Among Ash-Heaps and Kings

upon his head
grey strays forth
below his diadem; whispering
secrets in past tense.

in West Egg
where idyllic lawns,
scatter forth --
shades of cobalt blue.

a man upon his throne,
sits and waits;
with decadent swine
in ash-heaps below.

Reviews

[Pryde Foltz]

Loved it all …. a king in ones own mind, I suppose, is still a king. Great wry and witty write.

[John]

With a nod to The Great Gatsby, the poem nicely focuses on the particular to upend pomposity and pretentiousness. I am reminded of Napoleon Bonaparte's quip that a throne is only a bench covered in velvet.