- March 2014
- December 2013
- June 2013
- March 2013
- September 2013
- From the Editor’s Desk
- Bloom Where You Are Planted and Where You Are Transplanted
- The Change Game
- Ten Tender Weeks: The Countdown
- The Chap Who Lives in a Flat
- Conspiracy Theory
- The Closers
- He Knows
- Surprising Steps with a Friendly Wind
- If It Ain’t Broke, Don’t Fix It!
- Walking the Talk
- Message in a Bottle
- January 2013
The Puppet Mistress
The Puppet Mistress
By Nancy Bucca
Love not this elevated queen
Bedecked in hues of limelight green,
Nor trust her posture statuesque,
Divine at times, at times grotesque.
Resist the spell of her eyelashes,
‘Mid the blink of camera flashes,
Lest her silky golden hair
Entwine a hanging to ensnare.
Her sequined hook crochets “new” styles
Through frilly fads and fancy wiles.
With glamour glutted, drunk on glitz,
Her dated ritz is on the fritz
Sly Babel’s lure and self-made bane,
Her cry, “A name!” drives crowds insane.
They seek a stronghold of renown,
But blind ambition lets them down.
Her sweet allure inspired the cow
That “just came out, I don’t know how.”
Claimed Aaron, “It’s a rarity,
This teaching on prosperity.”
“Who cares for popularity?
To search for stars demands a fee.”
Groaned Moses, “It’s idolatry!
You know those strings are never free!”
“The wavering opinion poll
To which they’re nailed requires a toll.
Those strands are slippery and unstable.
To make straight paths she isn’t able.”
He knew the hands which wove the thread
That Naboth raised, then struck him dead.
The man of God she lifted high,
Then treacherously snipped the tie.
She dropped the coal that fanned the fire
Of Nebu’nezzar’s mad desire.
Her crown he craved, his soul was shocked
When three bold men his furnace rocked.
This woman, fleeting as a breeze,
And fading as the mist that flees,
Is riddled with duplicity.
Yet she reveres integrity,
As seen in men like Joseph, who
Refused the wicked thing to do
And when imprisoned didn’t doubt,
But clung to faith and got let out
To royal favor, no disgrace.
He kept the lady in her place.
Christ too refused her boisterous call
And humbly bore the sin of all.
He conquered death. Now she’s his friend.
She’ll stick with him until the end.
Now if you’re wise, it’s Him you’ll follow,
Never her whose vows ring hollow.
She’s quick to leave and to forsake.
To flirt with her’s a big mistake.
You’ve got no chance to beat her game,
It doesn’t pay to worship Fame!
* * *
NANCY BUCCA is a young-at-heart mother of four, with a passion for writing. She is a freelance artist, writer and cartoonist, specializing in humorous skits, plays and children’s stories. You can read more by Nancy at FaithWriters