The Cook

The White Queen: A Poetry Collection

The Storyteller

That cook who tried to kill the Queen

That man who took a stand

Who played his last ever hand

He let the Queen breathe on

As he stopped for her


That cook, that cook

Selfish and Vile

Just in denial

That her drink had caused no damage 


No matter the scene

Ignoring the ruckus 

That cook just keeps on cooking


Meal after meal, day after day

She feeds all those in the castle


No fret, she thinks, they love your food

The taste of it lingers on their lips

Over and over they come back for more

Forgetting the twist in their guts the nights before


Whatever time, whatever place

Her food is being served

To make her case, she offers a taste

And pulls those poor souls through the door


The flow of souls began to stop

Once that wine was poured

Her heart was gone, and she was cold

Well, colder than before


Her talent was fading

Her thoughts were sailing

Outside her kingdom’s walls

Reaching out to her dearest maiden

Too far to hear her calls