The Monk’s Vision
Aloft a brothel’s barge
with two beside
liquid lines processional,
embowered golden scents,
stood a painted courtesan
as in a vision the monk saw.
His chanting fingers trembled,
as if her subdued scarlet figure
were of a bride, pink as dew,
whom he had left to follow
the path of his enlightenment.
Fearful he took a closer look:
the vision turned, her gaze obsidian
and chill his blood like the Yangtze ran
his visage grayed like the Changjiang Plain
where she for him in dishonor won
his pellucid peace with her forsaken cries.
He made as to rise, prostrate to sink, reverent,
but she her glance of saber-scorn withdrew
and looking behind at her companion true
whispered, “There sits a saintly hooded fool!”
For dVerse’s MTB, synesthesia is the name of the game and I thought I’d add a bit of ekphrasis to it to spin an operatic tale. Be sure the check out Mr. Linky for more offerings in this vein.
This Jolly Beggar 
I love the operatic tale of the saintly hooded fool. This was a dramatic moment:
the vision turned, her gaze obsidian
and chill his blood like the Yangtze ran
his visage grayed like the Changjiang Plain
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Thank you, Grace! Your prompt was a pleasure to read and respond to, so I appreciate your generous comments very much.
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Very wonderful poem Dora… love the obsidian gaze!
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Thank you, Dwight!
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I love this: what an evocative and colourful tale!
‘the vision turned, her gaze obsidian
and chill his blood like the Yangtze ran’
Made me imagine all those places I have never seen!
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So glad you liked it, Ingrid! Thank you.
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I enjoyed this operatic tale of the painted courtesan, Dora, the use of colour to depict character, and the hints at the monk’s past life.
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Glad you enjoyed it, Kim. Thank you!
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What a sedate and stately poem! Lovely imagery, moves like the river.
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Thank you, Jane, for your generous comments ❤️
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I admire anyone who can shift cultures like that 🙂
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This is remarkable, Dora. I am drowning in the world of your words. Stirring, if not stunning.
“embowered golden scents,
stood a painted courtesan
as in a vision the monk saw.”
Dark imagery, and the verses are lyrical in this foresight from the monk. What a beauty this is, it’s an honor and pleasure to read your work. You have talent, poetess. Never stop writing and inspiring. ❤️
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Thank you so much, dear Lucy! Forgive me for the late reply. I don’t know how I missed it. Your golden words always encourage me to not give up on Lady Poesie. 💝
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The procession of liquid lines… the colors and the tale flowed from there. Well done!
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Thank you so much … Very kind of you, D.
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I enjoyed reading this operatic tale which didn’t disappoint with it’s “obsidian gaze and saber-scorn glance.” Excellent storytelling, a piece I won’t forget!
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Thank you, Tricia. ❤️
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There are a couple of different ways this can be read, which only adds to its exquisite telling. I’d like to know the rest of the story. One of your best, Dora!
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Thank you so much, Lisa. Your comments mean a lot to me, my friend 🙏
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You’re welcome ❤
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I’m so glad you added the picture. Your imagination in creating this story is keen and your choice of words, as in, chanting fingers – gaze obsidian – pellucid peace – saber-scorn and my favorite – saintly hooded fool
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Thank you, Debi! I appreciate your generous comments so much.
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An incredibly arresting poem filled with mesmerizing images! I love; “her gaze obsidian and chill his blood like the Yangtze ran his visage.”💝
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Thank you, Sanaa! So kind and thoughtful of you 😊💖
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I really loved this tale … and especially the ending which leaves me with this:
“There sits a saintly hooded fool!”… maybe wondering if you can ever judge another human being without judging yourself.
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Indeed, Bjorn. That’s wisdom indeed. Thanks for the thoughtful comments, my friend.
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