Evil dons a political mask,
puppetry performed
with carefully construed phrases,
public favour swayed…
and as a final ruse
deploys duplicitous vestments
declaring divinity onboard.

(For Willow Poetry’s What Do You See? challenge: image as prompt.)


A two-story, red brick
set on the edge of town
was our castle, tall cedars,
like a moat, separating us
from unwanted onlookers

Strategically placed intercoms
tracked our movements, and
walls that moved revealed
forbidden spaces – passageways
that led to covert rooms

Our King was not benevolent,
and nor was our mother his queen –
for the woman he worshipped,
who held his heart’s throne,
dwelt in the shadows, and reigned.

Elizabeth, she was, regal
and bejeweled, long white gloves
brandishing a silver holder,
red lips blowing rings of seduction,
her presence a disquieting menace

She would not stir from our fortress
and none of us would speak of her
lest our kingdom might crumble
Our castle was two-storied: one
a man’s the other his alter ego.

(Written for Laura’s Manic Mondays 3-way prompt:  castle)