top of page

No Stories For April

You can find a downloadable version of this poem here: (.PDF)

Dance, clown of the King.

You jester wrought in chains of spite and pain.

Let he who brought forth such a misery upon the court,

Be thrown off the tallest tower,

Off the highest peak,

Into the depths.

Why are you loathe to retort?

The iron upon your neck, cause of swelling and hate.

Fool through thorough woes, tears your only food for thought.

Yet thou persist.

Living. Why?

Such sunlight beaming its blessed gift upon thine hide.

Shaking in the rich velvet and silk,

In the disease-consumed leather bag,

Huddling feet close together, arms snap begging for the sun,

It’s bright here, near the throne. It’s warm here, near the throne.

Come out from the shadow,

Dance and tell us stories,

Stories of brave knights and of voluptuous maidens with darkened hair,

Of towers of steel and men wearing armour beneath their flesh,

Of metal dragons spitting fire and death,

Of peasants becoming Kings.

In defiance of God.

Come forward thee coward,

And tell us these stories,

Tell us these stories and dance for us,

For April she shortly wains.

39 views0 comments
--News & Updates--
Writing, writing, writing.
  • The site may have visual glitches on browsers other than Google Chrome.
  • Thanks for checking out Varied Fiction!
The Grim Weaver
February 14

Hades' Cull
January 3

The Investigator
December 12, 2021

Letting Go
November 20, 2021

A Couple's Ghost Story

August 22, 2021
Wondering Along the Nile
June 12

September 5, 2020

Tooth Thief
April 24

What Doth the Sun Say? 
February 21

December 12, 2020
bottom of page