A Bitter Word on Regicide

regicide

Daft were the heralds
who had harkened too soon the
arrival of their
glass breaking Queen, with siren
songs of majestic victory.

For they had lobbied
their levity and bowed their
heads, to the tune of
that irreproachable name.
Clad in avarice green the

arrogant Queen was
deafened to the cries of her
subjects, and blinded
to the writing on the wall.
And with that she mis-stepped, much

to the peasants regret,
for she’d neglected the rise
of the Tsar. He had
poisoned her ear and
all who were near, now ready

to usurp his throne.
Under his tiny iron fist,
and Blackshirts’ command,
the kingdom then sank to grief.
And the tides did rise

as the peasants sighed
an ode to their arrogant
Queen.

****

My slightly delayed poem on the results of the recent election; and with this the political sphere, a place I once loved, has been irrefutibly marred. Now to find our places in these times of uncertainty. -MC

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