MARK RIORDAN Jun 23

IT IS A SUNNY DAY IN ENGLAND
THE QUEEN IS AT THE RACES
ROYAL ASCOT HER MAJESTY OWNS
THE HORSES RUN THERE PACES


HER MAJESTY IS IN GREEN
WHAT A BEAUTIFUL SUMMER COLOUR
THE RACE GOERS ENJOY THE DAY
KATE SAVES JUST ANOTHER


IT IS A WONDERFUL DAY
ON THE GLOBAL RACING CALENDAR
HER MAJESTY AND THE ROYAL FAMILY
LOVE ROYAL ASCOT NO WONDER

I AM ALWAYS SO HAPPY WHEN I COMPOSE A POEM ABOUT HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN I ALWAYS LOOK AT THE LETTER AND PICTURE HER MAJESTY SENT ME. NOT MANY AUTHORS CAN SAY THEY HAVE RECEIVED A LETTER AND CARD FROM HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN.
MARK RIORDAN May 8

DON'T WEAR YOUR HEART ON YOUR SLEEVE
THE QUEEN ADVISES THE YOUNG ROYALS
THERE ARE DEFINITELY TWO GENERATIONS
THAT FACE ALL THERE TOILS


ONE IS STRONG AND STOUT
AND HAS A GENERATION OF STRENGTH
THE OTHER GENERATION ARE YOUNG
AND EXPLAIN THEM IN LENGTH


BUT ONE THING IS FOR SURE THE
ROYAL FAMILY ARE TRULY LOVED
WEATHER IT'S THE QUEEN OR THE YOUNG ROYALS
THEY ARE BLESSED FROM ABOVE

THE QUEEN HAS ADVISED THE YOUNG ROYALS NOT TO WEAR THEIR HEARTS ON THERE SLEEVES. BUT THEY ARE TELLING IT LIKE IT IS MAYBE THAT IS REFRESHING INDEED.
MU Apr 27

When the breeze announces
‘Her Majesty, the Queen!’
Flowers and branches bend
You enter the garden...

Spring is a kingdom, she rules it, and I have been exiled...
Em MacKenzie Apr 26

Ask lone questions that were made for a King,
one who was born mute, blind and deaf.
He'll express the most breathtaking things,
only coming from this final breath.

LCappo Apr 7

Hierarchy?
⚜️
a system of life
where i shall follow your orders,
your majesty
⚜️
I'm startled from your cruelty
⚜️
danger is looming ahead
excuse my charisma
⚜️
but you should beware
'cause I'm the SIGMA
⚜️
the sigma
the knight
who stands up
⚜️
the mighty sword
in his hands
⚜️
against the King
⚜️
fighting for the good
of
Humanity

the sigma is the traditional knight who fights against the evil even if it is his king

A queen was new
where she's vividly in blue
only hands read nine then
these real story escapades must always begin
their allure and beauty with skin
and the final stroke aft-midnight again
whether she was hedge hunting indeed
semantically dialed her phone there in need
and endowed her own again tonight.

where is the
self appointed king
courtiers have noticed
the absence
all subjects
of the realm
await his not so
fond return

a royal
proclamation
didn't reach
the town crier
which hasn't caused
any concern
to they who live
in the kingdom's shire

should
the regent
grace them
with his presence
they wont be
feasting on
the finest ducks
and pheasants

two days
spent away
from the crown's
summer lodge
could the
trumped up one
be doing
a sidestepping dodge

(Tr)aveling w(i)th the younger I
With her on your back
She gazed at intricate diamonds of the dark.
Never facing an ounce of (um)brage.

With age, her knowledge flourished
Growing from the water of your trunk
Her brain was nourished with ex(p)erience
Following in your trail

Strengthening over time
She (ha)d no i(nt)erest on your back
Nor the night sky
Rather clouds and the outside
Away sh(E) wa(l)ked from your shadow
With your trunk raised high

Lions and crocodiles swarmed her on s(e)a and land
With no trunk or tusk
Adrenaline rushed
She shook in nerves til dusk

Continuing days with no shade
Skin cells accepting harsh sun rays
With the storm of your stom(p)s
She awaited your presence
(h)yen(a)s laughed as you came
Splattering blood on your name

You laid with your wheel
As she wailed with no trunk
She wept
For you sculpted her i(nt)o who (s)he was

Long, Long down the road.
Buying from an old bookstore
Finding a binder filled with the Royal Animals

Turning the first sheet
She noticed a stamp
Reminding her of her stuffed friends
Triumphant  Elephants

A "hardcore" poem of a stuffed elephant who goes through life with this once little girl
Silverflame Jan 7

The golden leaves have said their final goodbye,
as they slowly fall down the trees.
But never have corpses of nature looked more beautiful,
than the crown they made on the top of your head.

Alan S Bailey Dec 2016

She sits upon her royal chair,
eating a donut, drinking coffee, smoking a plume
smoke rising like a phantom menace in the air.

She calls upon her royal friends she sees,
the batting false eyelashes to a perfect stranger
asking the "gentleman" only for his "hand" by all means.

She drives in her royal chariot,
A red and orange one, flaming stripes at the sides, singing
Songs about the battles and triumphs of wartime's "great" merit.

One day this lovely newborn bird will fly the coop,
the child I know by rights was a born queen! She'll
win first in pageants and then we'll drink to soul's soup.

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