ONLINE YOUTH LITERARY MAGAZINE

The Elysian Muse

Youth literary magazine

The Elysian Muse

Photography by Silja Pietilä, 17, Finland

Photography by Safia Henniche, 16, Boston

Dear Readers and Contributors,

 

I would like to take the opportunity to personally thank you all for the continuous love and support, especially through the pandemic. In just under 6 months, we’ve come so far; the magazine has been featured on Publish YOUth Writing and Poets & Writers, and the editorial team reached a whooping milestone of 400+ Advice Articles written! As we continue grow our global outreach, we’ve published over 280 creators from 25 U.S. States, 25 countries, and 6 continents across the world! 

 

It’s been a pleasure growing this community over the past three years, so I know I speak for the entire editorial board when I say we hold this magazine and our contributors close to our heart. It takes a tremendous amount of research and effort to manage the magazine, which is why we're so thankful for all of your support. We encourage you to share our publications and Advice Articles to help our other young creators who may be interested in pursuing their craft.

 

Cheers,

Lori Khadse

Founder, Nonfiction Editor in Chief

The Elysian Muse Youth Literary Magazine

Editors' Choice Works

 

Long Live our Holy King

Written by Anvi Joshi

 

 

When Hate abdicated the throne 

So did rise beauty. 

And it was not His face,

But His crowns 

That inspired faith in the gentry.

The dripping jewels dipped down, 

Enticed both the thieves and the weaker. 

His scandal added to His weight 

Of gold and silver metal. 

If He had ever been kind 

History would have shuddered, 

For the world was already attracted,

Society been caught in love with its captor.

 

That was the day 

The people started to sing.

Appraising they said, 

“Long Live 

our Holy King”.

 

The people gathered expectantly. 

Shaking in fear, 

Stumbling with honor 

As each new victim knelt 

In front of their lovely ruler. 

His clothes seemed to change 

With each judgement call,

But His face stayed the same

Unparalleled symmetry, unparalleled drama.

For the inside always stays constant 

And the outside harbors the problems. 

 

That was the day 

The people screamed through their trauma, 

As the heads of the guilty 

Rolled on bloody marble.

Fearfully they said,

“Long Live 

our Holy King”.

 

That powerful creature needed no sword   

For He held the hands of the executioners, 

Pitted the rich of Himself against the poorer.

He reminded them not everyone could be a ruler 

For with every man who wished to kneel at His feet

To beg for a bit of the bauble and jewel 

There was another who was in jail for deceit 

But no treason can phase the most duplicitous ruler.  

 

Those were the days 

The people began to whisper

As He controlled the way they spoke

Made them talk and walk like ‘perfect’ boys and girls. 

Carefully they said, 

“Long Live

 our Holy King”. 

 

The grievances of His people were sins 

Of peeling off sunspots like blemishes, 

Turning away bronze for gold rings,

Scoffing at imperfections as if diseases.

Young admirers cut out their tongues because

The beauty of their King’s words put theirs to shame

For His castle was a breeding ground for insecurity.

Humanity’s humility withering 

As the character of a man faded to obscurity. 

And while His people bleed out envy,

Their vices held them captive

And He smiled with the death threat 

of a ransom note

For He already had them.

 

That was the day 

the people began to beg-weary

To their new Master.

Appeasingly they said,

“Long Live 

our Holy King”.

 

Yesterday He sat upon a shimmering throne,

Ruling with an iron fist.

He dictated emotions the way He does His subjects,

Discriminated between the content and the dying, 

But not the healthy pretty, and the pretty sick.

As corruption bled into the minds of the people

He wore His adoration like bracelets,

Humanity His crown jewel

And its vanity His prized possession. 

 

Today will be the day

The people scrub at their mirrors,

Wipe away the false words 

And hopefully tell themselves

They no longer need the deceitful, 

Lips, or eyes, or lovers

To bow down to their terrible ruler. 

And yet, even if it happens

The people hear the sound 

Of someone off in the night 

Screaming, wailing, singing, begging

Again.

“Long Live 

our Holy King”.

 

 

 

Anvi Joshi is a 17 year old writer and poet from New Jersey and she's been honorably mentioned in the Scholastic Arts and Writing Contest for her poetry and her journalism. Her favorite author (and one of her biggest role models) is Maggie Stiefvater! You can read some more of her work on A Lack of Clarity.