MarieMarieIt was the dress which makers called so boldTightly the flowers does she holdHer thin painted lips quiver in frightShimmer does the light fabric into the nightA heavy grey wig sits upon her headHer once beautiful face is dusted with leadNecklaces of pearls are positioned with careGloves to the elbows, the lace to not tearThe black French mark under her noseThere are satin shoes squishing her toesHer lungs are pressed; she can barely breatheAll she wants is for well-wishers to leaveShe is sick of the people, gasping in joyThis era's beauty is worth no boyBut her mother would be so distressed She has to do i
Chic Queen faces GuillotineAlluring and fashionable was Marie Antoinette,Who played at being shepherdess and coquette.But the Queen's clothes and games were expensive,And the starving peasants, who paid, grew restive. So, finally, in Revolution, rose France's citizenry, And stripped pretty Marie of all her riches and finery.France's once hot and "oh so chic" beauty Queen,Met her fate by the cold blade of the guillotine.
Fall of Danton and DesmoulinsI wrote this short piece in honor of the 217th anniversary of the Thermidorian Reaction, when Maximilien and Augustin Robespierre were sent to execution. It's kind of silly, but I felt I should do something to remember them. I hope you like it.The season was early spring, and even the heaviest shutters could not keep the brilliant Paris sunlight out of my brother's small flat. Maximilien had closed them tightly, preferring to work without the distractions of the Rue Saint-Honoré outside, but even he could not completely block out the world below. Persistent rays slipped between the wooden slats, accompanied by the warm fragrance of spr