poem of the day July 10 

In a world full

of tired lands

a cock of gold

takes the stand

In a chair blessed

by the Duke of York

waits a nameless chef

versed in wild pork

His hands approach

the fighter's bell

will many medals

sold only in hell

Their spices mixed

with fantastical dreams

brew a Coq Au Vin

in the great tureen

A good strong mix

of poor weak genesis 

decides who speak

without a lisp

But the words they say

are most profound 

in a world that

lost the circle round