On the field
in front of Traitor’s Gate
they hacked my head off.
They probably stuck it on a pole
so the horror of it all
would live on in people’s memory.
I couldn’t care less for any of that
anymore: my head’s off, somewhere down there
while I’m up here, observing…
Shall we say detachedly?
Or would that be distasteful?
You can’t taste anything with your head off except magic.
© Experimentsinfiction 2020, All Rights Reserved
Sarah is hosting at dVerse tonight, and she has given us a set of 3-word prompts, each one corresponding to a location in London on the website what3words.
I chose ‘field.memory.magic’ as these three words spoke to me most strongly of my experience of London. I didn’t expect them to take me to such a dark place as Traitor’s Gate. Appropriate for Halloween, at least!
Note on accuracy: there’s no field in front of traitor’s gate, unless you’re looking at the gate from the inside the tower complex, having already passed through it.
Experiments in Fiction 
Great words – and what a place they took you to! I love the devil-may-care attitude of this poem, Ingrid:
‘I couldn’t care less for any of that
anymore: my head’s off, somewhere down there’
and the final line is brilliant!
It made me think of the BBC1 comedy ‘Ghosts’ by the people who made ‘Horrible Histories’ – there’s a head without a body – very funny.
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I think my words reflected my mood at the time of writing! Pleased you enjoyed it, Kim.
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I’m beginning to recognise your style, Ingrid. As Kim says, it’s the attitude. Like that raven.
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Thank you, Jane – I’m flattered!
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It’s a good thing to have a style and a voice :)
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Oh I like this… and the perspective of the beheaded not caring less. I like the thought that he speaks from inside the raven…
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I think once your head has been removed there is really no point caring about anything much!
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Very darkly written and gothic with mesmerizing imagery. I love every word. It’s wow. It’s incredible.
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I’m pleased you enjoyed it, Lucy – think I was in a dark mood when I wrote it!
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Ingrid, I hate to say I’m delighted by such a dark poem, but the idea of the traitor’s soul now dwelling in a wizened magical crow in the afterworld does just that.
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I’m so pleased you enjoyed it! I was having a dark day, and I guess that came out in my writing.
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It happens ;)
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Nice, I’m seeing Anne Boleyn reincarnated as a corvid (raven, crow, rook, chuff, magpies…)
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This could be the case!
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I too love the attitude in this poem, Ingrid and was blown away by “Shall we say detachedly? Or would that be distasteful?”
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A bit of gallows humour, I suppose!
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Beheading as the fashion for a time, perhaps more humane than poison gas or lynching or electrocution.
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Yes, unfortunately those are still in vogue in certain places…
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Well you “did” Traitor’s Gate quite proper, I’d say!
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Thank you, Beverly!
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This is magically good. I love darkness as: so the horror of it all
would live on in people’s memory.
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As Voltaire said: ‘pour encourager les autres’
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I like the humor in this rather dark poem!
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Thanks, it’s dark humour, but humour nonetheless!
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oh my goodness you took this to an even darker place than I did, well done!
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I was having a dark day 😅
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best to get it out … take care!
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kaykuala
Very powerful and not totally unexpected with trying times these days Ingrid Out of the usual and a dark poem but bravely cut. Great thinking Ma’am!
Hank
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Thank you so much – I guess some of my inner darkness came out here!
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We chose the same words! I like your take from the perspective of the beheaded (and the raven). Why would they care? I really like that last line, and the except magic added on.
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These words really leapt off the page to me. London is a magical kind of place!
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Thank you so much, Ingrid! I was only there once as a child, but I’ve read a lot about it. 😀
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Yikes, a bloody good job at keeping your head in the game, Ingrid!!
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Thanks, Lynn – luckily I still have mine on for now!
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I imagine the raven sitting on those shoulders, acting as a medium for the body.
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It’s a haunting idea, isn’t it?
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Gallows humour I relate to. Cleverly written Ingrid. Shall we say detachedly? Perfect…..
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What a great ending, Ingrid. Love this poem!
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Thank you so much!
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