This page contains two original poems about Rapunzel that you’ll find only at Shadow of Iris. The first contains rhyming couplets, and is from the viewpoint of Rapunzel’s father. It follows an older version of the tale, that predates the Brothers Grimm version—and explains Rapunzel’s namesake—yet at the same time it veers off into new territory.
Our second poem is very abstract and experimental, making use of free verse, it plays off latent ideas in the story. Like all fairy tales, we feel Rapunzel contains many deep archetypes worth exploring, and we very much hope to add more to this page in the future. Perhaps a poem from the viewpoint of Dame Gothel or a even poem about Rapunzel having a bad hair day!
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Gathering Rapunzel, a poem
by Papa Triste
I thought that surely she would die,
And you know, I wasn’t ready to say good bye—
My pregnant wife, she had a craving
For rapunzel—she was literally raving.
From her brow I wiped little beads of sweat;
Oh, how I begged her not to fret—
I told her I would do what it took
I would get the rapunzel by hook or by crook.
So that night at just about the witch’s hour,
In the witch’s garden, I hunted for that flower—
Just a little bit of blossoming rapunzel
So that I might save my beauty belle.
My eyes I closed, and I followed my nose,
Cinnamon I smelled, then some onion rose—
I followed the scent, until it was right there,
Rapunzel, a plant as expensive as it was rare.
I took out my clippers and began to crop,
When who should appear, but that witch on top—
I froze from my head to my toes,
Then took a breath and rose.
In black sleek silk she demurely dressed—
So curvy was her body, it left me possessed
As she leaned in on me, my God, those hips
She whispered a message through sensual lips—
“You’re no better than a thief”, she said,
“And you know, now, you’re no better than dead.”
She sidled up to me, I blushed in a white heat,
In the dark of night, I was as red as beet.
You won’t believe it, but she leaned in
And slowly kissed me, then said with a grin,
“I’ll make you a deal, three lives for one—,
Come on, now—let’s have some fun.”
I left the garden, by little bag filled, even brimming—
Rapunzel, I had in plenty, but my pride, it was dimming;
My wife was sheer joy, and she recovered fully,
She named the baby Rapunzel, it left me feeling woolly.
A year went by, and I thought I’d forgotten it all
when late one night, I found her in our hall
That sexy evil witch had come to claim
That which I had to admit was her fair game—
My wife she cried, all that next day,
How could I explain, we’d both been prey;
Foolishly I tried, but all the more she cried;
Oh, how she wished, she’d never been my bride.
Rapunzel lost in time, a poem
by Polly Morfuss
She looked as if
she’d eaten both
the mouse and the cheese.
Rapunzel braids her long hair
humming in low tones;
she dreams of a prince
lost in time.
She looked as if
she’d just remembered
that her best friend
had lied to her the night before.
The shimmer of a glowing cat
as it appears and disappears
against the black of midnight;
its eyes, each the color of sapphire.
She looked as if
she knew just
what you were thinking.
Put your pale arms around my neck.
Let me hold your heart like a flower
lest it bloom and collapse.
— Anne Sexton, “Rapunzel”
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