He feigns strength,
gilds his world golden.
His name. His visage. His way.
Trumpian mythology
built lie by lie, threat by threat.
Its depth unimaginable,
bottomless pit of greed, racism.
So self-consumed is he,
blind to his wax wings melting.
Truth’s flame is invincible
Written for Quadrille Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today De asks us to include the word “myth” or a form of the word in a poem of exactly 44 words sans title.
Reference is made to mythology’s Icarus whose wings were made of wax…which led to his demise when he flew too close to the sun.
lillian the home poet 
Nicely done, Lill! I can’t wait to see the fall of that awful man.
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That rotting, melting pumpkin adds even more visual power to this poem, Lill.
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Blinded to his melting wings! Very well done, Lillian. We were thinking along the same lines on this one!
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Similar patterns of thought indeed. November can’t come soon enough!
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:>)
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If only he were a myth.
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Nice metaphor and I love the Trumpian adjective…👌
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Sadly, it is our new reality.
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Yes….and November can’t come soon enough!
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Yeah, he is a rotten pumpkin. Rotting before our eyes.
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fantastic quadrille, great image
much love
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I cant imagine who you are thinking of! 🙂
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We were on the same wavelength with our quadrilles, Lill.
“Trumpian mythology
built lie by lie,” So true!
I always think Icarus had the excuse of youth–like the young men who go off to war thinking they’re invincible. The demented one doesn’t have that excuse.
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Wonderfully stated!!! The wax wings are melting, crash and burn. Can’t be soon enough. 🙂
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Lillian there are days i feel positively bone weary, brain weary … your poetry is the perfect illustration of why.
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Yes indeed. A legend in his own mind. Nice one, Lill.
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