Ștefana Maria Diaconu participates in the Poetry Contest of the Festival 4 Arts, from București, România. We wish her success and thank her!

Crooked King

The crown is rusty, old and dead
Yes shining gold upon his head,
His throne is high, barren and cold
Draped in dreams of wealth and gold.
 
He walks the halls that once were grand,
He sees the vastness of his land
He doesn’t see the bloody pyre,
The corpses eaten by the fire.
 
His rags feel like spider silk
The coal – marble white as milk
He dreams of faerie dance and love,
He feels a hand where there is glove.
 
The empty crops no longer die,
He cannot hear the children cry
And in the dark the faeries sing,
Long shall live the Crooked King.

Fading away

It starts small, like most wicked things
A breath out of place, a space between blinks
it settles, it festers, it grows
Rough requiems from crowded crows.
 
Some are spared with false disguise,
Some succumb to wicked lies,
Ignore the poison in their lungs
Spore and spread until it numbs.
 
For some is too late to fight their death,
Lives stolen in under a breath
Passing quietly with frozen heart,
Six feet beneath and six feet apart.
 
The safety has lowered and so did the fear,
We all forget how the virus is near.

Metal Snake

Morning haze, it’s  6 AM
In the subway people cram
Blurry eyes and sleepy gait
All they have to do is wait.

From a maze of stone and steel
A machine that cannot feel
Lights the way of time in need
With blaring sounds and wicked speed.

Metal snake rattles at last
People now and people past
Walk inside but mind the gap
Before the wicked doors can snap.

For if you fall, you won’t be saved    
The ancient tracks are not behaved
You’ll be eaten with a screech
Out of sight and out of reach.

Many choose to purposefully ignore
The pain in sight, the death before
It’s easy to let yourself be lied
To forget the world outside

But heed my words, for they are few
Old as age, they are not new
Mind your steps and raise your gaze
Or flesh will decorate the maze.

For this fate will spare you not
Stuck between the steel and rot
But the memory remains
Under the wheels of wicked trains.

Tell me, Tiger…

Tell me, tiger, do you like your crown?
It’s stiff and cold
From stolen gold,
And jewels up and down.
 
Tell me, traitor, do you like your cape?
It’s long and red,
From bloody thread
And teeth for you to drape.
 
Tell me, Lordling, do you like your land?
With crops of bones,
And towns of stones
It’s yours to command.
 
Tell me children, do you know your kin?
They set the fire,
Toorched the Empire
To fester in their sin.
 
Tell me, daughter, have you heard of war?
It’s red and white,
and lasts the night,
But for you no more.