Iron Poet, Round XIII.

[cadhla]

Welcome to the latest round of Iron Poet, the game where you give me three words and I give you a poem. This is an adaptation of a standard writer's workshop activity, and I do not claim the original concept. I just claim to enjoy doing it

Comments

[cadhla]

"It was his kindness called me, and not his teeth," she said
As she stood before the bailiff, with a price upon her head,
And the men behind her glared at her, and each one wished her dead
For she'd left the path, and that was not allowed.

"He was elegant and handsome, with his whiskers and his paws,
And I did not care for lectures, and I did not care for laws,
And I cast my hood aside and I went willing to his jaws;
Yes, I left the path, and yes, I am still proud.

"For you'd make of me a harlot who would choose a wolf instead
Of a village man who tells me I belong inside his bed,
Is it such a crime to want for steak when I am offered bread?
When I left the path, I left went with head unbowed."

They have met and they have spoken many hours upon her fate,
There are those who called for hanging, those who said it was too late...
But the order was for exile, and they walked her to the gate,
Said, "You left the path. The woods will be your shroud."

And she laughed as she was exiled, to the forest and the night,
She went running through the greenwood to a wolf with teeth of white,
Her grandmother watched her reach him, and she smiled at the sight.
She had left the path for more than was allowed.

[apocalypticbob]

I adore it! Thank you so very much!