poem, rhyme

To who an apprentice to be? 

Before I had my rags removed,
I molded a man after my own

Image, as I moved 

Through the tiny stage of town.

His name was Buckley the Baker.

The sweets he made melted hearts of stone;

They turned wars in the streets into wars for the Maker,

And churned minds away from the phone.

He had a mushy beard, that

made him resemble Santa Clause. 

But I was mad I at him about what I heard

during one dark pause.

Head down, 

looking like an upside down clown

After the baker asked with his nose turned up, head shaking

“Who is that boy interested in baking?”

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/apprentice/

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Saw a bird

I saw a bird today

It uttered words of the hope of the King.

Also of turmoil and of dismay.

I listened, hoping on what next it would bring

 

Kings like David,

It foretold of their glory.

Of his perfect story,

To be marred by sins too avid.

 

It also spoke of King Solomon,

The wisest man who will ever traverse the earth.

His question was but one that will be common,

T’was for his wisdom not to dearth.

 

He talked of the King of kings, sitting on the throne.

Of his splendour and mercy and majesty.

The sacrifice for my life’s amnesty,

For me not to be a sin’s drone.

 

He spoke more still, of the King who made the kings.

With eyes casting shadows into the distance

Its beak moved with ferocity as its words escaped like fire rings,

That would consume future hearts, leaving behind a dark substance.

 

“When?” I began to ask.

I guessed the question to be a heavy task.

For the bird fluttered away,

Telling me not the day, nor the hour of Judgement day.