by IRENE FOWLER, Contributor

William Shakespeare:

“Sweet are the uses of adversity,

Which like the toad, ugly and venomous,

Wears yet a precious jewel in his head.”

As You Like It

“Deep malice makes too deep incision:

Forget, forgive; conclude and be agreed.”

Richard II

“Glory is like a circle in the water,

Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself

Till by broad spreading it disperse to nought.”

Henry VI

To read Irene’s new poem “William & Harry: Blue Blood Bros” click:

William & Harry: Blue Blood Bros

by Irene Fowler

London bridge is falling down: Alas! The Fair Lady
Along with her diamond crowns and tiaras, were not forever
A woman of many convoluted and storied Royal parts, Queen Elizabeth II
Evinced a steely personhood, thereby, masking deep fissures and cracked walls
Albeit, presently all the kings horses and all the kings men
Are on track to fall short, in putting things back together again
A spare Prince scorned and vilified
Pitted against the heir Prince-bro; blessed and deified
Princely duels and combats, on bawdy, salacious public display
Centre stage, humourless, and a battle Royale for the ages
Echoing historic, unbridled, familial feuds and betrayals
Bearing upon powerful kingdoms and thrones
Erstwhile empires, on which the sun never set
Cleopatra, Napoleon and Bloody Mary
Each one embroiled in brutal sibling rivalries, posing the question
Mirror, mirror on the castle wall
Who is the fairest of us all?
Working-class commoners striving to glue together humble homes of nigh-flimsy walls
Remain unseen, unheard and unspoken
Underserved by soulless, vulturous media groups
In furtherance of corrupt agendas and insalutary worldviews
Gladly, glibly, playing the race card in the Royal blame-game
For Meghan Markle; Harry’s cherished wife, life partner and mother of his offspring
Hails from a non-milky-white, ancestral root
So let’s give her the cold shoulder and icy boot
We care not that our chosen, golden son
Aspires to one day hold sway in a rainbow coalition of nations
This is not a simple case of blue-blood-bad- blood
We pull the strings and by Jove, all else, be damned
Forsooth; roses are red and violets are blue
Sweet, wise and timely counsel; from a bird’s-eye view
Prince-bros; OWN THE LOVE cos it’s all up to you.

© 2023 by Irene Fowler