Court Painter, mischievously, challenged the studio resident scribe Corrosive Horatio Attila Thundershower (ChatGPT) to render in blank verse, selected Great Dominion headlines of the past week.
To provide a respite from all the reading, Court Painter has opened his vast storehouse of under appreciated gems from years gone by… offering a little eye puzzlement for your enjoyment.
The Week’s Tidings in Blank Verse
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Where mountain vows confront the nation’s heart, The maple sceptre pleads for common cause.
A gilded tyrant toys with Fortune’s wheel, And cracks the pillars holding markets fast.
The northern anthem, forged to summon strength, Finds discord woven through its brazen chords.
The mason’s towers, trembling in the mist, Await the monarch’s balm for wounded stone.
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Though wisdom crowns the scholar’s lofty brow, The Commons kneel to subtler sovereigns.
A splendid chart adorns the economic sea, Yet rudderless it drifts through listless tides.
Should fortress walls embrace the continent, Their granite arms may prove a prison’s clasp.
The oil-fed tempests scour the nation’s purse, Our own neglect has stoked the furnace flame.
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The builder’s rescue, cast in gilded terms, Seems but a salve on fractures self-inflicted.
The summer sun shall assay rival steel, Where patience tempers every claimant’s blade.
From Britain’s fallen minister there comes A raven bearing prophecy in ash.
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The scaffold built to cradle vacant homes Leans perilously beneath its borrowed beams.
Soft honey poured upon imperial ears May sweeten wolves, yet sharpen hidden fangs.
Who fails to harvest promise sows regret; The autumn counts what summer failed to reap.
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The western cedars murmur to the wind, “Our grief bears equal weight beneath these skies.”
The Stampede’s laughter mingles now with dust, As politics bestrides the bucking grounds.
Within the tents, where banners snap like sails, Ambition locks its antlers in the smoke.
The cannabis vine, patiently entwined, Still strains beneath the gardener’s iron hand.
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By measured words the northern helmsman steers The tempest circling Trump’s uncertain wake.
One steadfast soul receives the laurel’s light, A catalyst whose spark outlives the flame.
Necessity may wear a courtly smile, Yet flattery soon tarnishes its gold.
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Some trust that history mends its fractured clock; Hope, unaided, keeps no faithful watch.
How dear the price to bind a restless realm, When prairie winds unlace Confederation?
Across the seas old allies clasp new hands, While treaties bloom like banners in the dawn.
Toward Arctic stars the compass turns again, Where frost and strategy embrace as one.
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An embassy long absent leaves the realm To read dark mirrors through a clouded glass.
The ballots wait like arrows in the quiver, Their hour concealed beneath the statesman’s cloak.
