Poem: Sparks to Flames
An Epiphany:
I got this revelation when I read back my poetry, and this gem was hidden. I did not realize this at all. Thank you, Sarah Polyakov 🖌🎨for letting me discover this.
I got this revelation when I read back my poetry, and the gem was hidden. I did not realize this at all. Thank you, Sarah Polyakov 🖌🎨for letting me discover this.
What is the greatest gift to a creator?
When a creator spawns a creation, that spawns another creation, that spawns another creation.
Here is how this played out. Check the below clip on this epiphanous journey.
Parent 1: Sarah Polyakov 🖌🎨’s original artwork ‘Boudica — The Warrior Queen’ spawned-
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Child: my poetry ‘Boudicca: Is freedom not beautiful?’. It had a line ‘‘I call all — Julie, Marie, Elizabeth, and Harriet; Nobody shall stay and no order to peck.’
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Grand Child: and I just discovered that this was the inspiration of Sarah Polyakov 🖌🎨’s artwork ‘Boudicca’s daughters’ Julie, Marie, Elizabeth and Harriet.
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Great Grand Child: Now that spawned another poetry, which shall present now. ‘Boudicca: Her Daughters — Sparks to Flames’.
Foreword:
A fictional yet historically leaning narrative of ekphrasis poetry. ‘Boudicca — 2: The Daughters’, inspired by the Artwork of Sarah Polyakov 🖌🎨. Here are Sarah’s descriptions of the four daughters of Boudicca.
Here I quote Sarah’s posts along with her artwork of Boudicca’s daughters.
Marie: Marie, confidently fighting for her city, amid fire and flying swords, all while she wears flowers in her tusseled hair.
Harriet: She took her power back by grabbing Roman Crown, for her spoils of war. One sacred thing for another.
Elizabeth: Her eyes are aglow for she is using her “second sight,” and traveling the paths of her ancestors, seeking guidance from the unseen. Deep in thought is she, for she wants the Roman Armies to let Icini be.
Julie: She races into the woods to warn the others, but her horse abruptly halts in the morning fog. Her hair and garb are a torrent; foreshadowing what is to come. Are the Icini waiting in the woods or is something more sinister unfolding?
The daughters of Boudicca, the Iceni Queen who fought and led against Romans, had their special skills that enabled the success; not only they overcome the outrage to their modesty, but they lit the path of victory for the Britons.
The Poem: ‘Sparks to Flames’
The Construct:
- Prologue, the Context sets the context of the poem, dealing with the names given to the two known daughters of Boudicca, by Shakespeare, and establish the fictional premise based on Sarah’s artwork.
- Part 1: The Two Sisters… describes the childhood of Brigid and Boudicca, the two sisters, who are like Chalk and Cheese. The young Iceni prince, Prasutagus falls for Brigid’s beauty, but realize the value of marrying Boudicca too.
- Part 2: … Now Become Four covers the marriage of Prasutagus with Brigid and Boudicca, the birth of their four daughters — Marie, Harriet, Elizabeth and Julie, and their individual traits. It covers the peculiar vow taken by the parents, and introduce the Roman Governor Suetonius with whom Prasutagus signs the Iceni Will.
- Part 3: The Twin Tragedy describes the unexpected demise of Brigid in her sleep, which leads to the deterioration of Prasutagus’ health, and finally his demise. While still recovering from the twin tragedies, the Romans and nobles of Iceni ask her to step down, to which she refuses. Much before her mutilation, Boudicca sents Julie and Elizabeth away, keeping Marie and Harriet with her.
- Part 4: The Prophecy of Purpose covers the story from a distant point of view of Julie and Elizabeth, who hear the news of the mutilation of their mother and violation of her sisters by Romans. The two sisters discuss the purpose of their skills and existence.
- Part 5: Sparks to Flames describes how the two sisters rally to her mother’s calls to arms, and display their skills along with Marie and Harriet in helping Briton achieve their initial victories. The spy in Julie and the sorcercy of Elizabeth warn Boudicca of her impending doom, but she explains why the sisters are purposefully kept away from the battle field.
- Part 6: Design of Destiny covers the aspect of the philosophy of purpose, destiny and fickleness of history. It details the lives of the two sisters, now alive but living quietly, in the aftermath of the Boudicca, Marie and Harriet’s martyrdom.
PROLOGUE: THE CONTEXT
This is the second part of the Iceni story
Sparks to flames, flames to the fires of fury
The Boudicca daughters, not twine, but quartet
Named Julie, Elizabeth, Marie and Harriet.
There are other names on the two on the chariot,
The good old bard called them Epona and Bonvica
Sarah and I name them anew, Marie and Harriet,
Still the brave hearts of good old Britannica.
Names different, but the characters the same
Names lost in the eastern sea winds, icy and cold,
The sparks that kindled the freedom flame
The valour of the Boudicca daughters now retold.
PART 1: THE TWO SISTERS …
Is it the swoosh of the autumn breeze or its silence
Or is it the shadows of sounds that they call the echoes
The names that rock in Iceni across the farms and their fences
Or in the sounds of lazy cockerel’s early morning crows
Aloud, or in the dongs of the afternoon temple bell
‘Brigid and Boudicca’ make Iceni hearts swell.
Little hands twine, one grasping the other
As four little feet run hither and thither
One auburn and tawny, another wavy and blond,
Contrasting tresses, but giggle these two sisters fond
Brigid, the elder, beautiful, demure and mellow
Boudicca, younger, taller but acts like an awkward fellow.
One drop of honey with two of wine, of that high pitched voice
Brigid’s croons melt the frost and soothe the scars
No art, no letter, but Boudicca’s hands break many toys
Horses and spears, she trains; her ears tunes to stories of wars
Chalk is one, and cheese is the other, but their parents proud
All is well, till Iceni’s horizons were filled with the Roman cloud.
Boudicca rides and fights, but when she catches a blister
Brigid worries, bathes and balms her little, little sister,
Even when she is on chores, miles and eons away,
Brigid’s recitals is where Boudicca’s heart lay
‘Blessed are you,’ to the parents, the besotted villagers say
‘Too talented to be married, we wish for you and pray’.
The waving green grass turns into auburn and gold
Birches shed those leaves, they become so austere
Standing naked, shivering in the freezing Iceni cold
Winter solstice goes, spring dawns, and summers sear
Seasons come and seasons go, the sister bloom and glow
One’s beauty and another’s bravery, the world now knows.
Prasutagus, that Iceni prince, beaming with pride
That he has handled the Roman problem in his stride
For he gets to keep his crown, tribe, and estate
If he pays taxes and becomes a Roman client-state
What the world has heard, the wind whispers in his ears
That there are two sisters whom the Iceni holds dear.
With a soldier and two, he sets to ride to the sisters’ town
Disguised in simple, brown tunic, and his hat like a clown
Brigid’s golden tresses wave and dance in the cool Iceni breeze
The blonde girl sings a Norfolk ballad, her voice like the Celtic wine
His vain heart skips a beat and all his senses freeze,
His dark lips move slow, but sure — ‘Dear bard, you are indeed mine’.
The blush of the evening sky, wraps tight on his purple cheeks
As his eyes soak her beauty and he drowns in her voice
When silence dawns, she disappears without a trace
His eyes search for her like the pied wagtail his pair,
‘There she is. Now who does my girl, with fondness, embrace?’
Tall and feisty with auburn tresses, stands like a Celtic mare.
‘Sir, Brigid is the songstress, the blonde with the honeyed voice’
‘Boudica, the taller one with auburn tresses, a warrior in poise.’
His men, as if their cue, point towards the sisters two,
One who has melted his heart, like the morning dew
The glimpse of the other rushes his blood and races his breath,
Lost in lust and longing for love, he runs away into the open heath.
He stares at the clear skies, and raises his hands in prayer,
‘Oh Andraste, the protector of Iceni and the enemy-slayer’
‘I beseech you, please bless me to marry the sisters twine’
‘One is my heartfelt love and other poiseful warrior divine’
‘To both their progeny, I shall bequeath my throne in my will’
‘Despite their good word, I don’t trust the cunning Romans still’.
With a twinkle in his eyes, like the million stars above
The resolved Iceni scion returns to the sisters he loves,
‘Dear Brigid and Boudica, shall I ask your hand to marry’
‘Come spring, I shall return, and the promise of betrothal I carry.’
Their parents by their side, the two sisters nod and blush
Lost in his limitless love, like a pair of goldfinches in the thrush.
PART 2: … NOW BECOME FOUR
That spring was special, none that Iceni has seen ever
Early rains sprinkling the bridal couple with their showers
Iceni, gloated in grandeur and their pride at an all time high
Prasutagus’ wedding now catches the Roman’s roving eye
Suetonius, the vicious and wily, appears not long after
Set himself up as the Roman Lord of Britannia, and its governor.
The twin sisters now are the princesses of Celtic land
Where time becomes still, but more so meaningless
The small moments of love leave lasting imprints in time’s sand
Only to be rewritten, by a breeze of lust, blowing afresh
Seeds of progeny sown now in the twin sister’s wombs
The royalty of Iceni now faces the Roman might with aplomb.
The Iceni scion now decides to ascend the throne,
But he has to settle things with the Romans still
He summons Suetonius, for a meeting alone
To discuss the contents of his forthcoming will
‘I shall bequeath my title, land to all my progeny
And anoint Rome as the guardians of Iceni.’
Suetonius agrees to the terms of the Iceni will
Soaked in black ink and signed with Roman quill
The Iceni king now feels proud and in peace
For the agreed plan, now together in one piece
Another good news arrives, now filling him in mirth
That his two queens are about to give birth.
The maids in waiting rush to him.’Sir, four girls’
The king hollers.’I shall shower you all with pearls’
Two in the week one and then two more, to the sister each,
First sporadic, then rhythmic and then in torrents,
The cries of the four girls, did the halls of the castle reach.
Happy were the father, the mothers and the grandparents.
Boudicca calls her children Elizabeth and Marie
Brigid proudly calls hers as Harriet and Julie
On a quirky morning, the three parents vow
To swap a child between the mothers somehow.
Brigid adopts the Julie, the youngest one,
Harriet lands in Boudicca’s lap, her heart already won.
The girls, now the life of the country and castle
Running in their chubby feet, the maids they hassle
Marie is much like Boudicca, already showing a warrior’s poise
The little Julie loves to fly, riding horses is her first choice
Harriot likes the horses, but them more with the chariots,
Elizabeth loves the fairies, fables and playing with the tarots.
PART 3: THE TWIN TRAGEDY
For the first time, there is peace in the land of Iceni
Not faraway, were watching in envy, the eyes of Romany;
Is it their jealousy or something far, far worse
It seems that an evil eye cast a vicious curse
One summer morning, Brigid never wakes up from her sleep
Was she not just tired last night and asked for a slumber, deep?
What happened to her remains a forever mystery
Brigid disappears forever into Iceni’s history
The kingdom of Iceni mourns deeply her sudden loss
Prasutagus,shocked and lies in his bed shocked and aghast
Slowly, it sinks in him that he would never hear her voice,
Even Boudicca’s soothing words don’t give him his counterpoise.
Love is fickle like life, but sometimes fatal too,
The belief in eternity shattered by the bolts from the blue
Murmurs and whispers now swelling within the Iceni ramparts
A world so beautiful together, now rapidly falling apart
Would Iceni survive this fatal onslaught now on the double?
Boudicca must keep things together, lest the Romans sense trouble.
With an edict from the dying king, she adorns the Iceni scepter and crown
The news brings happiness and citizens, but the Iceni nobles frown
Of all things to be done, she decides to secure her lineage first
Then deal with the skeptic nobles and the cunning Romans next
She sends off Julie and Elizabeth, far off to the hinterlands
Long before the Romans and nobles arrive in bands.
Deep in her heart, she know she has got it right
With two girls secure, she can manage her fright
She is told that there is a meeting of nobles and ministers
Her gut says something is wrong, and far more sinister
For she can see new faces in the palace guards
Her mind churns the possibilities and odds.
On that wintery evening, she hurries towards the palace hall
Oh, the king’s men were there — ministers, nobles and all
Surprised she is, for there is a sprinkling of a few Romans too
She now recalls the last night’s report that there could be a coup
Everybody stands as she gets to the throne, but with no visible respect
There is confidence in her mind, because of the king’s iron-clad pact.
The first among the nobles now stands up, his face twisted in hate
Says he — ‘Where we have reached, my queen, such is our fate?’
Shocked by those words, she stands up and asks. ‘Noble, what do you mean?’
He has all the gall and acts gander. ‘A situation unbecoming, to be ruled by a queen.’
‘This shall not be our fate, and ends forthwith. Even the Romans here agree.’
‘A chance that we shall, out of mercy. Gather your chickens and from here, flee.’
She rolled her head, sitting back, and laughed on the noble’s heresy
‘To the Romans, you have sold your souls. I shall stay and serve Iceni.’
A silence descended in the palace hall, the queen alone standing her ground
While the nobles withdrew, letting more Roman soldiers surround.
Suetonius climbs the steps of the throne. ‘You have had your chance.’
‘No woman shall rule — you, who usurped this throne with your little romance.’
She stood tall, taller than the tall Roman governor, like Andraste, divine.
‘You shan’t insult me, Roman scum, for I am the queen of Iceni.’
She thundered thus. ‘You are the invader like a termite on a bountiful tree.’
‘Listen! Traitors and trespassers alike; Fight me, if you have backbone any.’
The wily Suetonius laughed; ‘You were never a queen but a cheap whore’.
‘All you see here are your traitors and my faithful Romans galore.’
The story branches off to Part 1 : The Day of Travesty, if you want to read Boudicca’s Point of view of the story. Since Marie and Harriet stayed with Boudicca, they were tortured, undressed and raped. Boudicca was flogged and molested. We will now move to Julie and Elizabeth’s point of view, so that the story travels in parallel till the call by Boudicca for all to join the war of uprising against the cruel Romans, with these words of hers. ‘I call all — Julie, Marie, Elizabeth, and Harriet; Nobody shall stay and no order to peck.’
PART 4 : THE PROPHECY OF PURPOSE
‘When part of the tree dies, and the other half is mauled yet survives’
‘While we, the birds that have flown away from the forest fire are alive.’
‘When there is no more your home and there is no more your family.’
‘Should we wait in our cocoons and forget about butterflies?’, laments Elizabeth.
‘Faraway and safe, our heart bleeds, as we hear the news from Iceni’, cries Julie.
‘Our mother and sisters now vandalized, violated to a life worse than death’.
Even the breeze is quiet and still, as if it is Providence’s will
As if they wait for something, even the stars forget to twinkle
‘Dear Beth and Julie’, says an apparition in the dark and clear sky
‘Wait for your bidding like the flowers wait for spring’
‘Lie low for now, to avoid the Roman’s prying eyes’
‘When time is ripe, your mother shall need all you can bring’.
The two girls nod and set upon a long journey west
With their maids to find a place that shall suit them best,
Perhaps a temple or a quiet, obscure, yet peaceful village
Faraway that have never heard of the wretched Roman’s pillage
They have been told to stay quiet, act demure and be alive
And wait for their day when her mother’s messenger shall arrive.
A few weeks pass, the summer shine demurs to autumn rains
The waving green grass turns into auburn and gold,
Carts roll on the slushy village road laden with grains
To the granaries far away, to be stored and sold
The Romans edict says ‘pay taxes to be alive’
One quiet morning, Boudicca’s messenger arrives.
‘Dear Julie and Beth’, reads her message thus,
‘Hope you are safe, and do not worry about us.’
‘Broken and bruised are our bodies, but strong are our wills.’
‘It is time to plough the Romans down, so all hands on the till.’
‘Julia with her sword, and I in the middle and Harriet -’
‘-shall slash through the Roman crowd in our royal chariot’.
‘I need help from a distance, I need two eyes’
‘One to see into the time and another into the distance’
‘You ride like a wind, Julie, through the Roman ranks you spy’
‘A glimpse into the future, Beth, and see what makes sense.’
‘You shall be be at a distance, yet serve for our dear Iceni’
‘For if we three die, you shall carry forward our royal progeny’.
‘Why did I love horses?’ Julie muses. ‘I just love them.’
Beth counters,‘Is it not that you love them for a purpose?’
‘I just love to ride them like a wind and cause mayhem.’
‘There is always a reason why I have skills as a sorceress.’
‘I don’t bother,’ says young Julie. ‘I can ride, so I shall spy.’
‘I take care of the distance, and seeing into the future, you try.’
‘Why did mother send us away, and allowed Marie and Harriet to stay?’
Julie wonders. ‘Marie is a swordster, and Harriet is a charioteer.’
‘Does mother need them more, in the war that’s coming our way?’
Beth laughs. ‘You are right indeed, now don’t lose your cheer.’
Julie laughs. ‘You find out, dear Beth, the vicious Roman pranks.’
‘I shall now go off into the woods to get behind the Roman ranks.’
Part 5 should be read in parallel with Part 4: The First Victories and Part 5: The Final Stand of ‘Is freedom not beautiful?’ to continue Boudicca’s point of view. We will stick to Julie and Elizabeth’s point of view for the sister’s narrative here. We hear the four sisters here, two in battle and two from a distance.
PART 5: SPARKS TO FLAMES
At a distance, Elizabeth divines the auguries,
Sparks to flames, flames to the fires of fury
Their tresses glow like the auburn flame
Unblemished by the Roman shame
Like embers their eyes spark and crackle
Determined to break the Roman shackle.
Marie’s sword, like the King Arthur, the ruler of the yore,
Slices through the Romans, cutting flesh and bones
Stunned as statues, a woman on rampage, never seen before
Woman to man, swearing and seething, yet fights aloof and alone
Her calloused hands and sword, her face dripping of blood and gore
Is it Andresta’s anger or Marie’s mayhem raising such a furore?
In the charioteer seat is Harriett, walloping the stallions hard
The ground shivers under their hooves, like an earthly thunder
The wheels squeal, but also slice feet and legs, even their nards
These alive bleed and fervently plead, to spare them to surrender
‘No mercy’, shouts she, and seizes the Roman commander’s crown
While the hooves trample and blades gore his guts, cutting him down.
Stirred by Boudicca’s words, now everyone has a purpose.
Victory is a lot by design, but a little destiny should bless.
Her one eye in the battle, and another at the distance
A cloud of dust, a horse coming through on that is Julie,
Rushing to deliver a new message from their alliance
That the wretched Suetonius is regrouping stealthily.
‘Dear Mother.’ Julie pants, like her racing horse, ‘I met Beth too.’
‘On my way back, for a brief while, I thought I should meet her.’
‘Deep in thought was she, glowing in an aura of purple hue’
‘Some sorcery,’ I say. She just waves her wand and scepter.
‘It is not good, Julie, for I can speak to our ancestors dear.’
‘They wallow in sadness, and their message is clear.’
‘Something awful is about to happen, my dear Julie.’
‘I bid you to hurry, and tell mother — it is about our family.’
‘For there are four stars that twinkle in the darkness of night.’
‘Of them, two extinguish, and two remain in my second sight.’
Boudicca frowns then smiles and hugs her youngest daughter.
For even the victorious she sees nightmares of Briton’s slaughter.
‘Dear Mother.’ Julie sniffles. ‘Elizabeth says she speaks to the unseen.’
‘A herd of sheep chased by wolves, with snarling teeth and looking mean’
‘As I was riding back, Mother, even my horse trembled as if he felt a chill-’
‘-refused to go forward, for some reason, standing very, very still.’
‘Nothing to worry, my dear. I shall take care of Marie and Harriet.’
‘Having seen me, ride back to Iceni, and calm your sister Beth’s disquiet.’
‘For the Romans plan to destroy every town, village and city
And occupy Britanicca throughout, forever and eternity.’
‘Our revolt dripped in passion, we Britons crashed and burned.’
‘Sometimes, we need patience and play long, and that will be your turn.’
We have and shall fight, through the defile in the Watling Street
Elizabeth and you, dear Julia, should lie low and retreat.
‘Warriors will be born, and warriors shall always die
But Iceni needs your skills, both that of sorceress and spy.’
‘Julie, keep an eye on this land, the breadth and the distance’
‘Elizabeth, who I may never see, is living a life of penance’
‘She knows her calling as she listens to the wisdom of the unseen.’
Julie knows now her path to be taken and on Elizabeth, she shall lean.
This part is designed as a conversation between Boudicca and Julie in the melee of the war, just before the battle of Watling Street, for she is the one who travels to and fro, for Elizabeth is in the Iceni village, and Marie and Harriet, are busy in the war. The reader can read ‘Part 5: The Final Stand’ to understand Boudicca’s point of view. For the next part, we shall remain with Julie and Elizabeth, for they live after.
PART 6: DESIGN OF DESTINY
When trust is rewarded with travesty, amplified by treason
Even great acts don’t suffice, or succeed for no reason
When the good and evil clash, in a bitter and bloody duel
The good does not always win, such is this world, cruel.
That is why when we read and wonder about history
The past cannot be figured, it remains an eternal mystery.
Is it wiser to wait rather than march toward Watling street
Or even wiser, that we move away in exile or retreat
For like moths, the Briton crash and burn on the freedom lamp,
Their bodies defiled and lay on the battlefield, barren yet damp.
Oh, they could never find the sword or the chariot,
Neither Boudicca, nor Marie nor Harriet.
For they know too well, the treacherous Roman’s drama and dance
They disappear, taking their lives in a moment of peace and nonchalance,
Poisoned yet peaceful, now they sleep forever till eternity
A message at the village just after. ‘Remember your responsibility.’
‘Preserve the Iceni acorn, when the time is ripe, you shall sow
When the Iceni acorn is sown, a freedom forest will grow.’
Nowadays, in their life of quiet, the two sisters discard their royal traits
Seasons go and season come, for their turn they lay in wait
From sparks to flames, from flames to fires, now fires fume as embers
The Boudicca story now is a bedtime story, repeated and remembered,
As their bodies wither and memories fade of the tumultuous years gone
Generations now under the Roman rule, Iceni still awaits the freedom dawn.
Romans continued to occupy and rule Britain and Iceni till the beginning of the fourth century. The Boudicca story is almost forgotten, as generations have adapted to the new regimes that have come by.
Thank you for reading this long poem. If read with Part 1, it becomes a legend — the Legend of Boudicca.
~Ashok Subramanian © 2022
