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 Jul 2020
Carlo C Gomez
Dear diary:

Land sakes! Leofric cannot believe I carried through with it. But indeed, today I rode naked along the sparse, meager streets of ye old Coventry.

And whilst my long hair, let down for the occasion, did provide me a jot of modesty; alas! a strong breeze I am most certain granted uncivil eyes to plainly see my top half is much ado about nothing.

Nonetheless, an even more discomfiting fear shall be if some peeping tom espied his fair countess to be no natural blonde at all; just a fare-thee-well lemon juicing, miracle bra wearing charlatan.

On the plus side, I did achieve quite a lovely, even, 'no-lines' tan!
Thomas W. Case's Historical Figure Poetry Challenge, Lady Godiva.
 Jul 2020
Traveler
Challenge Thomas Case
from a historical figure's viewpoint.

(Pay no attention to the little man behind the curtains)

All my great inventions
An Emerald City of true paradise
An eye in the sky that watches all...
At the labor of the Munchkins
The city thrives on and on
  The four winds carry my famous name
The great and most powerful OZ!

There was ones a great disturbance
A march upon my precious city
The yellow brick road of evil
The Witches of all directions raised
Dorothy and her posy had arrived

Why can't they understand
I protect this kingdom
From the dangers of the outsiders
And the opinions of those unwelcome here in Oz!

But then it happened
Nothing would ever be the same
The Munchkins revolted
Red ruby glass slippers some witch made
Would over power my dictatorship

The Munchkins now ruling their selves
In league with some race of monkey elves
Left me no choice
So I returned to Kansas
Just behind Dorothy and her confounded little dog Toto

I joined the mighty Canaveral for a short spell
Still there and everywhere
Again and again evil dwelt among men
So beware
Until this day I still fight for the small people
..........................................................­................



                                    
                         W. Oz
Misty morning, clouds in the sky
Without warning, the wizard walks by
Casting his shadow, weaving his spell
Funny clothes, tinkling bell
Never talking
Just keeps walking
Spreading his magic
Evil power disappears
Demons worry when the wizard is near
He turns tears into joy
Everyone's happy when the wizard walks by
Never talking
Just keeps walking
Spreading his magic
Sun is shining, clouds have gone by
All the people give a happy sigh
He has passed by, giving his sign
Left all the people feeling so fine
Never talking
Just keeps walking
Spreading his magic.

BLACK SABBATH
Songwriters: John Osbourne / Terence Butler / Frank Iommi / W.t. Ward

Traveler Tim
 Jul 2020
Thomas W Case
Yeah, so what I was sitting
on the wall.
It was mine, and a great
wall it was.
Peasants walked by
and envied my crevasse,
they mistook it for a
belt, I had to constantly
correct them.
I got in such a squabble
with one of the villagers,
I leaned forward to give
him the what for, and
I'll be ****** if I didn't
tumble off and smash into
thousands of pieces.
Because I'm so important,
the Kings men and beasts were
quickly dispatched, and
the incompetent fools could
not fix me.
So I lie here, yolk and shell
everywhere, yet I continue to
think and reason, no heaven,
no hell.  This wretched life
continues, I watch the ****
walk through me, I hear their
uneducated banter and it
infuriates me...
I've read all the great philosophers,
yet; nothing has prepared me for this.
And what the hell does, "pride goeth
before the fall." mean anyway.
This is written from the mind of Humpty Dumpty for the historical figure challenge brought forth by Thomas W. Case and B.L.T.  Come join the fun.  Choose any historical figure or fictional character and write a poem from their perspective...get inside their mind.
 Jul 2020
Carlo C Gomez
These fingertips of mine,
accepting of blood,
map a pathway
from the watery deep of me
to right under this bridge.

The blade,
long and drawn out,
finds purpose in its kiss,
quenching itself,
subconsciously,
every time it hits the red.

And like a convoluted river,
beautifully strange
and hidden in the wood,
she never knew my face.

For the lady
I gave no time to squeal,
this shall be her
final resting place.
Thomas W. Case Historical figure poetry Challenge. This older one fits perfectly.
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