'Twas long before a Shakespeare play was quilled,
the fifth and sixth of deadly sins would prey
then dance with pride as innocence was spilled
upon the pyre where dastard evil plays.
The wicked toil around their witch's brew
of lies perceived as truths among their ilk
to spill the sloppy swill like gluttoned shrews
and cool its burning sting with sour milk.
The lust for power's fruit within their grasp
as greed consumed already slothen minds
too faint for God to hear when last they gasp,
too late to save a soul so ill entwined.
Though history repeats these truthful stings
it seems to barely slow the march of kings.
(This is an English Sonnet)
Listed under Rhyme for submittal to Nina's contest
Oct 13, 2019
Copyright © craig cornish | Year Posted 2019