THE GOOD KING AND THE BAD KING

(a poem by 11 years old Emma)

I had an old teacher,                                            

Yes, he is quite an odd creature,

Everything he said was such surprise,

I promise, you, he is wise!

One day he told me,

Nothing in this world is free.

Especially triumph and success.

I pondered over this,

And asked him how he knew.

He took me to the corner,

And sat down on a chair,

I knew a story would start,

So I sat by his side, and listened.

He spoke of a Bad King,

Greedy and rich,

Who would do anything for more money,

He thought it grew on trees.

Soon all came to hate him,

And some plotted his death.

The public wanted a good king,

Not a lazy, wealth-seeking monster.

One day a stranger arrived at the town,

And he heard of the terrible king.

He soon came up with an elaborate plan,

And asked to see the monarch.

And so, disguised as a rich merchant,

The stranger reasoned with the king.

He described a far away land,

Filled with gold and jewels and wealth.

It was so distant, the journey so long,

Until he would come across a flower,

Made entirely of gold with ruby encrusted petals,

But until then, the walking should continue.

The spoiled king soon fell for the stranger's lies,

He packed his bags with food and drink,

And left the next day at dawn.

It was the last the town ever saw of him.

The stranger soon became the town's Good King,

He was kind and clever and peaceful,

He withdrew the taxes,

And everyone was equal.

Here, my old teacher stopped,

And blinked, as though recovering from a dream.

He stood up slowly and said,

'Remember, try and be the Good King.'

(Emma Dimitrova,  my 11 years old daughter, 24/10/2019)