Juliet Ligon Poet Rhyme

The Blood of An Englishman

I smell the blood of an Englishman
fresh from the womb--- umbilical snip.
Ingloriously clad, illegitimate lad,
appointed for leadership.

I smell the blood of an Englishman,
and, lo, his enemies are slain.
High on the saddle, mighty in battle,
as England's new king he would reign.

I smell the blood of an Englishman,
the odor of bloat and remorse.
With moans and cries, no more he'd arise;
The clock is a powerful force.

I smell the blood of an Englishman;
William's vigor flows through my veins.
His blood is my own, line of the throne---
one of more than five million names.

6-30-23

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Arthur Vaso September 25, 2023 at 9:29 PM Beautiful poetry, intriguing and makes one ponder life.

Gershon Wolf August 27, 2023 at 7:50 PM William of Orange beats the daylights out of Bloody Mary of Scots --- but what's in a name anyway?! ~ Hen Ry and Etta

The Situation July 30, 2023 at 4:31 PM The quote of the Giant. But the giant is real. It could be his country, His family of just his group. This poem reminds us there is this thing called HOPE. Juliet Ligon August 18, 2023 at 7:02 PM I hope this wasn't too confusing. The quote is from the giant, but I went a different direction with it. Doing ancestry research, I found out that I'm related to William The Conqueror, but then again, so are over 5 million others, according to Google.

Jack Horne July 15, 2023 at 6:24 AM very thoughtful write here Juliet Ligon August 18, 2023 at 7:02 PM Thanks, Jack.