Florencia drew near to it, and she could hear his heart breathing,
she could actually hear it over the music, the drums and pipes within the Great Hall. She could not leave him, thus
she allowed all to pass her (this youthful beauty of nineteen).
All the garments of the Green Knight were Green, a fine robe of green, that covered his shoulders; he, himself was finely trimmed, handsome, and with thick locks of hair. His horse was green, a stallion.
As many looked on towards these two figures, they knew who this noble knight was, his reputation
preceded him. Gladness filled the eyes of Florencia as grief filled the king’s.
28 Guinevere’s Monologue
Brave and bold he stood, the Green Knight, as young knights came to and fro, unsure of what to do as the now the Green Knight was completely visible in the flesh. All could see him escorting Florencia towards the doors. Sir Gawain moved slowly and Guinevere was most happy, said:
“The Green Knight is the finest soldier of us all, adored by many, throughout the ages, if indeed Florencia wished to leave with him—unless there be some good reason: lords, ladies, and knights.”
And the soldiers let him pass without a movement; the king was not as happy, nor as courteous as Guinevere did not contradict his wife.
So by the look of the king, and vice of the Queen, did all abide, and stood not in their way.
“Go your way in bliss, abode together and what ever life you find, may you enjoy it,” said Guinevere, and then sat down at the long table. But Gawain was not pleased.
29
The Dialogues
Outside the Halls of Camelot
The Dialogue of Florencia, Gawain, and the Green Knight 4
The Sorrows
Gawain: “Thou shall come with me to the feast, for what remains of the night!”
(There is no music, and both the Green Knight and Florencia stand outside by the castle door now, and below them, the many steps, that lead into the front court yard. Gawain has met them there.)
GK: “Trouble thee not thy heart Florencia! Come closer to me, cast thy arms sound me, for I love thee.”
Gawain: “Surely you have said that to many—blind you are Florencia, sweet flow’rs of youth, do not give them to a ghost, he has sorcery to bind your heart!”
30
(Then Gawain pulls out his sword and with a downward thrust, slices open the Green Knight like a watermelon, it is deep, the sword descends through him like butter, and through his back, and into mid section of Florencia, and into her internal organs. She will bleed to death soon, and she knows it. The Ghost of the Green Knight seals his would, within seconds, as if it were a scratch, and as fast as a whirlwind, he pulls his sword, towers over Gawain, and is ready to slice through him from head to toe, at which time, the dying Florencia speaks, “And on your tongue rests revenge and death, my love, slay not Gawain, no, it is not for him to die, and for you to hate and horror be place in your heart, let me die in your arms at peace, and spare my once protector…”))and so it was!))
31
The Grieving of Gawain
Gawain lifts his body up to a straight posture out of a fighting stance—the Green Knight now kneels beside his Florencia, taking a last and final kiss, then she falls backwards in death.
Gawain: “I have slain my king’s niece, and soon will cast myself against my own sword—for I have cheated her out of life, and the world of her beauty, I will stand soon before the sightless dead.”
(The Green Knights body was warm, and so still was hers, and as she lay into his arms, the mist around him opened up her pours, and it seeped into her…)
GK: “O fool thou, has gained nothing from this, and from two kisses I have gained much. Thy sword shall not obtain thee peace by death. I shall return in a year, gather thy strength, for thou shall need it all! I will have a proposition for thee!”
(The Green knight Whispers: ‘No matter what, today has made beautiful my past, and I shall remember it until my last hour!’)
The green knight vanished among he great castle’s towers, and Gawain carries Florencia into the Great Hall of Camelot, and one can hear the echoes of a Great Knight moaning…!


The End


Notes on the writing of the story: “Sir Gawain, and the Ghost of the Green Knight.” It was written at Mini and Sophie’s house in Huancayo, Peru: the outline written out in the afternoons sitting on Sophie’s patio, in the sun, in the month of June, 2007. The overview, or chapter one thru eight, the whole story here, was written out that one afternoon, 6-30-2007. Chapter nine, “The Grieving of Gawain,” was written out 7-2-2007, along with three parts not put into this story, called, “The Boy Soldier,” which entailed the Green Knight meeting of a solider during the Crusades, and the boy (Flu) talks briefly on the love of a woman, and in the morning the boy is gone. In essence, youth has its wisdom, even though at times it seems clumsy. It was a sketch that was not needed, also written the second of July. This story has done quite well on the Internet a day after it was written completed. The poetic form and dialogue was done in a specific way, along with the narration.
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