This king sits insipid; his right will hid.
His mind fills with spilling milk, twisting wild. 
Biting sting grips.  Fit spits ill ilk

Pining wind sighs limp.
It is still.

Bird trilling strings wind with thrills.
Wings inching in sight, swinging high with skill, 
Singing drips bliss, knitting split thinking, 
Snips stifling film, pricking pity, 

Visit stirs this king. 
Light is lit within, lifting spirits in kind.

---

---

This Poem is a lipogram I wrote for my poetry class. A lipogram is a poem that restricts itself to using only one vowel. The king is a King Saul type figure, afflicted by madness, but soothed by the skillful music of a passing bird and brought back to sanity, at least for the moment.