Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2011

Sir Ade of the Glade

by Anna Whitehouse

 
 
                        Our tale begins with a jug full of mead,
                        and a rosy-cheeked knight on a handsome white steed.
                        As Sir Ade drank his fill by a bubbling stream,
                        the silence was pierced by a long high-pitched scream.
                        "I must ride with great swiftness and rescue this wench,”
                        said Sir Ade of the Glade, as his sword he did clench.
                        He discovered a villain who brandished a dagger,
                        and advanced ‘pon a maiden with confident swagger.
                        But all of a sudden, with strange grunting noise,
                        the maid did assume an unnatural poise.
                        Her dainty fists whirled and her hands chopped the air,
                        the open-mouthed villain  could do nought but stare.
                        The maid spied our hero beside his white steed,
                        “Good Sir” she said, “May I please drink of thy mead?”
                        As the maid did advance Sir Ade’s eyebrows arose,
                        for she wore a man’s tunic and sported brown hose.
                        Yet he was transfixed by her eyes of deep brown,
                        ‘twas of no real concern that she wore not a gown.
                        “Good knight” said the maiden, “for what do you wait?
                        I’m in need of a ride and I’m already late!”
                        As they rode, Sir Ade wondered for what she was late,
                        perhaps a romance with a knightly hot date;
                        With a broad shouldered fellow, a rich handsome knight,
                        a champion jouster, who won every fight!
                        As passion consumed Sir Ade’s jealous heart,
                        it seemed fickle cupid had shot a true dart.
                        He fell to his knees, his voice ardent, but gentle,
                        ‘twas most unlike Ade to become sentimental!
                        Lady Rebecca took her suitor to court,
                        where they learnt courtly dances and played lots of sport.
                        Ade found that his love was a lady of zest,
                        who enjoyed a good romp and did not like to rest.
                        And now, we return to that quiet wooded glade,
                        with but a few friends and a gleeful Sir Ade.
                        He stood for a moment and savoured the peace,
                        knowing, once wed, all such quietness would cease.
                        As the bride came towards them, the onlookers froze,
                        as this vision of beauty wore not her brown hose!
                        Sir Ade turned and gasped with both pleasure and shock,
                        for Lady Rebecca wore a white wedding frock.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Added: 27.04.2011

Judges' comments on this poem

17.05.2011

real nice poem love your choice of words and the way you exspress them xxx

22.05.2011

good story told in beautiful lines

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