Pride sits
on a broken throne
in its hands, a tiny
shiny blue alphabet
Pride howls
alone on its throne
in the wee
hours full of bluster and bite
Pride clings
to its slippery throne
ringed by
angry fires
listening to the fiddler
Another for National Poetry Month, the subject is from Real Toads, where they suggested we write about the seven vices or virtues.
Such are the hallmarks of pride, filled with contempt and bluster, yet no trace of sense or other balancing virtue when criticism of their small mindedness is brought to their attention. It’s far too common a thing normally, but it is a tragedy to see Pride sitting where it is now.
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Pride often leaves you lonely on a heap of trash… sometimes that’s punishment enough I think. Love the images.
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I do hope Trump doesn’t turn out to be Nero!
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