Poets logo

The Jester and Her Highness

by Bri Mary 4 years ago in surreal poetry · updated about a month ago

Beneath the Old Oak Tree

Photo/image by Mark Skeet.

She had a new toy, that she began to love,

She laughed as she played, and thanked the lord god above.

But, after awhile, as often toys do,

into pieces, and not just one or two.

At first they were cold and hard.

Just objects on the floor.

But as the girl grew older,

The pieces grew to more.

They listened and they watched, always taking note,

Of all the times she left the house without putting on her coat.

She took her veto out and gently set it on the pane,

For with no coat, it hadn't had protection from the rain.

With her armour out to dry, they sang her right to sleep,

And when she woke the sight she saw was surely cause to weep.

Her veto sat disheveled, never quite so low,

So she got a needle and a thread and started stiching rows.

Eventually she mended it, so that it didn't die,

But, when she asked what happened her mouth opened up a lie.

She then became a princess, oh so sweet and shy,

Who bats her eyes and fans her face so the jester can sneak by.

A princess is a stronghold, control she must not lack,

Raise your chin, my dear, for a princess never cracks.

She lived her royal life until she hated what she'd done,

And as her veto showed it's wear she knew 'twas time to run.

"Oh no! Don't go! You'll ruin the show, It was just starting to get fun!"

From behind the curtain it burst forth, the jesters time had come.

The next few years were a tussle between the jester and her highness,

In other words, the jester took advantage of her shyness.

Finally, she ran away then stopped to look around,

She thought she heard an old oak tree make an oddly familiar sound.

It yawned for a time then cracked open it's old eyes,

She jerked to start to run from the truth to all the lies.

But as she turned, a voice boomed out in a tone no less than stern,

"My dear, my dear, come back here now, cause it about time you learn."

"First things first, this is not what people do,

The jesters not your fault,

And your blood is red not blue."

A lift of her chin and downcast glance,

"And just who, good sir, are you?"

Laughing while he said

"I'm the only you that's true.

Sit down my dear,

now that your confused,

Though watch you step,

because my roots are quite abused.

It's the things you have forgotten,

day by tragic day,

It's these things you need to hold on to,

when you really need to stay."

"I don't deserve your kindness, to help with all the noise,

For years, I've helped the Jester excecute it's ploys."

"Dear girl, think back now, you compared to the other girls and boys,

It's time you realize, the ladder, grew up with many toys.

Now, there is something I want, and it's a very simple task,

To only have my will returned is what, from you, I ask."

After a moment of thought,

"You mean my veto I believe..."

She watched the old oak nod,

then reached to pull it from her sleeve.

She placed it in a hollow part, where an owl would perch,

After one shocked second, the oak gave one big lurch.

As he began to grow, she bid her friend farewell,

For she wanted to be far away before his acorns fell.

He shouted,

"Wait there's one more thing you need to duly note!

Don't ever leave the house without first putting on your coat.

As she nodded in agreement, she turned her back and waved,

She knew deep down it wouldn't be long until they all were saved.

surreal poetry

Bri Mary

Hello everyone, I appreciate that you took the time to read or even look into my writing. I write story poetry and there is always more than meets the eye. Just like people.

Read next: Is It Possession?

Find us on social media

Miscellaneous links

  • Explore
  • Contact
  • Privacy Policy
  • Terms of Use
  • Support

© 2022 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.