Four and Twenty Blackbirds
A chef of great talent and skill was he
To construct this dish of pastry and bird
Presented to the king with pomp and glee
Only for it to take wing without a word
The king, cared he not for pies and such,
Spending his time in totaling his books
The queen, her lips no birdy pie would touch,
Bread and honey, she ordered from the cooks
The blackbirds, released from doughy prison cell,
With all the world to wander in free flight
Chose now to persecute one lonely belle
Giving her tender nose a vicious bite
We, who tormented in the past, may be
As cruel to others when we are set free
I can’t believe you wrote something this good as the last poem! Brilliant!
It was something I was working on throughout the night. So long as I had a prompt I could address, I kept shifting it to the back burner.
The last couplet still needs work, but thanks for the encouragement!
This is really gorgeous. I think it works as-is, but I understand the desire to get things exact.
Truly a great poem! Deserves all the praise!