Jean-Léon Gérôme (1824–1904)         ~      Duel After a Masquerade Ball
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Duels and Meanings
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The fool's heart bleeds by the foil!
And, here, the mourning has just begun,
For the wound is deeper than his soul...
A soul as resplendent as the sun ~
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Alas, poor lad!... My heart is wrung,
And resounds like a bell of mourning,
For there is no one as fair as a fool,
And none so fair as he this morning.
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I, that bore his arms on the field,
Must bear him thus, by his arm, as he fall.
I am now as fallen as his own mantle,
For I fear I shall be bearing his pall.
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Words and weapons, all the same...
His offense was to the core!
And must not honour be upheld?
... For that is what duels are for!
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I regret this deed I've done,
Over words that now seem so less dear,
I curse the steel and the customs,
That stole all honour here.
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I am foiled... I am undone...
Take these last words to my Columbine:
'I have loved thee to the last drop
Of this wounded heart of mine.'
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~Mustafa Demiri



















Comments: 33
Thank you for sharing and submitting to
The Surreal Circus.
Absolutely brilliant, Mustafa.
I seldom deal in tragedy,
But a feeling had come over me.
there is something in human plight,
That causes the lanterns of our souls
To burn just a little more bright.
... It seems that we must meet the darkness,
with something brave and bright.
Thank you, my brilliant friend,
Salud, Felicidad, and Goodnight.
Thank you for posting your work here at Gather's Luminous Writers and Artists. Now Featured.
I never tire of reading your offerings and am always grateful that you've shared with us.
To be compared to the poets of antiquity,,
A wreath of laurels I would wear
With all due dignity.
Your head because of how you pressed
Words into forms and lines aglee
When you were crowned Mindful Poetry's
Poet Laureate
In two months' time, we'll start anew
I'll prompt and prod with tiny clue
My Mindful members will endeavor
To think up something super clever
At any rate
To join in and participate,
Under April's moon... until the wee hours late
And until will crown a new laureate...
From Atticus, to myself, to the wonderful John Beck
This esteemed honour did go.
But for me the greatest honour has been
All the wonderful poets I've gotten to know.
But our squirrely verse does beckon
By April's end, the winning cup
Will be bestowed, I reckon
Good night, Sir Fox!
Thanks for sharing with Gather's Luminous Writers and Artists. Featured and tweeted.
Thanks for everything, you are a wonderful friend.
A deep bow to you, Sir.