“I’m weary of your wily words”
the old king spat.
“I ought to have you fed to birds
or banished, like a rat.”

​

The jester smiled, and hopped in place
from foot to foot with ease.
“A mighty cruel decree, your grace -
a defence, if you’d please?”

​

Before the thun’drous rage could roar
and rear its ugly head
the bard had skipped up to the fore
(on mossy ground he tread).

​

And so then came a wondrous song
from the lyre and lips of Mirth
to cow the heart too cold and strong
and prove once more the comic’s worth

​

At last the song did end, of course, and the court grew deathly still
To ‘wait the old man’s wroth again, and affirm the jester’s skill.

Luke is a 19 year old history student living in Dublin. Having been introduced to poetry in the unfortunate setting of second-level education, he came to discover a love of it during college, and began writing not much later. Some of his favourite poets include Sylvia Plath, Christina Rossetti, and Laura Gilpin.