Soup kitchens of the Bowery clothe and feed a queen:

my lazy bones, my stray thoughts need a queen.


Elizabeth wrote her sonnets in the blood

of martyred papists—now, let's read a queen!


My lips and fingers pray a chaplet to the Virgin,

mirror of patience, seat of wisdom; daily, I bead a queen.


I'm quite the green thumb at royal gardening!

I till the soil and scatter; indeed, I seed a queen.


On bent knee, I gaze up into my love's fierce eyes

wise of me: to hush, to listen, to heed a queen.


Bugger the patriarchy (gently!) with a cactus:

I ask you, who's most suited to lead? A queen!

Poetry by Uncle Meridian The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 130 times
Written on 2022-01-09 at 09:59

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MetaPoetics The PoetBay support member heart!
I admire this experimental ghazal and the finely crafted couplets. Bravo!

one trick pony The PoetBay support member heart!
You stretch the boundaries, and enrich the experience.


Safe Keeping
by Uncle Meridian