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...

It's been ages since I've written poetry. I've always preferred to write prose, though I feel that as a writer one should be able to write almost anything. I take great inspiration from poetry, and see it as an influence on my writing style. In these days of analytical writing (of which I am a part of) I feel that we analytical writers can learn a lot from poetry.  As John Lennon once sang, "Turn off your mind, relax, and float downstream."  That's a lesson we can all learn.  Allow your mind to drift, and read some verse.  Over the next few entries I'll post some verses I've composed. He's one that I did recently as practice.  A Prayer for A Rose A prayer for a rose, A rose of white. A prayer to guide us Through the night. A rose of virtue, A rose so fair. A rose beyond compare. A prayer for a rose, A rose of red. A prayer to guide us To thy bed. A rose of peace. A rose of love. A rose that runs T...