Philippe le Bel, the puppet king,
Resides within a gilded cage,
Only a king upon a stage,
With nought but clemency to sing.
To the servent of the servents of God,
Philippe is made a slave,
But does he want someone to save
His bloodied soul for almighty God?
Regardless, on the thirteenth friday,
By order of the Seven Hills,
Philippe did sanction many kills,
But the performance was less than tidy.
At least one knight of the Temple survived,
And yet again Philippe contrived.
Bathed in flames the grand master's curse
Would bring for philippe and Clement disaster.
Alexander Steen Stewart
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/friday-13/
