• Tripti Biswas


The ugly queen, Bold and prim,

Gross and grim

At times,

The scarred queen, held her screams,

At battlefields,

At nights.

Loved by men and women equal,

No less than a gracious king she was,

They called her after the goddess, in honour,

As beautiful as Medusa she was,

Eyes as dark as the night sky,

Yet gentle as the doe so shy.

For, She the un-wooed queen,

Kingless and preening,

Cleaning off the blood of the kings,

For herself

Had she killed her own dearest darlings.

Burnt her first, stabbed her second,

Slayed her third, the fourth beheaded,

Fifth decayed alive in his grave,

Sixth died as a tortured slave,

Seventh, she starved him to his death,

Eighth got poisoned in his bed,

Ninth, got pushed from the castle tall,

Tenth, yet waiting his fall.

For cruel was the queen in her whims,

Drinking on the screams,

Sharp and shrill,

Yet, crueller were the Kings she killed.

Enjoying their nasty meals.

In battle fields, with dreading heart,

She Asked for mercy for her cruel crimes.

Prayed for the lives lost,

At the feet of the sacred shrine.

Beauty, she wasn't blessed with, but with a heart divine.

The gentle hands that wielded the sword,

Had tended to wounds deep bored.

For those long locks that

With the enemies' blood,

Had turned dark

Had once swayed in summer breeze,

As if the feathers

Of a singing lark.

The eyes that could turn life to stone

And resurrect the man forlorn,

Sat proudly on her throne,

For she was home,

The ugly queen, the true claimer of the crown,

The righteous king she was, with her kingly gown,

The scarred daughter Of the huge town,

The Lordess of her people,

Goddess of the crowd,

For people's queen she was,

Needing of no man, the ugly queen,


Warrior proud.

Written by Mimi Myra Falcon (Tripti Biswas),


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