Post by Reilley on Apr 1, 2014 12:41:09 GMT -6
Silk and brocade wrap a bursting heart.
The language of truth both a weapon
and a curse. The one soul at court
allowed to speak his mind,
he lives on the knife edge of
regard and the head-man’s axe.
Immune to courtly games or manner
his voice cut through threads of feint,
a plunging eagle through cobwebs.
Yet malice shines in every eye
and honeyed poison is on every tongue,
each step more treacherous than the last.
Wisdom and folly walk hand in hand
through the gardens of policy.
More genius is to be found
in a cracked vessel, rather than whole,
so capering and glib facade
are the masks of foresight and honesty.
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The first poem of the month for NaPoWriMo, an ekphrastic poem inspired by the above painting by Stanczyk
