Sunday, January 28, 2007

Of Blue Blood and Purple Robes

The King was king,
For many a year;
And was as senile,
As the
infamos Lear.

The man was young,
And quite well read;
But his words kept pace
With the thoughts in his head.

The man and the King,
Through dark
chance met;
A meeting that led each,
To his untimely death.

The man managed skillfully,
To piss the King off;
The Royal Guard was alert,
The King just
had to cough.

The man was dragged.
To the large stone block;
And to the city square,
The people began to flock.

The man lay still,
Weighed down by the chains;
The King mounted the elephant,
In his hands, the reins.

The elephant was well trained,
And was quite old;
And on that fateful day,
It did as it was told.

The King rode up,
And the words, he said;
And the elephant, well trained,
Stepped on the man’s head.

What happened next,
Was rather a blur;
But it was
enough,
To cause quite a stir.

As the skull exploded,
A large, sharp shard,
Pierced the elephant’s sole,
As the
skull is quite hard.

The elephant reared,
And the King fell off;
The people later said,
“He died of a cough.”

The King lay on the street.
Dazed, as if under a spell;
He didn’t see the elephant stumble.
And on him, it fell.

The elephant died,
From the shock of the fall;
The King died too,
From the irony of it all.

The Royal Guard did appear,
In neat and
ordered droves;
And pulled the beast off the smear
Of Blue Blood and Purple Robes.

10 comments:

the psycho guy said...

Nice, very nice, indeed.

The king, and man, they met
Upon a battlefield
The man, he wore a monkey-cap
The king, he had his shield

The king he cried out loud
"You stupid ass," he said
"You had better step down
I'll chop your bloody head

I'll feed you to the crows
I'll drink up all your blood
I'll wear your monkey-cap
And, stomp you in the mud

For now you can't escape
You stupid little twit
I'll put you on the rack
And, stretch you bit by bit

You'll beg for mercy then
You stupid little thing
And then you'll know the anger
Of a mighty King."

Just then he heard a voice
Whisper behind his ear
The voice of his minister
Shivering with fear.

And then the king looked up
And said "I will not fight.
You are so kind, and strong and brave
I must make you a knight.

Oh, come, let us go home"
The king, he said, and smiled
"The princess waits for you
She's pregnant with your child."

And so the battle ended
And, the man, he won
His gorgeous little wife
Bore him a gorgeous son.

And everyone was happy,
Everything was great
And .... oops, I've got to go now
'Cos I'm getting late!

Até said...

Excellent!

The both of you.

Lúthien Táralóm said...

Thanks.
I like the last bit of your poem Maurice.

saptarshi said...

@ Luthien: Do you realise that you are writing real nonsense literature? And let me tell you I have tried and failed to write such poems.Too good.

Ancalagon The Black said...

good work...

Ancalagon The Black said...

I like the poem. I am afraid I cannot understand poetry at all.

Hence, simple easy to understand rhymes appeal more to me than anything.

And this I can understand without much effort.

Good Work.

Write some more. It would be good to see things like these in a blogosphere populated with existentialist and ecclectic wannabe poetry.

saptarshi said...

Ah.I know a secret.I am itching to tell everyone.But I am not permitted to.oof!

Lúthien Táralóm said...

Thanks Shion. I'll tell Feanaro.

@ Saptarshi - Thank you. What secret? *grins*

Arjun said...

nice.

Lúthien Táralóm said...

@ Arjun - Thanks. I liked it too. :P