Gloria Horton-Young on Honeygloom

[Gloria Horton-Young]

The Infamous Henry VIII

Haiku

•••

Golden crowns tarnish,

Power’s edge meets autumn’s end—

Silence fills the court.

Courtiers whisper,

Shadows lengthen on his throne—

The lion grows weak.

Faith turns to despair,

Wings of treachery unfold—

Reapers close in fast.

Once a mighty king,

Now a sickle in the hand—

Blood and crowns fall down.

Misty dawn of death,

Kingdom waits with bated breath—

Tudor’s time decays.

Frost chills royal halls,

Throne now cold, his reign is done—

Silence echoes long.

•••

Senryū

Eyes meet in the court,

Words unspoken, fear runs deep—

Reaping kingly pride.

Royal bed grows cold,

But not as cold as power lost—

Heads bent, necks exposed.

Whispers of revolt,

Secrets buried in dark rooms—

Reapers circle near.

Promises once sworn,

Now broken like his strong will—

Reapers count their gains.

Silent fall from grace,

Words of loyalty now gone—

Crown slips from his grasp.

Autumn winds reveal,

Truths hidden behind the veil—

Reaping Tudor’s fall.

[Honeygloom]

Ah Henry, so pathetic. These really capture his reign quite well🖤

[Chris J. Franklin]

Wonderful interpretation! 😎