The Queen of Nineteen Trebles

Speed Painting: Medieval Castle by NatMonney

The Queen of Nineteen Trebles

Over Dwyrenland held sway

And Heimlenholm and Ruddland

And many more to date

Yet, “My kingdom for a sceptre”

She oftentimes would say

And none did understand her,

So grand as she was vague.

For she had a crown of moonstones,

And the mountain leopard’s cape

And in her right hand firmly

Shone the sceptre of her state.

A suitor once ventured to ask:

“My Queen, wherefore this fancy

For that which you already hold,

And with other rods a-plenty?”

That man never appeared again

Before the Queen of Nineteen Trebles,

So the question was forgotten

While the jest kept in the annals.


Watercolour city

I would cry for the beauty

Of that falling old-new city

Watercolours a keen note

And the sky, a walkway singing

You knew me there

And we traced between

Stone bridges and fluted steel

The flowers, the bells still ringing

Rainbowed eyes and sea arising

Where we walked I swim, tiring

So time is passing by

In the watercolour city


Elizabeth Cook, 2016

On March Comes in like a Lion ED


A pang, to see the grasses of late summer

And the dry branches standing ruddy

Under evening light

She reaps harvests from her window

From the pages and the diodes

That bring her the world

A scant three hundred feet square

Where there is nothing to constrain

And everything to own

She discards the weekdays

While dwelling on

Late summer sun


Passion made me its marker

Of swells and sighs divided

Regret the tenderest heresy

And each dream, a watershed

And yet no arcing, tumbling,

Glittering thing of mine

Could rival hers; I remember

That frisson of the empty sky

That cry from below

Of heart and soul and mind

My summers sleep in amber

And to look at them

Is to remember


Elizabeth Cook, 2016. Image from Hyouka.