EDENBRAY in EXILE – 17 – concerning andriose, andeleuse & methuen

‘Edenbray in Exile’

A Retrospective Anthology of Poetry, Articles and Essays

… … …


~ The Lost Part – written – July of 1991 – completed – June of 2014 ~

… … …

Concerning Andriose and Methuen 

*   *   *

A step as light as caused not lily leaf to tremor

A lithe and subtle frame, a skip and measured step,

A gate so gracious, so soft, latent and naive.

A mind of pastel colours, quiet and considered

and thoughts lush, rich and warm.

Who stepped on stones and pondered?

Or dipped a heal, a toe, in cool, fresh waters?

Or ran the smoothest sands to laugh?

Who walked with limbs tall and stretched?

Enjoying her youth, a sway, a turn, a giggle!

Whose fun, gentle and intense?

A discovery of each moment, a personal joy!

Who splashed the waves that caught her midriff?

and bathed her body golden?

The rush, the spray, the hidden warmth, as lovers lift and fall!

 *   *   *

And Methuen? who loved to watch the deer!

To climb the sun-baked granite and crouch!

Hearing trained on each sound and movement!

Where he might gaze the valleys green and ochre.

His sight as long as the purple-grey mountains on the eastern slopes

Or wide as the grey-green hills beyond the river

Where he believed there might yet be a smaller breed

Who chased with velvet antlers high and various

He stretched now, a tall form caught raw against the early evening sky

Where taught and toned, his limbs dusted by the sands of the far plains

That the winds brought in a golden cloud each morning

The purple sky blushed peach caught his outline,

A dark, burnt-sienna, angled, firm and oiled by the days heat.

Methuen walked this path on mornings fair

Or even when the warm winds blew a tumult gale

That lifted plant and scrub and caused the desert hares to scuttle

He loved to stand as now, the width of vision so intense

He could at times have cried, so moved with joy

The splendid epic set was so rare even to his unknowing gaze

This was his land he knew and cared for

and though in clear light he could see so far

That shapes ‘sembled and moved to draw his attention

His wander-lust was satisfied in thought

and the sad pangs that caught him when considering

Even several nights beyond the care of his sweetest Andriose

Whose love lit stars in the night sky

and helped his wakened thoughts to settle.

Would the morning catch them?

Bonded gold by the bright gamboge day-star!

Or would the night draw back the veil of passions seed bed?

and show the naked lovers enlaced, plaited?

*   *   * 

Methuen loved Andriose, this she knew full well

and when she heard the evening birds call

She waited for his safe return.

He never far behind, brought her mountain flowers

She wore them in her hair.



edited 14.10.2011

Concerning Andeleuse and Methuen ?

( Alt. Concerning Danuck the younger )

*   *   *


the other woman,

there always has to be

another woman

… and Andeleuse so cold, had watched the mating couple

as the sun set beyond Adderropp and vowed then, did she

that he would be her golden lover as to herself she made

this certain promise, whilst Methuen, whose eyes so full of stars

 was thrilled by her attentions and her acquaintance had never

yielded or in his heart wandered, but as a lazy lion lays down

with love, lioness or a black viper that feels the need of heat

he squandered fair Andriose, whose heart he fully broke

and for this love of lust the maidens heart he cur’d so hard

herself, she washed in dust, cut her hair to stalks and cried

herself  in and out of sleep and pain ‘atop the ‘Gorgeous’ mountain

the mountain so generous, so full, as she before the news of

Methuen’s folly adored, which spread through the association of the

couples families, friends, hierarchy and enemies – as people often do 

Methuen himself, donkey brained and distraught struck out

like a tortured character from a bards sonnet, he so full of woe

and lamenting,  forgot to dress and ran naked through the town

the parts spent in his recent treachery for all to see so jangled

like jailor’s keys from his waist bronzed and eerie in evening light

the naked lover found his naked Gillot lying in grit and rough grass

her knees, breasts, bloodied, her face black with bruising and the grief

he lifted Andriose – the crushed wild flower, carried her to water,

where by a mountain pool he plied her with love and necessary tenderness

~ the intimacy that only truest lovers may share, till even a smile crept

across her face, for she felt no hatred, only hurt and senseless failure

Three weeks on and in that night as cold as winter, dark as writing ink

Andeleuse let blood from a gaping wound in her lean, long neck

severed by a skinning knife whilst she slept

and borrowed from Andriose’s father, the hunter

– a subsequent hatred – formed from vengeance that pursues truth

where all judgements are settled by a dark reason that in turn

settles the folly that is neither accident, nor providence

nor certainly nature’s will.

Andeleuse’s father, Danack the elder, added his own part to this sorry tale

in early recognition of his daughters larceny, he saw only sadness

must follow for these three heart-crossed lovers, foul or fair

and on the night of the greater felony he followed at a distance

to see how things might turn out for the apple of his eye.

Danack took the body and remains, his righteous indignation,

his loins fruit, his incurable pain and hid and buried her where no one,

not even animal or wolf or angels wand would ever find or mutilate,

he took this end to his grave for the end of love

and for a two who were not even his own nor ever would be,

stranger still that when Andriose and Methuen birthed a younger

~ they named him Danuck, he grew a mighty leader


#Authors Note ~ It is about time this chap turned up in some guise or other – ‘Baladin the wise and learnéd’ – on this occasion ~ ‘Baladin the Storyteller’ – Normally, as storyteller, it is because he ‘were’ there, at some point of his long & varied life – as a boy – as a man – as a lover or as a friend – for those familiar with my writing and my stories you will have met Baladin before and no doubt hopefully you will meet with him again. He is as old as time, he is as wise as any old & dusty, gold-leafed book – he is DemBala the Wolfmaster who has seen nearly all – the good, the bad and yes, the ugly and now gather round folks – to hear this both gentle and torrid tale included truly in Edenbray’s 2nd Retrospective Anthology.

This is an 0de to the great Norsk & Greek Mythologies, it honours the likes of J.R. Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, the bard himself – Sir William S. of Stratford – So tune the liar, the Northumberland pipes, set up ale in tankards pewter, cooked meats on the bone, baked bread – fresh, hot and lascivious, agéd spirits & spiced foods – gather round the ‘toasting fire’ and let this Prince of Wisdom’s Tales so don his velvet tassle-cap to spin this yarn for us to hear and later tell – Let’s now begin to listen in, on tales renowned of Baladin – let him unfurl this unholy Tale of Life from long ago and well ‘afore this endemic’ showed – Andriose, Andeleuse and Methuen ~ at last a rival then to Romeo & Juliet!? 


About edenbray

I am a writer ... a beat poet who began writing poetry way back in 1966 ... 'edenbray is born ugly, wet, covered in blood, mucous & bodily functions, the effluence of my short life' ... I recently published my 1st solo Anthology - the best of 60 years writing - previously I ran my own Art Supplies Store for 40 yrs before I became a full-time writer I am a Blogger who has posted 1,000 poems - available in 24 themed booklets ... please ask for details + leave a 'like' or a comment for my encouragement, thank you so much for listening - I truly value your opinion on my work ~ in fact I literally survive on your creative input ~ edenbray
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