Mata Hari in love with love


glamour vintage mata hari

Margarethe Zelle was in love with love

Her heart was open wide


But really she had no taste in men

And because of this she died.

She’d escaped a husband who beat herMataHari dreams

Buried a child of her womb

Left a daughter to a father’s care

And rented herself a room



Somewhere in Paris near Monmatre

where  artists loved to paint

Impressions of  a city full of life

Of gardens and rivers and streams

Where laughter and song were rife

and all could follow their dreams.

salon gossipMata Hari prepares

Here she’d invent a life anew

become a law unto herself

Create a different persona too

as goddess of the dance

mata-hari dances

‘Mata Hari ‘would be her chosen name

Meaning the eye of dawn

She’d be the picture in the frame

She would be reborn.

mata hari's veilAbsintheTheGreenFairy

But then came the war and dawn became dusk

The skies of Paris turned grey

Soon all would be rolling in the muck

And the world would lost it’s way

Sometimes I forget

Mata Hari had a contract to dance

Surely she would thrive

After all she was the darling of France

kirchner - puppet

For France she must stay alive

She adored those men in uniform

Took no heed of their flags

And was caught up in a mortal storm


Chased by body bags



boudoir collage

Her contract cancelled to dance in Berlin

her jewels & furs sent away

How could she know the mess she was in?

Or comprehend  the state of play

she would deal with whoever could pay

Berlin postcard 1910

To help her maintain her style

Whatever little somethings they had to say

Could be garnished with her smile

She was certain that she knew her craftmata_hari wrapLove is in the cards

and that information she sold

would prove the huns completely daft

as the information was old

One night when Moscow came to call

La robe de boudoir

Mata Hari lost her heart

When she heard of his untimely fall

She pleaded for a new start

The French  sent her to his hospital bed

where a German battle would be won

Leaving twenty thousand French troops  deadcuist trenches

Near the fields at Verdunn

Back in Paris she was thrown in jail

Then faced the firing squad

blowing kisses through the bullet hail

corridor of St Lazare

With one last kiss to god

When you remember Anzac Daygraves Belgian post card

Think of the eye of dawn

Just another woman who’s had to pay

For someone els’s war.

For ‘Eye Of The Dawn’ Renee Dallow

© 8/4/2013

(Hybiscus Bloom )

French Hibiscus


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