Call me silly, call me a nerd, but I will forever remain infatuated with the English language. I was that bizarre child in the seventh grade who always volunteered to read the Shakespearean monologues before the class, who loved Portia and Horatio far more dearly than any pop-icon of the current day. I remember with uncanny clarity the class where my sixth grade teacher recited for us, in animated tones, Noyes' 'The Highwayman'. The words were strung together so smoothly, like rich butter, and the subject of the poem so engaging -oh, that climax!- that I hung on every sentence as a child entranced. When he concluded, I let out a deep sigh whilst my heart melted in delicious delight at such a savory display of genius.
"Words, words, words" as Hamlet stated, are the stones that buttress the cathedral of my creative mind...And I LOVE them for it.
Some days, a simple idea will present itself and becomes restless until it can clamber its way out.
Those days, I write and sift my soul of all it's creative nuggets - pouring my heart, my vision, my emotion into neat little lines on a page.
To write is to be vulnerable - to present one's mind, one's self, in it's deepest, raw and unadorned state to the world; and to offer it on the altar of opinion.
Please judge kindly, my friends...for I am well aware -as yet- I am no Alfred Tennyson.
The Defender
By Lauren Barden
A wager was struck, on those pearly steps,
that first Monday in November
On those pearly steps on Capitol Hill,
Two young interns for the semester
Twin pairs of eyes –his brown, hers blue-
On the elongated, majestic Mall
Guarded by sentinels, architects of time
Effigies entombed in iron and stone
Through sightless gazes and set, stony jaws
preaching a great truth they had known
Entreating, expecting, informing, imploring,
“Forget not what to defend!”
Twin pairs of eyes –his brown, hers blue-
Animatedly contended the play,
The fiercest race, and the steepest stakes
of tomorrow’s judgment day.
Twin, bright, young minds –his blue, hers red-
Afire with political passion.
The morning dawned, the pink sun rose,
On those pearly capitol steps
The proud flags flew –base blue, stripes red-
each polling ballot checked
Selecting, suggesting, collecting, confessing
“I know what I want to defend”
The evening came, the peach sun sunk,
On those pearly capitol stones
And as ears of the polity, eager and perched
Devoured talk of the fated unknown,
Twin slumped shoulders in Congressional quarters
Had naught but silence to share
Twin pairs of eyes –brown bright, blue troubled-
Surveyed the battle on-screen
And the black poison of loss diffused through her veins,
A grief time wouldn’t redeem
Brown eyes spread wide with delicious delight
“They elected what I defend!”
But triumphant gaze softened, his ecstasy silenced,
At the sight of that piercing blue stare
Glistening wet, weary, resilient, steely
To lament her great hero’s despair
Twin pairs of eyes met –his condolent, hers assentive-
As he smoothed a jeweled tear from her cheek
-
He held her hand, on those pearly steps
The fourth Monday of the year
On those pearly steps on Capitol Hill,
Two inauguration spectators
Twin pairs of eyes- his brown, hers blue-
On the elongated, majestic Mall
Guarded by sentinels, officers of state
Adorned in fine trappings and manner
With fixed gazes and firm jaws
They arrayed the national banner
Proceeding, protecting, demanding, declaring
“National honor is what we defend!”
Twin pairs of eyes –his brown, hers blue-
In the warm and energized throng
The sea of bodies, the rush of voices
Awaited the procession long
Twin bright, young minds –his blue, hers red-
Pondered four years to come
The trumpets came, the procession neared,
And they drew abreast the street,
Where the grey-haired victor and his lovely wife
Waved gloved hands as if to greet
A thunderous crowd, the mighty ‘People’
The pulse of the democratic state
Blue eyes appraised the mighty spectacle,
What exultation from her loss!
And her eyes traced the enclosing faces
As she bore her lonely cross
But oh! –recognizing, registering, repulsing
She caught the glint of a gun!
Twin hands were clasped, one gaze beheld,
The assassin two wingspans by
His patterned hat –base blue, stripes red-
Masking his venom eyes
A jacket cradled his occupied grip
What the officers had failed to espy
The grey-haired victor and his lovely wife
Were approaching the ominous scene
And wide, blue eyes with mounting horror
Saw the flash of the barrel’s gleam
Twin hands unlaced from tender grip,
As one plunged into the human sea
The blue eyes pressed the thunderous throng,
As the nose began to raise
And as the site locked on its mark
She pled for the chance to save!
While twin brown eyes –both deep, both gentle-
Watched her swallowed by the mass
His gaze caught a cap –blue base, stripes red-
A handgun cocked and loaded
And witnessed, in horror, her avert the weapon
Where into her chest it exploded
His lips ripped forth a harrowing cry, brown eyes wide and wild
The horde cowered in shrieks of fear
As she collapsed to the street, Pennsylvania street,
And the officers all came running
The gunman was taken, grey-haired victor shaken,
And shocking, succumbing, knowing, numbing,
He knelt in the road, the broken body in the road
His love –eyes blue, blood red-
Twin pairs of eyes –his brown, hers blue-
Twin, bright, young minds –his blue, hers red-
Afire with political passion
Released from pain, in his arms in’twined
Twin eyes met–his condolent, hers assentive-
And she smoothed a jeweled tear from his cheek
Her blue eyes closed, so softly closed,
And he clutched her to his chest,
Before cameras, Congressman, and sobered crowds
A nation witnessed his distress
One knelt before him –hair grey, tie red-
Pressed a hand upon his shoulder
Affirmed to brown eyes, alight with tears
“Was never a patriot truer”
They bore her form, red from the blast
To an auto, draped the emblem o’er her
Preserver, protector, diligent defender
of the vision –base blue, stripes red-
