The ogre leaps with massing hands and takes the king's head for his football feet, takes all and what would be a stump of neck contains no shrivelled seed of future crowns. Hope dozes in the eye and tongue drips out as blowpipe hate knots face to score a goal: and faces fired in the glass of lust drum hands on arteries of pulsing bone. The carrion is sharpened for the feast and butter bursts from eyeballs roasting slow. Cream-wafered ears where rubies once were set and vitamins of ghost reward the beast. The dynasty is swallowed by the panting pump and no blood-basted armies fish it back. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE COCK AND THE FOX, OR THE TALE OF THE NUN'S PRIEST by GEOFFREY CHAUCER RENASCENCE by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY TO ONE IN PARADISE by EDGAR ALLAN POE A LULLABY by LAWRENCE ALMA-TADEMA SATIRE: 2 by AULUS PERSIUS FLACCUS THE WITHERED ROSE by PHILIP AYRES |