The Royal Peasant
His belly full of absinthe
His nervous system writhed
as he looked up to the heavens
cachinnation in his eyes
The juice from plums of damson
trickled down as purple blood
as he fell, the kulak jester
face first flat into the mud
Aromatic orange berries
filled the night right up with spice
whilst the hyalite 'round his finger
sparked itself up to delight
The nadir answered back his laugh
with rain and sleet and hail
as we leave the jester lonely
sleeping in his vinic jail~
Copyright © Tatyana Carney | Year Posted 2006
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