The Saddest Fairy Tale

A

beautiful

Princess

hunted

down.

 

Only,

for a picture.

 

One day,

mortally wounded,

and killed,

undertaking,

evasion

of a pursuit.

 

An

imported,

Pablo Escobar

designed,

cocaine cartel

hitman,

motorcyle-pilot

on

a thirteen

hundred

cc,

super-sports

street-

bike

streak.

Unwelcome UFO,

ridden,

as a gyroscope,

in space.

 

Assassin

camera man,

sitting

back to back,

keeping pace,

equal to,

and often, greater,

than that

of the armoured carriage

in which
the Princess

held on,

camera lens,

cash dollar,

fist pump,

penetrating

light cloud

flashes,

up,

and again,

into

smoky

windows.

 

White energy,

expended,

upon impact.

 

Bulbs,

of tear-

inducing,

knotted,

rotten,

onion rope flashes.

 

Timed,

to later explode,

on

every

street’s

recycling

center,

magazine

paper

mound,

upon

the

Earth.

 

The sons

of the Princess,

many, long

years later,

in memoriam

of their mother,

gave,

to the world

which had

so sought

to behold

the Princess,

as very close

as possible,

photographs,

which,

so sadly now,

these Princes

understood.

The freely given,

present of

photographs,

of

their mother.

Held by them,

since childhood,

as all,

they had,

left

now.

The teary irony,

of a photograph,

occupying the space,

where once,

she had been.

Previously, only

looked upon,

by them both, 

and those,

whom

they’d carefully,

and considerately,

chosen,

to entrust,

this memory,

to.

These unique

images,

of their loved,

lost,

and

long departed,

Princess

Mother.

 

Launched,

into a world,

so very full

of images,

such

as it was,

in their kingdom,

at that

time.

 

It would remain

impossible

for them both

not to suffer,

for at least

another,

as yet

undisclosed

length of time,

in the same manner

as did the father

of James Dean,

who outlived

his son,

by

decades,

unexpectedly,

to find

his child's face  

on T-shirts

and in framed,

cafe

night

scenes,

in thrift shops.

 

The Princes,

freely chose,

to lay their gifts,

before the eyes

of that, self

same

world,

that they,

one day,

were

to rule,

as

an offering,

reflecting.

A nobility,

that only

the sons

of a Princess,

could

have

ever

inherited.

Reviews

[Annette Pisano-Higley]

I bow to you sir. This is a touching, deeply moving tribute to Princess Diana and her sons. Poetically magnificent account of the scene and the aftermath of The World's Princess and her tragic death. Great minimalist form that adds to the impact of each word. The Princes' selflessness and suffering. They are indeed noble sons of a Princess mother. Thank you for this heart-felt work.

[Brett Hernan]

And I curtsy to you, Annette.
Thank you for explaining what this poem made you feel in response and your critical comments.
I appreciate the irony of this sorry tale and as the father of a nine year old son who has seven weeks ago lost his mother, the recent memorial of Lady Diana's death and her sons' majestic response to it all, struck me emotionally in a strong way.
Particularly, the motivation for this work was to highlight that act of giving, and to realise that this act symbolises a forgiveness of the public, whom it would have been for years, perhaps seemingly impossible for the princes not to blame for their mother's death. Theirs was an inspiring act of selflessness and reconciliation, reflecting their mother's nature. (But you read all that anyway!)
Annette, thank you, as always, for your honest and endorsing encouragement.
And, I might take this opportunity, if they're reading, to apologise for all the breaking of those drug laws their Grandmother had set forth to enforce amongst those of us within her realm!

[Annette Pisano-Higley]

Brett I am so very sorry For your loss. It must be so hard for you and your young son. My prayers are with you both. Yes, i understand how personally felt this was for you now. The Princes demonstrated the sweet, noble and giving nature they inherited from their dear mother. They stood as fine young men- and they forgave.Your poem is so deeply evocative of this. Oh yes-You are so funny about breaking the Queen's drug laws-ha! Always a pleasure to read your work my friend. Blessings , healing and peace wished for you and your son...

[Brett Hernan]

Thank you, dear Annette. That was heartfelt.

[Gee]

I tip my hat to you sir, a wonderfully written piece, sad, stark, moving.
What a loss to the world but even more so to the two boys

[Brett Hernan]

Gee, you are too kind and it is sadly true that it was only the power of the story of a loss so sad, stark, moving and tragic for both the world and to that Lady's children which compulsively drew my pen to it, demanding expression.