OMG 😱 I was struck paralyzed with wonder and beauty. I have no words to express but to say I’ll be reading it again and again embracing that beautiful expression and tragedy 🎭 of Women in history.
Gloria, I've watched a lot of movies and read a lot of books about the Women of the Elizabethan times, but none have touched me like your poem I read this morning ! I'm new to substack and would like to read all your other posts and/or books. Please advise how I find them.
Thanks SO MUCH ! I'll also subscribe to your substack.
Sitting out in my garden at 6:30 in the morning I read your beautiful writing. I felt the tears for those queens, for all women actually, while still waiting for the fates of our daughters and granddaughters as powerful white men still control their noose.
Loved this!! It reminded me of the musical "Six". I have, for many years, been a student of English History. I have always been particularly interested in the time period of Henry VIII and, yes, the women who shaped history as they married him. Thank you!
Ruth, we've seen SIX twice in NYC and are catching it again this week in London. I loved the show, but after walking through Hampton Court Palace and seeing where those six women lived, their stories have left a lasting imprint on my heart.
I thoroughly understand! I was at Hampton Court in 2015. We arrived near closing time, and I wish we could have been there longer. I hope to go again, some day. A major part of my personal heritage is English/Scottish/Irish. Perhaps that is why I am so interested. My other interest is due to being a woman and learning more all the time about the influence women have had throughout history.
I'm reminded of Rick Wakeman's album "Six Wies of Henry VIII" that came out in the early 70's. It still resonates in my head. So I'm going to go find it....
I love you Gloria.
You're words calm me, inspire me, remind me of the strength and beauty we carry as women, as queens in our own right no matter our place in this world, of the way words carry meaning and love.
The odd thing is, Henry VIII was surrounded by strong women, his mother , Elizabeth of York, his 2 sisters, Mary, who married H's best friend without telling him, and Margaret, who became Queen of Scotland, and the ancestor of all English monarchs from James I to Charles III, and especially Margaret Beaufort, his very strong-willed gandma.
It's indeed fascinating to consider how Henry VIII was surrounded by such formidable women throughout his life, yet his legacy is so often defined by his tumultuous relationships with the women he married and, ultimately, his ruthless quest for a male heir. The strong, influential women in his family—his mother, sisters, and grandmother—undoubtedly shaped the world in which he lived and ruled, but this raises a thought-provoking question: how did their strength and independence influence, or perhaps even exacerbate, Henry's own insecurities and decisions as king?
One might wonder whether Henry’s obsession with securing a male heir and his need to assert dominance in his marriages were, in part, reactions to the powerful women in his life. Perhaps, despite their influence, or because of it, Henry felt compelled to forge a legacy of his own—one that ultimately led him down a path of destruction and tyranny. The strong women in his orbit may have represented both a source of strength and a mirror to his own vulnerabilities.
Moreover, the irony of his story lies in the fact that, despite his desperate efforts to establish a male succession, it was his daughter, Elizabeth I, who would go on to become one of the most powerful and celebrated monarchs in English history. This, in turn, begs the question: was Henry’s reign, with all its turmoil, a necessary prelude to Elizabeth's? Did the presence and influence of these strong women around him, coupled with his own actions, inadvertently pave the way for a future where a woman could reign with such authority and success?
Reflecting on Henry VIII’s life through the lens of the strong women who surrounded him invites us to reconsider the traditional narratives of power and legacy. It challenges us to think about how strength and influence are wielded not just by those who sit on the throne, but also by those who shape the ruler from behind the scenes.
I sit alone in the chill and dimméd light of mine chamber, the shadows dancing upon the stone walls as though they whisper secrets only I might hear. Mine fingers trace the edges of the parchment before me, but mine mind wandereth elsewhere, consumed by thoughts darker than the ink that staineth mine hands.
I see him, the man who once profess'd to love me, who did rend his kingdom asunder for mine sake, and now seeketh to destroy me. Henry. His name is a poison upon mine tongue, and I wonder how it would feel to see the life drain from his eyes, as he hath drained mine own.
A dagger, perchance? I could plunge it deep into his breast as he doth slumber, the blade sinking into his treacherous heart. I do imagine the warmth of his blood upon mine hands, a satisfaction so twisted it doth nigh frighten me. Or mayhap I would tarry until he looketh upon me, until he doth see the resolve in mine eyes and understandeth that I shall not go quietly. Nay, I shall not be another silent, forgotten victim of his cruelty.
But then... what of myself? I am no fool. I know full well the price of such treason. They would not rest until I was found and brought to the selfsame fate. But I would not give them the pleasure of seeing me cower. Nay, I would take mine life by mine own hand, denying them the spectacle they so crave.
And Elizabeth... mine sweet, fierce Elizabeth. I see the fire in her eyes, the selfsame fire that doth burn within me. She shall survive, of this I am certain. She is stronger than they can imagine, stronger even than I have been. She shall not be cowed by them. She shall rise, a queen in her own right, and they shall all bow before her.
The thought doth bring a smile to mine lips, though it be tinged with sorrow. To leave her would be a pain unlike any other, but I would do it, if it meant she might live. I see her, standing tall, her crown glinting in the sunlight, her eyes blazing with a fire they cannot extinguish.
Macabre thoughts, most certainly. But what else remaineth for me now, in this world where the only truth is betrayal and the only certainty is death? I can feel it closing in upon me, like a shroud, and yet I am not afeared. If this be the end, then let it be on mine own terms.
But still... I wonder... if I were to gut him, would I feel relief? Would I find peace in those final moments? Or would I simply be trading one agony for another?
I may never know. But these thoughts, these dark fantasies, they are mine own. They are the last remnants of control I have left in this world that seeketh to break me.
And as I sit here, the night growing darker still, I do whisper a prayer to whatever gods may be listening: Let Elizabeth be mine vengeance. Let her live, let her burn with the fire I can no longer hold. And let them all pay for what they have done.
If you don’t mind, I will be sending this to Scotland. There are some family there at the moment that will revel in the beauty of what you have done. Thank you!
I have read both fiction and non-fiction about Anne. While we can never really know, from all I've read, I would say that Anne was more ambitious than anything. That being said, using her "womanly wiles" was the best tool she had to achieve what she wanted. She had already seen what happened to her sister when marriage was not part of the deal. She wanted the title and the power of the crown. She had been to French Court and that added "mystery" and "seductiveness" to her person. So, my guess is she did play at the seductress in order to obtain what she wanted. Unfortunately, after many years, when she obtained her goal, her inability to have a son was her undoing. Although, to my way of thinking, she obtained it all through her daughter Elizabeth I.
Gloria, as a high school senior in 1965, I played Anne Boleyn in the play “Royal Gambit” - a metaphysical portrait of Henry VIII and the six women he married. Only seven actors in the entire five act play. Sixty years later I can still recall much of my five minute soliloquy. I can’t begin to express how much I enjoyed your poetic portraits of the women in Henry’s life. The play contrasts Henry with modern liberal thought and concludes that humanism is dead in the 20th century. German author, Kirkegård-esque. It was performed at the Walla Walla little theater whose director lived across the street from me - thus my casting in an adult themed play I hardly understood until many years later.
Your reflection on playing Anne Boleyn in "Royal Gambit" is truly captivating, not just as a personal memory, but as a window into how art and literature continue to resonate with us long after the curtain falls. It's fascinating how these early experiences, especially those that may have seemed beyond our grasp at the time, can shape our understanding as we grow older. The idea that you carried that five-minute soliloquy with you for sixty years speaks volumes about the power of theater and its ability to etch moments into our consciousness.
Your mention of the play contrasting Henry VIII with modern liberal thought, and the conclusion that humanism is dead in the 20th century, strikes a profound chord. It invites us to consider how historical narratives are used to critique or reflect upon contemporary society. The fact that this play, written by a German author and imbued with Kierkegaard-like existential themes, was performed in a small theater in Walla Walla during the 1960s also highlights the universality of these questions across time and space. It’s a reminder of how art transcends its immediate context to address timeless human concerns.
I can’t help but wonder how your understanding of the play and its themes has evolved over the years. What once seemed like an adult-themed enigma has, I imagine, unfolded into a richer, more complex tapestry as you've lived through the very history and cultural shifts the play critiques. Your experience emphasizes how our interpretations of art are not static but grow with us, deepening as we accumulate more of life’s experiences. It's as if the play continues to "perform" in your mind, offering new insights as you reflect on the intersection of history, art, and personal experience.
In many ways, your memory of this role, and how it has lingered with you, underscores the very essence of humanism—the capacity for art to speak to the core of human experience, to evolve with us, and to prompt us to continually question and reinterpret the world around us.
Absolutely stunning MissGloria loved this so much
OMG 😱 I was struck paralyzed with wonder and beauty. I have no words to express but to say I’ll be reading it again and again embracing that beautiful expression and tragedy 🎭 of Women in history.
Jerry Temeyer
I have written and written and written about these six women nonstop since we left the palace grounds.
Gloria, I've watched a lot of movies and read a lot of books about the Women of the Elizabethan times, but none have touched me like your poem I read this morning ! I'm new to substack and would like to read all your other posts and/or books. Please advise how I find them.
Thanks SO MUCH ! I'll also subscribe to your substack.
Jerry
Thanks to Henry, they are archetypes.
💙 love you!
Sitting out in my garden at 6:30 in the morning I read your beautiful writing. I felt the tears for those queens, for all women actually, while still waiting for the fates of our daughters and granddaughters as powerful white men still control their noose.
Amen
Stunning picture of the King's whims.
You bring to life, the harrowing days of being a Queen.
Disposable women, not even a queen is safe.
Loved this!! It reminded me of the musical "Six". I have, for many years, been a student of English History. I have always been particularly interested in the time period of Henry VIII and, yes, the women who shaped history as they married him. Thank you!
Ruth, we've seen SIX twice in NYC and are catching it again this week in London. I loved the show, but after walking through Hampton Court Palace and seeing where those six women lived, their stories have left a lasting imprint on my heart.
I thoroughly understand! I was at Hampton Court in 2015. We arrived near closing time, and I wish we could have been there longer. I hope to go again, some day. A major part of my personal heritage is English/Scottish/Irish. Perhaps that is why I am so interested. My other interest is due to being a woman and learning more all the time about the influence women have had throughout history.
I would want to go again, sit in a gallery nook and write about the beautiful paintings.
I'm reminded of Rick Wakeman's album "Six Wies of Henry VIII" that came out in the early 70's. It still resonates in my head. So I'm going to go find it....
I love you Gloria.
You're words calm me, inspire me, remind me of the strength and beauty we carry as women, as queens in our own right no matter our place in this world, of the way words carry meaning and love.
My gratitude for you is great. 🖤
Thank you, Morgan. ❌🅾️❌
I have been thinking about this lots recently; how long it has been that rich, powerful men have desired youthful young girl under them.
It is high time for this world to change.
Thank you for this summary of women who mattered.
Walking the hallway where Katherine Howard ran for her life screaming and crying for someone, anyone to save her was utterly heartbreaking.
I do hope the monstrous Henry is suffering hellfire and damnation to this very day.
Thank you for such a beautiful poem!
Louise Queen of Prussia
One of two beautiful sisters
From Magdeburg
Rallied the Prussian Army
Against Napoleon
While her uxorious husband
Frederick William III
Dithered and wondered
When Napoleon smashed
Poor Prussia at Jena 1806
With Hegel watching
Bonaparte mocked her
As a conniving wench
To the laughter of his soldiers
She dies in her thirties
In 1810
Emperor of Russia
Alexander I
In love with her
Suspected the French Dictator
Had her poisoned
By his secret police
Frederick William III
Devastated by her death
Kept her bedroom exactly as it was
After she died
How devastating and yet how beautifully you described her.
Powerful.
Thank you, Carol.
The odd thing is, Henry VIII was surrounded by strong women, his mother , Elizabeth of York, his 2 sisters, Mary, who married H's best friend without telling him, and Margaret, who became Queen of Scotland, and the ancestor of all English monarchs from James I to Charles III, and especially Margaret Beaufort, his very strong-willed gandma.
It's indeed fascinating to consider how Henry VIII was surrounded by such formidable women throughout his life, yet his legacy is so often defined by his tumultuous relationships with the women he married and, ultimately, his ruthless quest for a male heir. The strong, influential women in his family—his mother, sisters, and grandmother—undoubtedly shaped the world in which he lived and ruled, but this raises a thought-provoking question: how did their strength and independence influence, or perhaps even exacerbate, Henry's own insecurities and decisions as king?
One might wonder whether Henry’s obsession with securing a male heir and his need to assert dominance in his marriages were, in part, reactions to the powerful women in his life. Perhaps, despite their influence, or because of it, Henry felt compelled to forge a legacy of his own—one that ultimately led him down a path of destruction and tyranny. The strong women in his orbit may have represented both a source of strength and a mirror to his own vulnerabilities.
Moreover, the irony of his story lies in the fact that, despite his desperate efforts to establish a male succession, it was his daughter, Elizabeth I, who would go on to become one of the most powerful and celebrated monarchs in English history. This, in turn, begs the question: was Henry’s reign, with all its turmoil, a necessary prelude to Elizabeth's? Did the presence and influence of these strong women around him, coupled with his own actions, inadvertently pave the way for a future where a woman could reign with such authority and success?
Reflecting on Henry VIII’s life through the lens of the strong women who surrounded him invites us to reconsider the traditional narratives of power and legacy. It challenges us to think about how strength and influence are wielded not just by those who sit on the throne, but also by those who shape the ruler from behind the scenes.
As other readers have said, I too felt the tears, heartbreak and fear of these women. So beautifully presented Gloria. Thank you
Teyani, I am now fantasizing about ways one of them could have gutted him and then taken her own life on her own terms.
Macabre, most certainly.
I think there is a new story there! Tell it!😎
I sit alone in the chill and dimméd light of mine chamber, the shadows dancing upon the stone walls as though they whisper secrets only I might hear. Mine fingers trace the edges of the parchment before me, but mine mind wandereth elsewhere, consumed by thoughts darker than the ink that staineth mine hands.
I see him, the man who once profess'd to love me, who did rend his kingdom asunder for mine sake, and now seeketh to destroy me. Henry. His name is a poison upon mine tongue, and I wonder how it would feel to see the life drain from his eyes, as he hath drained mine own.
A dagger, perchance? I could plunge it deep into his breast as he doth slumber, the blade sinking into his treacherous heart. I do imagine the warmth of his blood upon mine hands, a satisfaction so twisted it doth nigh frighten me. Or mayhap I would tarry until he looketh upon me, until he doth see the resolve in mine eyes and understandeth that I shall not go quietly. Nay, I shall not be another silent, forgotten victim of his cruelty.
But then... what of myself? I am no fool. I know full well the price of such treason. They would not rest until I was found and brought to the selfsame fate. But I would not give them the pleasure of seeing me cower. Nay, I would take mine life by mine own hand, denying them the spectacle they so crave.
And Elizabeth... mine sweet, fierce Elizabeth. I see the fire in her eyes, the selfsame fire that doth burn within me. She shall survive, of this I am certain. She is stronger than they can imagine, stronger even than I have been. She shall not be cowed by them. She shall rise, a queen in her own right, and they shall all bow before her.
The thought doth bring a smile to mine lips, though it be tinged with sorrow. To leave her would be a pain unlike any other, but I would do it, if it meant she might live. I see her, standing tall, her crown glinting in the sunlight, her eyes blazing with a fire they cannot extinguish.
Macabre thoughts, most certainly. But what else remaineth for me now, in this world where the only truth is betrayal and the only certainty is death? I can feel it closing in upon me, like a shroud, and yet I am not afeared. If this be the end, then let it be on mine own terms.
But still... I wonder... if I were to gut him, would I feel relief? Would I find peace in those final moments? Or would I simply be trading one agony for another?
I may never know. But these thoughts, these dark fantasies, they are mine own. They are the last remnants of control I have left in this world that seeketh to break me.
And as I sit here, the night growing darker still, I do whisper a prayer to whatever gods may be listening: Let Elizabeth be mine vengeance. Let her live, let her burn with the fire I can no longer hold. And let them all pay for what they have done.
Superb❣️
Thanks! I doubt she would have had a chance to nick a dagger.
If you don’t mind, I will be sending this to Scotland. There are some family there at the moment that will revel in the beauty of what you have done. Thank you!
I would love that. Please let me know what they think of the poem.
this is great. i've been wondering lately if anne bolyn really was the seductress they made her out to be, or if that's the male version of history.
I have read both fiction and non-fiction about Anne. While we can never really know, from all I've read, I would say that Anne was more ambitious than anything. That being said, using her "womanly wiles" was the best tool she had to achieve what she wanted. She had already seen what happened to her sister when marriage was not part of the deal. She wanted the title and the power of the crown. She had been to French Court and that added "mystery" and "seductiveness" to her person. So, my guess is she did play at the seductress in order to obtain what she wanted. Unfortunately, after many years, when she obtained her goal, her inability to have a son was her undoing. Although, to my way of thinking, she obtained it all through her daughter Elizabeth I.
Gloria, as a high school senior in 1965, I played Anne Boleyn in the play “Royal Gambit” - a metaphysical portrait of Henry VIII and the six women he married. Only seven actors in the entire five act play. Sixty years later I can still recall much of my five minute soliloquy. I can’t begin to express how much I enjoyed your poetic portraits of the women in Henry’s life. The play contrasts Henry with modern liberal thought and concludes that humanism is dead in the 20th century. German author, Kirkegård-esque. It was performed at the Walla Walla little theater whose director lived across the street from me - thus my casting in an adult themed play I hardly understood until many years later.
Your reflection on playing Anne Boleyn in "Royal Gambit" is truly captivating, not just as a personal memory, but as a window into how art and literature continue to resonate with us long after the curtain falls. It's fascinating how these early experiences, especially those that may have seemed beyond our grasp at the time, can shape our understanding as we grow older. The idea that you carried that five-minute soliloquy with you for sixty years speaks volumes about the power of theater and its ability to etch moments into our consciousness.
Your mention of the play contrasting Henry VIII with modern liberal thought, and the conclusion that humanism is dead in the 20th century, strikes a profound chord. It invites us to consider how historical narratives are used to critique or reflect upon contemporary society. The fact that this play, written by a German author and imbued with Kierkegaard-like existential themes, was performed in a small theater in Walla Walla during the 1960s also highlights the universality of these questions across time and space. It’s a reminder of how art transcends its immediate context to address timeless human concerns.
I can’t help but wonder how your understanding of the play and its themes has evolved over the years. What once seemed like an adult-themed enigma has, I imagine, unfolded into a richer, more complex tapestry as you've lived through the very history and cultural shifts the play critiques. Your experience emphasizes how our interpretations of art are not static but grow with us, deepening as we accumulate more of life’s experiences. It's as if the play continues to "perform" in your mind, offering new insights as you reflect on the intersection of history, art, and personal experience.
In many ways, your memory of this role, and how it has lingered with you, underscores the very essence of humanism—the capacity for art to speak to the core of human experience, to evolve with us, and to prompt us to continually question and reinterpret the world around us.
Just WOW. How on earth did you accurately capture so much from so brief a comment? I’m so glad to know you, a late in life gift.
I graduated high school in 1969 so I can relate with your experiences. 🩵 It is very, very nice to meet you as well.
Well written. Well said.
Thank you, Shirley.
YOU are incredibly talented!
I loved this one so very much!
Thank you. 🙏 That means so much to me.
Gloria, I would like to hear you read this sometime.
Malcolm, I'll be recording the poem next week when I'm back home. I hope I can do it justice.
You can rehearse in the meantime. All the best to you.