evilrooster

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O Melchior, you brought me gifts of gold
To make a crown that you refuse to see:
You hide your eyes lest kingship make me bold,
Seduce me on the heights, corrupting me.
And Balthasar, who gave me frankincense,
Is deaf to my pronouncements. Are your fears
That I'd usurp my Father so intense
That cowering, you cover up your ears?
My Caspar, bringing myrrh, forshadows loss
And closes fast his mouth, unreconciled
To thoughts of death, the shadow of the cross:
A monstrous gift to bring a newborn child.
My kings, this all was planned, and you might trust
I'll do not what I choose, but what I must.

(The three wise monkeys: see no evil, hear no evil and speak no evil; crossed with the Three Wise Men. Originally posted on Making Light.)

I'm not Mike Ford, nor was I meant to be;
But an attendant lord, who will just do
To swell a thread, or start a meme or three,
Obtuse and pompous, yes, and foolish too.
Yet still I write my high sentitious verse,
Between the ether and the mermaid beach.
My scansion's poor, my structure's even worse,
And artistry is far beyond my reach.
I'm not alone: beside me Ledgister
Sits pecking at his keys with hairy paws.
We're monkeys, see? Does Shakespeare register
Or can we go for Ford instead? No pause...
Fragano, Raven, Dan and I all writ
And hoped our numbers reached the infinite.

Originally posted on Making Light, in memory of John M Ford.