The Palace of St. Ann's
The palace of St. Ann's was not like another
Edifice in sight, architectural design
Baroquely, grotesque...expenditures, no bother
To madam...mistress and her palace of a kind.
An unsettling sadness clung to the pair of them,
Ostentatiously dressed, frequently, face lifting
The visible, lest fates (it so unfair of them)
Should disallow the vain hope of age short-shrifting.
Ann d'Irebart, well-researched nom de guerre, her choosing,
Intended to affix to the skeptical heart
The common first names of the two, presupposing
Townsfolk might suppress suspicions at the start.
But madams and castles, when heavily trafficked,
Would invoke wonderment though miracles in vogue,
As at Lourdes, yesteryear, and now a saint's affect
Induces multitudes, of the sheepish male rogue.
Madame Ann or saint Ann, whatever sobriquet
She'd chosen, a castle's history, notwithstanding,
Had to face facts, to the politician's dismay,
Vocation-wise, sought to seek something less demanding.
Successful enterprise, a dream that had come true!
Financial success, despite good business patterns,
Brought about disaster, bank accounts don't accrue,
With spouses insisting, "Forego, saint Ann slatterns!"
The plans of mice and men go astray, sages say,
At a time inconvenient. Observe the wary,
Be it king or madam, like a cat at its play,
On four feet, they will land, a posteriori.
The palace of St. Ann's, by a madam's design
With the encouragement of a township jurist,
Face-lifted castle and mistress, both of a kind,
Coffers are filling from the curious tourist.
Poems From the Goober Tree