by Frank Anthony
Suddenly, the people who write poetry occupy half a page in the art
section of the Sunday daily paper; the great unwatched hear something new about poetry.
It turns out the wife of the Pharaoh had a lady in waiting send word to the scribes, via keeper of the scrolls, that the royal audience she had
arranged is cancelled.
Agreed, the scribes had intended to complain about Warsaw and famine in the land when the Queen had planned a party that was to lift the popularity of the King.
Tranquillity has to be restored, to repair a rupture in any hot air
balloon, otherwise the gas escapes and the pressure gone reveals there is
only a slack sack.
A sales keeper of old scrolls invites all the poets, especially those
on political subsidy, to come to an ancient church and read poems about the past.
The gathering, of what turns out to be a dead poets lament, lends a
veil of credence to the lack of opposition to dissention and
dissatisfaction in the land.
Peace and calm, of the homeland has been restored, stores are filled
with happy shoppers again, who support new wars that will bring jobs for
young soldiers. Prosperity reigns.
The poets have gone back to teaching other poets of ancient history,
especially war is popular, while rooms are being prepared for those who do not understand the system.