A Merciless Queen Poem by Chris Zachariou

With a simple brush stroke,
the master painter builds for you
a castle of vast rooms with high
shelves all stacked with silent heads.
You always sought to live in such
a weird world of silence with a moat
of angry words around you.

Every time I come to you, you scream:
'There is no room for you in my inn.'
But why do you leave your door
unlocked at night, can it be that you
really miss me and maybe neither of us
wants to be on our own tonight?

I devour with a poor man's hunger all
the poisoned words you shoot at me
each day from across the pond and gorge
on them with a rich man's greed.

Why did you summon me to your court today?
I was certain the next time you'd meet with me
would be where failed poets go for shelter.

Admittedly, my provocation
was thoughtless, I sinned against the meter!
Can you not forgive me though and pack me
off to art school in Vienna?
After all, you prescribed this for another.

Casualties are mounting high,
hostilities have never ceased and so far
you have refused all my offers of a truce.

Look out of your battlements, I'm on
my way riding an old steed, my armour
is getting rusty and the only gifts I bring
to you are the words of a jaded scribbler.
We both knew one day I would return
braving your moat and high walls.

You broadcast to the world I'm simply
an inconvenience, and that you are happy now.
My merciless young queen, I never had selfish
ambitions for you like that, I like you too much
to want to make you happy, and you know
how much alike we are, both blessed with sharp
wit and the precious gift of loneliness.