Random Acts of Poetry

Rapunzel- The True Story

Now the tale of Rapunzel has been told on this wise:
That an evil enchantress trapped the maiden fair,
That she lived in a tower as the witch’s prize,
And was rescued by means of her long, thick hair.

However, fairy tales are stories told to young girls,
To dream upon when their heads they lay down,
Of rosy-cheeked damsels with raven curls,
Of princes, and balls, and bejeweled white gowns.

But Rapunzel was none of the things that you’ve heard.
She went to the woods to be apart,
To seek respite from the tiresome herd,
To read her books, and find her heart.

The village voices drowned out dreams,
Their mouths full of things like crops and hogs.
Rapunzel sought peace by a rushing stream,
Its music - the birds, and the croaking of frogs.

She met him there, by the water’s course,
His eyes were the color of the morning mist.
His voice transfixed her, as if of mystical source,
Their souls entwined before e’er they’d kissed.

Her beautiful boy! she loved him well,
His face so fair, his voice hypnotic.
He could use his words to weave a spell,
With tales of travels to kingdoms exotic.

Then, one terrible day, her love failed to appear.
Rapunzel wept until evening’s curtain
Left her alone in darkness and fear.
“He will return,” she said. “Of this I am certain”

Yet day upon day, she sat alone.
When darkness fell, she did not stir.
Nevermore did she return home,
But waited faithfully for her love’s return.

As days went on she began to build,
Gathered stones and constructed walls,
With riverbank mud, the cracks she filled.
Rock upon rock, a tower strong and tall.

She sat in the tower, a watch she kept.
Her heart devoted, her love ever strong,
She wrote of him in her journals and wept,
Days enough that her hair grew quite long.

That part of the story, you see, is true.
Her hair grew as long as the tower was tall,
She gathered it, a thick braid of golden hue,
Strong enough to be scaled as a wall.

By now the villagers had heard her name,
The strange girl who lived in the tower room.
And men who sought out her beauty came,
Wooing Rapunzel, vying to be her groom.

But none won her heart, that was already claimed.
These suitors were dull and lacking in charm.
She yearned only for the love that burned as a flame,
The music of his voice, the warmth of his arms.

In despair, one day, Rapunzel cut off her hair,
She kept her plait though, in case he returned.
But at her window now she appeared with head bare,
Crying out with the pain of a true love spurned.

Over the years, the villagers told the tale,
Of the madwoman who lived in the wood,
Her voice trembling, her body frail,
Forever pitied, but never understood.

When they found her finally, at her life’s end,
Surrounded by her journals, her annals of love,
No one who read the poems she’d penned,
Knew passion as she did, nor felt the fire thereof.

Hence the stories of Rapunzel grew and grew,
As numerous and different as those who told them.
Each embellished, but just a wee bit true,
Like flowers newly grafted on a bare old stem.

However, fairy tales are stories told to young girls,
To dream upon when their heads they lay down,
Of rosy-cheeked damsels with raven curls,
Of princes, and balls, and bejeweled white gowns.

The true story of Rapunzel is not a fairy tale,
It’s the story of a heart, broken but true,
And faithfulness that would not fail,
Though it went unanswered her whole life through.


76 Lines

The Daily Poem
July 30 2020
Prompt: write a poem inspired by a myth or fairytale.