Best Boleyn Poems
She stands all alone in a court full of men
An innocent woman condemned
The charges are great, she's resigned to her fate
She knows she will die in the end
Though she is in despair she's standing tall there
She knows she has committed no sin
But these cowards, these men will find her guilty and then
Seal the fate of Queen Anne Boleyn
On the 19th of May that terrible day
From her room in the tower she's taken
If they thought she cry and plead not to die
They were very mistaken
With words clear and strong she denies any wrong
With no quiver or break in her voice
The swordsman stands by with a tear in his eye
But he knows that he has no choice
One swing of the sword as she praises the Lord
And she's gone in the middle of prayer
The King is away he is hunting that day
Its clear that he doesn't care
That sword gave her peace it gave her release
It finished the fear and the pain
“Death rocked her to sleep and her memory we keep
Each May again and again
Anne's death wasn't in vain though she suffered great pain
Her daughter went on to be
A wonderful Queen, the best there has been
That was her great legacy.
"Noli Me Tangere"--Ode to Anne Boleyn
Beguiling and strong willed,
Thick hair and black eyes--
Average beauty at best--
Maneuvered Court, so skilled
(Though taunted by their lies)
The King you put to test.
Oh, dear Anne Boleyn!
You chose not your fate.
'Twas your father's sins:
Greed would not abate
His ambitious yens.
So, Queen you were--
Amid the hate--
The peoples' cur;
King's sonless mate
Bearing one
Queen to be
Of England's
Future
'Golden
Age'.
~deborah burch©
07/02/2012
Tis true you swore an oath
A contract intended for both
From saints pure minds you did quoth
Your duplicitous mind, truant heart did me betroth
My nubile furrow plowed for fecund growth
Yet your fertile stream my shallow root did not clothe
My fruitless womb your evil spirit did loathe
I came across a tale one day
about a hatchet on display
a crowd be had an oddity
I see no man but only me
mind pays less, its tales interest
as time goes fast like growing grass
the tailor comes and sits right down
the storyteller's not around
then, frightfully in front of me
fate dealt a blow, the hatchet be
from whence it came I know not where
as if it fell out of thin air
from behind me, a voice I heard
a manly voice in every word
said please excuse me buttercup
was meant for me I stood right up
to see who made that teasing sound
and while I stood I turned around
I could not see a single man
except, a lady with a fan
who held it upright to her face
are you dear sir in the right place
my presence here I came to hear
about that hatchet over there
what of that caused your purviews
about its tale, it spreads like news
there's no such tale, they only lied
our harm in jail, they tried to hide
that tale began in Wilson's years
we tried and tried but no one cares
since there's no tale what is the point
nothing to write or to exploit
you're a writer ... and unemployed
mayhaps unlike, poor Anne Boleyn
I like the way you made that sound
I need a bit of your background
start with your name it's Alice Paul
let's spread the news at DC Mall.
Anne Boleyn -
what a state she was in!
"If I'd have married another, instead,
I'd be standing before you with my head."