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Of Queens And Pain Arts 

Of Queens And Pain

The sorrow and pitch

of the howling bale

Tears my soul apart

As I whisper to myself

under the hood,

the midnight’s veil:

O, Queen of love

Queen of pleasure

My kingdom offered

and your King in measure

And with grace such

Beneath the white moon that bends

my sorrows and filled misery

A heart, bleeding, in ruins

I beg, fancy these words

echoed from my welling heart

Within the white that wends

Weaved from my soul and strewn

and with bared countenancy

with love and grace, eternally


Written By: Maxime S. Barthe

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