Catching Light

A friend has kindly allowed me to share this poem she has written on the theme of light. Have a read and let me know your thoughts.


Paul

After the eclipse, the king decrees
that whoever brings him rays of light
will receive the hand of his youngest daughter.
Subjects try, but let's skip to three brothers.


The first draws papers from a box inlaid with gold
proving that the speed of light through glass
is the refractive index n of the material.
The king says, oh my head, my head!


The second lifts a photo from his silver casket,
which displays, against ferocious blue,
a line of raindrops clinging to the royal oak.
Very pretty, yes. What use is that?


The third opens the casket made of lead:
two pitted stones, one powdery moth.
Sorry I thought..The princess laughs
for the first time since the decree. The king does not.


Daybreak. Light glides across the capital's slate roofs.
The sun cuts busily between the curtains
of the king's bedroom. He huffs and turns,
dragging the queen's share of the quilt with him.


Meanwhile, the daughter staggers home
along a towpath, arm in arm with the third brother
Look! He says. Bright as a flare, a kingfisher
dives into the canal. The princess shields her eyes.


(c) Carol Beadle 14.10.11.

A poem

This is a picture I took when I was on holiday a couple of years ago, I like pebbles, the feel and the sensation and weight in my hand.:

Pebble in my hand
Worn smooth by the waves
Rough edges knocked off by other stones
Washed up on the shore
Unique

In your hand
Worn smooth by life
Rough edges knocked off by others
Washed up on my knees
Loved