Best Borgia Poems

One final blast of frigid wind leaving one last reapers' kiss.
La femme fatale bids dour adieu to fast fading verdant bliss.
She snaps her teeth like silver shears in cold calculating lips.
She slips her burnished bits of bone through Borgia fingertips.
La femme fatale bids dour adieu...

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Enea's Pope!  (2)

I suppose it’s common knowledge
(and not tedious, I hope!)
that two-thirds of the Sacred College
must concur to elect a pope.        

With eighteen cardinals gathered,
twelve was the number to get.
They were nervous, preoccupied, lathered,
for there was no...

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Enea Gets the Red Hat

Finally, he's getting somewhere. 
Fifty years of age and almost crippled, 
prematurely aged, but at last, 
sweet recognition rains down 
on the poet. Kneeling before Calixtus, 
he accepts the Cardinal's hat. 
Fancy that. 

With every triumph, we're swept nearer Hell. 
Each...

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Marjorie Taylor Greene
Congressperson who loves to preen
From Northern Georgia
A notorious reputation like Lucretia Borgia

FIRST PLACE WINNER
written June 28, 2021
exclusively for "A Brian Strand July Poetry Contest"
sponsored by Brian Strand...

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Translation of Eric Mottram’s TWENTYEIGHTH LEGAL (Part One) by T. Wignesan
 
N.B. If any one is interested in reading the continuation of the extracts of letters that Eric Mottram wrote from America during 1965-66 to me, please read them at POEMHUNTER.COM. For some reason, I...

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Ronaldo sprawled in luxury 
across from where the spaniel lay, 
pretending to read Mallarme 
and yawning, stuck in Chapter One. 
The Grandfather ticked heavily, 
there was no other sound in sight 
except dear Josephine who plonked 
and murdered dear Stravinsky's Rite. 

Boredom, and the day's...

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...inspired by 'A Cooking Egg' by T.S. Eliot

 
Ronaldo sprawled in luxury
across from where the spaniel lay,
he soldiered on with Mallarme
and, yawning, re-read Chapter One.

The Grandfather ticked ponderously,
there was no other sound in sight
except dear Josephine who plonked
and murdered dear Stravinsky's Rite.

Boredom was the day's...

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In the style of T.S. Eliot.


          *******


Ronaldo sprawled in luxury 
across from where the spaniel lay, 
pretending to read Mallarme 
and yawning, stuck in Chapter One. 
The Grandfather ticked heavily, 
there was no other sound in...

Continue reading...

In the style of T.S. Eliot.


          *******


Ronaldo sprawled in luxury 
across from where the spaniel lay, 
pretending to read Mallarme 
and yawning, stuck in Chapter One. 
The Grandfather ticked heavily, 
there was no other sound in...

Continue reading...

...inspired by 'A Cooking Egg' by T.S. Eliot

 
Ronaldo sprawled in luxury
across from where the spaniel lay,
he soldiered on with Mallarme
and, yawning, re-read Chapter One.

The Grandfather ticked ponderously,
there was no other sound in sight
except dear Josephine who plonked
and murdered dear Stravinsky's Rite.

Boredom was the day's...

Continue reading...

Copyright © 2016
08.01.2016
11:28am

Caseare Borgia's clothed
in Christ's robe?

But, he was from the West
and used as a test, test
of men's mind, misleading
many to find the truth,
of what Rome wanted to do.

Christ's robe wasn't a suit
and tie, that would've been
a lie, and a Muslim wouldn't
fly. It is said,...

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...inspired by 'A Cooking Egg' by T.S. Eliot

 
Ronaldo sprawled in luxury
across from where the spaniel lay,
pretending to read Mallarme
and yawning, stuck in Chapter One.

The Grandfather ticked ponderously,
there was no other sound in sight
except dear Josephine who plonked
and murdered dear Stravinsky's Rite.

Boredom was the day's...

Continue reading...

Ennui

 
...inspired by 'A Cooking Egg' by T.S. Eliot

 

Ronaldo sprawled in luxury

across from where the spaniel lay,

pretending to read Mallarme

and yawning, stuck in Chapter One.

 

The Grandfather ticked ponderously,

there was no other sound in sight

except dear Josephine who plonked

and murdered dear Stravinsky's Rite.

 

Boredom...

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The Devil went up to Georgia
In search of Lucrezia Borgia
His thoughts were obscene
But she was plain mean,
"Georgia just wants to disgorge yuh!"...

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“A Christmas Gift”
By: P. G. Borgia

1	              
An evening of peace, city streets still,
Snowflakes settle upon your windowsill.
Snuggled in your rocker, pleased to see
A day’s work of love, trimming your tree.

2
Fragrance of pine...

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