roogymirror's Poems: Vol. I

Bill Was Born

Those who say it loudly

And, admittedly, quite proudly,

Are descended from the kings

With their crowns and robes and royal things.

On one sunny village morn,

A hapless baby Bill was born.

The parents were neither rich nor poor,

But filled with love for the child they adored.

A mage of dusty face and wicked repute

Added to his pot an eye of newt.

He practiced his magicks, away in his cave,

Learning of Bill, the best and the brave.

He sought an audience with the King,

a quiet, off-the-books type of thing,

to discuss a prophecy that he foresaw

when crafting spells to shock and awe.

The King learned of a boy born that day,

Who would triumphantly take all his power away.

He dismissed the mage upfront, however,

for the King thought himself too handsome and clever.

The mage took not kindly to being scorned,

And bitterness became the temper he adorned.

He told the parents of the prophecy he saw,

To tempt them into believing it more.

The parents raised their son with it in mind,

And carelessly set their expectations high.

One day the King learned of their plot,

And demanded Bill's presence on the spot.

Bill said clear with conviction in his chest,

"I do not know how to say it best,

But everyone here has seemed to believe

that I deserve platitudes I don't want to receive.

"I do not want to take your Majesty's throne,

I would just rather you all leave me alone."

And with these words he had said,

This whole matter was put to bed.