125. Monarch

Beams creak in light sway,
shorn of cover, fears allayed,
gentle snug of mist embraced,
murmuring whispers, awaiting to be slay

Shoulders strong, many batterings bore,
flowers beauteous air once wore,
weather beastly into the bliss tore,
a monster transformed; night came. Came gore.

Head held, crown bejewelled,
now matted mop akin,
courts syllogistic, once a-swell,
now muddy bottom, vacant a well

Sheen faded, blisters dot the remains,
had only if off preen refrained,
from self-servitude only if abstained,

Monarch! Today you’d be un-pained.

 

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s