Dave SmithWhite

Rookie - 128 Points (270552 / Sydney)

The Ballad of Shylock (Part One)

My name is Shylock Jones. I speak in undertones.
And dabble at forensic arts and the phrenology of bones.
My work's not widely known and so in secret can be honed
To a unique, commercial asset, that I possess alone.

My name is Shylock Jones. A confidant to thrones;
The circles that I move in are usually crowned.
The fate of minor nations? Secret Service machinations?
Mere trifles to a polymath unbound!

Now Papworth guessed his fate, but I arrived too late.
He hired me to prevent the crime, I now investigate.
I saw his violent death, an awful smiling death.
I heard the rattle in his lung beat out his foaming breath.

The poison did it's work.
He died a grinning Turk.
The action of it's lethal mix;
His swollen tongue and mouth transfixed.
With the constriction of his throat and lips,
His accumulating facial tics,
Gave way with antic speed to fits,
And that characteristic artifact or quirk.
The strangely sanguine dying man's smirk!

But repute is all I owns. I must be Shylock Jones.
A death like this could damage my career.
So at an instant I resolved to see the problem solved;
The villain of the piece would have no prayer.

From the school of Christian Hope,
There's venerable Miss Anne Thrope.
Lieutenant-Colonel Andrew A. Coward (ret.)
Sits with Miss Bea Haven amid the party
Of Miss Ogden-Nest and Professor Arte.
Next is Miss Belle Lief, a lady, who is desired
As the future spouse of the honorable,
Arthur Sleep, MP, who with Mr. I B Croupe
Completes the company.

Now, at last, this vast repast, is thus arranged,
With the full dissembling cast, the past unchanged
As the present that resembles it behind.
I seek a strange deranged and subtle mind.
And so, with the exception of the deceased,
We'll recreate that fatal feast;
Your actions and positions will be defined.
And like Chesterton's dour priest,
I'll unmask the malignant beast.
I'll raise the dead, and heal the sick and blind!

My name is Shylock Jones. Like a whirlwind or cyclone,
I wreck the plans and schemes of evil men.
My name is Shylock Jones. And like a Daniel in his zone,
I'll drive the savage lion from it's den.

And thus begins this real treat.
So pray dig in, indulge and eat.
The marvelous meat and melon lay supine.
A guilty heart might choose to waste,
This truffle mousse and budgie brace.
The craven soul may stew in juice,
To sauté hate and cook it's goose;
The glaze a paste of lemon sauce and lime.
And too much sprung in mintage,
The wine's a dangerous vintage;
It loosens tongues resourced by secret crime.

So if you listen very close, with your senses uppermost,
And your mind, clear and open, as the oceans off the coast.
I'll tell you without boast when I spied the sprawling host,
Sinking to his knees with the excess of the toast.

I saw the game afoot and where foul murder put
Each of you, the suspects, as only genius could.
I winkled out the clues, the greatest skill I used,
Was to listen to the stories you told to be excused.

But let's not neglect our meal, lest it spoil and congeal.
The evil now concealed has no resource.
The shame that I've uncovered, the secrets I've discovered,
Must wait to be revealed, next course!

Submitted: Tuesday, October 22, 2013
Edited: Tuesday, October 29, 2013


Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (The Ballad of Shylock (Part One) by Dave SmithWhite )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Trending Poets

Trending Poems

  1. Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
  3. If, Rudyard Kipling
  4. Dreams, Langston Hughes
  5. Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
  6. Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
  7. Nothing Gold Can Stay, Robert Frost
  8. Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
  9. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, Maya Angelou
  10. Tonight I can write the saddest lines, Pablo Neruda

Poem of the Day

poet Oscar Wilde

(In memoriam
C. T. W.
Sometime trooper of the Royal Horse Guards
obiit H.M. prison, Reading, Berkshire
July 7, 1896)


He did not wear his scarlet coat,
...... Read complete »


Modern Poem

poet Ruth Stone


Member Poem

New Poems

  1. Fluid Insturmental Intellect, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
  2. Satisfied, Robert Ronnow
  3. Ones Parents, michael walkerjohn
  4. Fascinating Images, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
  5. Dwelling In Perfection, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
  6. A Line to You, Olufayo Ezekiel
  7. Remedy to Find, Tirupathi Chandrupatla
  8. Inner Workings, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
  9. Colours, Daniel Rimero
  10. India's Rhythms, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
[Hata Bildir]