to invite v.

An invitation have I received,

From a most dear friend,

To meet and drink together,

'Till the night does end.

With the Duchess will I rendezvous,

And Brooksby too I hope,

For soon back down to the South,

Our Duchess must elope.

I haven't seen her for an age,

Nor since the great reveal,

But I cannot wait to see her next,

I look forward to it with zeal.

Luthien

Tonight was a party of sorts, and though it was strictly business, drinks flowed unabashed for an hour or two which made the evening bearable. As did the presence of Brooksby and two other dear companions.

The Skipper came first,
Remarkably witty;
And with cropped golden hair,
Remarkably pretty. 

Next came the Princess,
Flamboyantly dressed,
With long curly locks -
She must always impress.

The evening was a semi-charitable event for our beloved Boat Club; of which I have recently been elected Treasurer. I daresay I had a reasonably good time; the food was not costly and the company was not lacking. Though now I am quite exhausted, and the prospect of a most unforgiving day of writing tomorrow does not fill me with much solace for my recently failing motivation. 

I will now retire to bed, where I will undoubtedly lie awake, my mind occupied by a gentleman from my home in a Southern county, which, coincidently, lies quite close to the Duchess's Shire. My mind does not falter on improprieties when I think of him; only on how I have long wished to court him without the scathing looks of his 'delightful' foreign fiancée. We danced once, he and I; our inhibitions long lost to the haze of liquid inebriation. We walked together in the early hours of the morning back to a friends estate, where we fell into a dreamless slumber; his arm around me until I awoke to find him gone. He and his fiancée were together then, and still are now. I find it hard to bear when we go to a ball with friends; he is rarely parted from her and dotes on her so attentively as to make me sick.

But I digress dear courtiers,
To sleep I must now go,
And on the 'morrow when I awake,
More tales will I bestow.

Luthien

inspiration.

Inspiration is fleeting, but when it catches you; the feeling is like no other.

Many times I have read a great book and formulated a wild aspiration to write a novel of my own creation; and much the same occurred when I stumbled across the Duchess.

As the ruse progressed, accusations of my poking fun at her second life grew, and although my rhymes were nearly always of a tongue-in-cheek nature, I have always been sincere with my humble delight at the Duchess's tales. And it is her I thank for the great amusement I have found in releasing my inner 'masked marauder.' The true reason I began the poems was to quash the pang of creative inspiration I felt to write about my own misgivings, in fear of copying too closely the Duchess's ideal.

So now I continue on; at her will, and mine; and of course the ever persuasive Brooksby. Of Brooksby I take great fervor in talking; though for now I will leave her lie. In continuing on in this ambiguously 'eloquent' hand, one could assume I am writing as a courtier of the Duchess, which would in fact please me greatly.

A character of tales I shall remain,
Though tales of my own I'll make,
It has now become clear to me,
That rhymes I can't forsake.

 Luthien

to reprieve v.

To my Dearest Duchess,

I have fought with all my might,

But from my glorious poetry,

I must take a long respite.

I apologise most humbly,

For words written the other eve,

I said harsh truths in anger,

You must therefore be reprieved.

I thought the ball was perfect,

To show you my true face,

Unfortunately for me,

You abstained from it with grace.

So I ask of you Dear Duchess,

Has the time for revelation gone?

For there are few promises you can make,

That I might depend upon.

Name a way worthy enough,

That I might reveal my veil,

And if I find it agreeable,

To you I may then hail.

Luthien

to ridicule v.

To my Dearest Duchess,

Destroyed is my faith in you,

I waited at the ball tonight,

My identity lain forth true.

You decided not to show this 'eve,

Your cohorts left alone,

With the Jester did I speak,

And to him I am now known.

I am vastly disappointed,

In you and your so called guise,

From here on in I must confess,

The Duchess I despise.

Many drinks have I consumed,

Though none more will I drink,

Upon tonights anticlimax,

Will I take much time to think.

I will always admire you,

And your tales will always inspire,

But leave me all alone again,

And wicked will transpire.


Luthien.

to continue v.

The truth is soon to come out,

My secret will be shared,

But how to continue writing;

My character impaired?

Should I continue on as Luthien?

Keep my fortunes as if from the past,

Or write as things really happen?

Myself without the mask. 

I was inspired to be Luthien,

By the Duchess and her style,

But my fortunes are not amusing,

My life does not beguile.

A.F.

to confess v.

As you will soon learn,

The truth behind my mask,

I have of late decided,

To answer some of what you ask.

A.F. relates nothing to my name,

'Tis merely a misleading clue,

It stands only for 'A Friend,'

Which I hope to be to you.
  
As for the title IV,

It stands only for Roman Four,

It plays reference to a book I love,

The Fourth age of men in lore.

 There is one last thing that I should confess,

There is one other who knows,

The secret behind my fading guise,

To whom the truth I did bestow.

You have met her many times,

She is fair and dear to me,

 You will see her also at the ball,

I will call her simply Brooksby.

A.F.

to tell v.

To my dearest Duchess,

Long have you waited for me,

Though wait you must no longer,

My identity will soon be free.

I have chosen to reveal myself,

At the greatly anticipated Ball,

It takes place a week this Friday,

And promises merriment for all.

 I'll be clad in cream and gold,

With shoes and bag to match,

And with a ribbon in my hair,

I hope your gaze to catch.

A.F.

 

to tempt v.

You may not recall Dear Duchess,

But I saw you the other night,

The temptation to tell was blinding,

Though I fought with all my might.

I cannot remember much,

Nor can I think upon your dress,

What I do remember is,

We were both an utter mess.

'Twas at the Manor Party,

On a settle 'pon a stair,

You lay across me and my cohorts,

Your head against my hair.

I do not wish to give all away,

And there is one clue I've witheld,

Of the nature of our friendship,

Which I fear I cannot tell.

For how we know eachother,

Will narrow your list of choice,

So for now I keep it to my chest;

I keep silent my corporeal voice.

A.F.

to sow v.

Many times we have met,

Though fewer times of late,

Yet one is vivid in my mind,

A thought I can't abate.

Dressed in black from head to toe,

Were you that fateful eve,

And I in cream and navy blue,

But you I did deceive.

Brown is my hair in colour,

And long is it in length;

What I lack in experience,

I make up for in strength.

If this is not enough,

To satiate your thirst,

You'll have to wait another day,

'Til March the 21st.

A.F.

to scorn v.

To my Dearest Duchess,

Your words do scorn my soul,

I apologise most humbly,

For so neglecting my role.

I wish to write you oft,

But have been busy of late,

Though what has brought us together,

Is definitely more than fate.

And so to you I write,

The first of many clues,

And slowly away my guise will melt,

'Til judgement day is due.

A.F.

to indulge v.

 I cannot tell her who I am,

For I'm abashed to say.

I'm not beheld as a dear friend,

Though I hope to be one day.

Supposing, though, that she should guess,

Through riddle and through rhyme,

I would not blush with red chagrin,

Only thank her for her time.

And so to my Dear Duchess,

Suffice without my name,

For now, at least, I ask of you;

Indulge my little game.

A.F.

to inspire v.

By witchcraft or by devilry,

Deceived by some fell veil,

D.S has inspired me,

To frolic in her tales.

A masked marauder I shall be,

'Til my secret is revealed,

Yet I remain a mystery,

My identity concealed.

A.F.