Rapunzel

Today Miz Quickly asked us to link an image (below) with a fairy tale.

Morning leaked slow, a peach juice ooze
on flagged floor and basin grim.
Its warming fingers sneaking, slinking
found her cheeks as if in fun

but even beauty, she'd learned
is fickle company and she batted
tiredly the light from her shrinking
eyes,  rolled away and bade it:

"No tomorrow is my friend. 
I have seen a million dawns
and none have kept their
wispy, pastel-assed promises."

But even so the light expanded
picking gold from the vast
coil of hair beside the bed
and tricking dark corners into smiles.

"Today's the day" a spider whispered
her silken tones presaging
Wilbur's coming.  "Today's the day
you will be freed.  Mark my web."

Rapunzel rose at last as her 
breakfast tray slid anonymously
beneath the oaken door, its rotted
splinters adding the final pepper.

Before eating she went to wash
her face and saw, in basin water's
reflection a message in spider silk
"Reflections are your friend."

Just then a faint "Ahoy!"
flickered up through the ghastly
maw her captor called a window.
Her natural world reduced

to a colourful tonsil in the gape
of that dim, stone throat.
"Ahoy!" the bidding came again.
She leaned over far to see

a figure below, clad in floral
jacket and a fine purple hat.
"Who are you?" Rapunzel cried
her disappointed tear falling

on the hat and causing a
tiny nasturtium to bloom against
the royal tones.  "I'm Mary, luv.
Come to rescue you.  But luv,

you've got to let your hair down
a bit, else no scones for you."
Rapunzel sighed, knowing full
well the heavy plait never grew enough.

She watched below, this latest
rescue bid, her first to offer morning tea
instead of diamond rings.  
Mary produced a small saucepan

from her pocket.  She dipped it
in the nearby brook.  Rapunzel
saw the morning  light shimmer
in saucepans wake and could even

hear the brook's excited giggle.
"Are you going to boil an egg?"
Rapunzel's tired voice was reedy
on the slightly chortled breeze.

Mary placed the saucepan 
by the castle wall right beneath
the plait's too short length.
Rapunzel gasped as the length

filled the pot and seemed 
in wavering water's silver
to climb the whole wall.
Mary calmly drew the reflection

out - a dripping rope of
starburst silvers and plaited gilt.
She tossed it,  easy as a
graduation hat and Rapunzel

found it in her hand like that.
"The bed luv.  Tie it to the bed!"
Soon Rapunzel had shimmied
down,  feet on soft earth,

head feeling warm sun.
She sank to the ground and
rolled about in laughing frissons
her fingers digging the soil

her cheeks caressing the grass.
Mary let her roll,  a smile on
her sweet, plump face.  "Now, luv,
we must be off.  Scones in the oven

an' all."  Rapunzel smiled, her
duck egg eyes, at last remembering
gratitude.   "How did you know?"
Mary shrugged and said "T'was

the goldfish told me.  There was
I,  doing my hair by pond's 
reflection and it said (first
time it's ever spoke) it said

'Better uses for reflections
than this pastel-assed primping.
Go save a princess with your
smallest saucepan.'  So I did.

Can't ignore a talking goldfish."

Image from Miz Quickly

44 thoughts on “Rapunzel

  1. what a terrific piece; you put a lot into this tale, Worms, keeping us entertained along the way; I admire the pacing and the poetry: some great lines — you can’t go past, ‘pastel-assed primping’ though I take my hat off to’ light … tricking dark corners into smiles’ πŸ™‚ Bob’s going to love this one πŸ™‚

    Liked by 2 people

  2. This is hilarious and brilliant, Worms!! πŸ˜€ My favourite bits are the whole of the first stanza and the lines:

    “”Today’s the day” a spider whispered”

    “its rotted splinters adding the final pepper.”

    “Her natural world reduced
    to a colourful tonsil in the gape
    of that dim, stone throat.” – love this image!

    “let your hair down
    a bit, else no scones for you.” πŸ˜€

    “Can’t ignore a talking goldfish.”

    Adore! ❀

    Liked by 1 person

  3. The “fairy” in the “tale” is a gossamer, weaving an insubstantial delight, that which cannot be true but is .. So much liberty and abandon with that stuff here. A post-pastel-assed joy.

    Liked by 1 person

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