Mr. Joyce Takes on the World

The Queen in Exile She waits on her throne For an audience with cardinals. She will not speak human Words, Nor will they bow to her. Instead, she will watch From behind a window, And wait. With flicking tongue she Will anoint her subjects’ hands. With a swish of her tail, she Treads the floors of her palace. She is Gloriana, in a way. No less a queen than Victoria, or Elizabeth I and II. She is the purring version of Catherine Parr, And just as faithful as Queen Mary. She is both lioness—her Own royal standard— And pet. She is the Queen, Clad in the finest fur. She issues proclamations As meows, which The peasants cannot understand. It is her own Queen’s English; Like Latin to a layperson. She sleeps in sunshine. She wakes at dusk. Her kingdom is of the night. While she battles invading Wind-up mice, she is protector, And sovereign. When She partakes of catnip It is her teatime. She is...

Meditations on Westminster Abbey I'd first read of this place when I was a teenager. I used to confuse one of my high school classmates by having him guess who was buried there. He never guessed right, not once. Whereas I'd memorized a large portion of those who claimed it as a final resting place. Not to sound ghoulish, but I'd wanted to visit this former cathedral/burial place for some time. It was a key location on my recent visit to England, and I was glad I took the time and effort to walk to it. It was the highlight of the time I spent in London. It wasn't about spending time with the dead. No, it was about what the place can teach us about life. Westminster Abbey was built some 1056 years ago. It's probably the oldest building I'd entered during my U.K. Holiday. On this trip I'd visited Leamington Spa, Stratford-Upon-Avon, Oxford, and London. All of which I'll talk about in later entries. Westminster Abbey is one of those plac...