THE RAMBLINGS OF AN OLD DYING KING

“By sneeze or by God’s grievance
by Adam’s putrid ale
or by those recalcitrant whores
I am ruined

Can you then
mix me an ointment
fashion me a potion
find me a cure
can you?
If not then go forth
and multiply
the pox is still with me
what use the charlatan quack?

Child, bring me ‘water bright’
I thirst
Bring me ‘water bright’ now

this instant
so I can toast my maker
get in his good books
I’ll meet him soon enough

Girl, yes you
the pretty little thing
Why do you gaze
at the floor?
Chin up, be brave
I do not bite wench
I have a need about me
Bring unto me
that big sister of yours
The one who fills
her bodice so well
that she might lie
with me
one last time

I had a dream once you know
A dream that kingdom come
was a gypsy girl
dancing to a fiddle
raven hair, rouge lips
naked, of course
flaunting her wares
just for me, and
lusting for the sake of lust

Tell me I’m wrong
Tell me that my
gypsy girl is not
a fallen angel
sent to piggyback me
to perdition

Then again, I am dying
what does it matter?
A single glass of mead

that’s all I want
full to the brim mind
then, I’ll die happy

You there, you boy
Don’t pretend you
can’t hear me!
I want my mutt
at my side
idle, filthy beast
that he is
he remains my
one true loyal friend
fetch him
I want him close at hand
more than ever”

Or alternatively;

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Copyright © 2020. All rights reserved. Unauthorised copying, reproduction, hiring, and lending, prohibited although in a crisis I’ve no issue with any reader using the pages of said books as emergency’s loo roll.


29 thoughts on “THE RAMBLINGS OF AN OLD DYING KING

    1. Were I The King I do believe I’d settle for that. In reality my dear wife is certainly the monarch. Sadly I am nought but the court fool. Still, we have a laugh. My thanks. Regards, The Old Court Fool

    1. My thanks, young Holly. I’m grateful for your comment. You see, once more you and several other writers I follow, are not turning up on my Reader. I’d thought I’d cured this. It seems WP thought otherwise. I shall have words with them methinks. Regards, The Old Fool

  1. Again, your poetry is superior! I like your mind!
    TOF, I adore that no topic is off limits for you!
    So, yes, I’m heading off to sew my gown. I’d sew my sow if I had a sow, and if one could sew a sow.
    So, that only leaves seeds to sow, but first to sew.

    1. So, sow and sew again, you are ‘so’ suitably insane…in a good way, I stress…young Resa. ‘No topic is off limits’ a truth although as someone…I can’t recall who at the moment because I’m ancient and forget these things plus I’m taking a fascinating 3 drips at a time of hideously expensive Hemp Oil in an attempt claw back my day to day sanity and health…once said, ‘to a writer the truth is no big deal’. Must go. She who must be obeyed has just bellowed up the stairs that 3 more drops of oil are due. She has taken charge of this medication as I miss my mouth when attempting the job. Regards, The Old Hemp Dribbling Fool aka TOHDF

      1. The Old Hemp Dribbling Fool….hmmm
        I’m all for cannabis products! There’s 3 dispensaries on my block alone.
        The government has allowed them to stay open during the lockdown. It keeps us all in line (ups) and the tax revenue is keeping our country afloat.
        However, I think TOHDF, is misleading. People might think you mean The Old High Definition Fool, and hire you to fix televisions and cameras.
        DOFTH would be better. Dribbling Old Fool The Hemp…. no one would mistake that fo anything else. Resa

      2. I had to phone my doctor this very morn. I’d been taking the optimum dose of Hemp Oil CBD three times a day. I’d spent an entire night last night in the land of wide awake, living dreams…not unlike the good old days of yore. The quack suggested I was insane and said that when it came to taking hemp oil I should kick-off with a mild dose and gradually build it up. Dear Shirl also called me insane as she’s never known me perma-smile like an idiot, wide awake from dusk to dawn. Regards, yawning DOFTH

    1. My thanks. ‘Tis strange on the one hand, yet obvious on the other that kings…especially…from days of yore got away with murder, both metaphorically and actually. Regards, The Old Fool

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