This is a poem about a town who was decieved to their death and the cunning of deciet. |
The Kingdom Which Was Doomed Listen closely, my readers, and a tale will I tell Of a Kingdom of olden days and how it tragically fell Of a foolish King and a Prophet and his crafty spell And the dark way, that a town said farewell "Death!" cried the watchman "Death!" cried the King For they both saw the morning sun Which carried doom on it's wings The King sat in his study, his eyes were bloodshot red For the last month, he had pondered what the Prophet said, "King, by this time next month, every one of you will be dead It is down the path to your end that you tread You will die by the hands of fools, it is hopeless to run away Every person in this land will surely die that day" Though the King asked more, 'twas all the Prophet would say So for a long and somber month now, both King and people prayed The King had thought the entire time, about what he must do By the time the third week had come, he declared, "It is hopeless! It is true!" It became like a ghost town, as if all of their lives were already through The rising of the sun that day was like death's gravely cue The King called all of his people into the town The time was fast coming, no one made a sound Their faces were dark, a unkind group of frowns All from the Kingdom were there, both of peasant and crown The King said, "The moment has come. Soon we will die! Try to stay calm and it's alright to cry. But I see only one path and I will not lie We've been told there's no hope and that we shouldn't try So with pride and for dignity I will take my own life It is your choice, my people, if you too take up your knife But that is what I will do, rather than face an enemies strife And they all took up weapons: child, husband, and wife And so within moments, a whole Kingdom was dead The lives of the people, from their bodies fled Upon the cities ground, countless puddles of red For so strong was their fear, with death did they wed A few hours later, as all their bodies did rot Into town rode the same Prophet, at a slow, cautious trot It did not take long for him to find what he sought For all were dead, as if a gruesome battle had been fought The town was lost and its Kingdoms power gone The once-King lay dead and empty sat his throne Ah, but the twist, the Prophet did not come alone Now it all came together, now some truth was shone For with him rode a foreign King to whom he slyly spoke, "My King, these people died soon after the morning sun awoke Some madness took hold of them and their feeble mind's broke And look, there lies the old King's body, dead under his cloak I know not what drove these poor people to this evil end Perhaps this was divine punishment for some horrible sin Nevertheless, my Lord, I told you we would win For the war is quickly won, when you fight already-dead men So look, my King, and see that my vision was true And, my Lord, I promise to serve only you." And the Prophet's guile was hard to see through And so the King would believe in whatever the Prophet would view And so for many more years, that King would rule Never realizing until too late that too he was only a tool Only when his lips turned blue and his body grew cool Did he realize he'd only been the Prophet's fool And so we learn a scary lesson indeed We encounter constantly those who mislead So, dear reader, be careful whose words you heed Be wary, my friend, not to let them succeed So respect a King, for power have they But be more cautious of those who direct the King's way For you do not know who a King will obey And you do not know who really rules at the end of the day Nathaniel Ryan Dylan Mounce Wednesday, October 3, 2007 |