Zakuraba
12-13-2006, 05:22 AM
Hello there. I'm new to this forum, and online-literature.com as a whole. Just stumbled across these forums while doing a generic search on the web. Built the courage to make an account and post. This is my first post on these forums, so I just wanted to share a poem I wrote. I am just another casual poetry writer who is looking for some feedback. I have no real idea of verse and meter, I just sort of write poetry to fuel my own creative growth. I've never even actually shared my poems, much less had them commented on, but I was just wondering if you'd all be so kind as to perhaps provide some comments. Good or bad, as long as they are honest, I suppose. Thank you for your time.
The Pauper King
I met a Pauper King once, sitting on a throne of rubble
With rags instead of robes, and instead of riches, struggles
He wore a paper crown, upon his ashen head
And instead of gold and silver, his treasures amounted of lead
No subjects within his court, his audience mere mice and stones
Beneath his tattered vestments, were housed only weary bones
A cheerless air he wore, complimented with hollow eyes
“What is wrong your grace,” I asked him, but he gave naught a reply
Til finally I rose up thus, and commenced to walk away
A hoarse and meek voice I heard, beckoning me to stay
“Young sire do bid me company, for long since I’ve had such a pleasure
I beg of you your presence, an audience for a King’s measure
Not always was I such, this dismal state you now discern
Years past I was a regal king, formidable and stern
But how quickly did I learn, how soon earthly attributes fade
Never in my years, had I realized my own sweet charade
For fifty years I reigned, upon this Throne of Hopes
My seat built upon the dreams that by my own hands were broke
With an iron fist I ruled, under the name of God and law
Lavishing in a House of Gold, while my subjects dwelled in straw
Little care within my heart I held, for the servants of my domain
Until one by one they departed, and none in my kingdom remained
None save for I, a king whose own wrath he did befall
A prisoner to my own devices, a captive within my own walls.
Before you take your leave fair lad, one thing of this you must know,”
So upon me one last morsel of advice his former majesty did bestow
Finally the Pauper King did tell me, “To rule is to behold,”
The depths of one’s own villainy, and corruption of one’s own soul.”
The Pauper King
I met a Pauper King once, sitting on a throne of rubble
With rags instead of robes, and instead of riches, struggles
He wore a paper crown, upon his ashen head
And instead of gold and silver, his treasures amounted of lead
No subjects within his court, his audience mere mice and stones
Beneath his tattered vestments, were housed only weary bones
A cheerless air he wore, complimented with hollow eyes
“What is wrong your grace,” I asked him, but he gave naught a reply
Til finally I rose up thus, and commenced to walk away
A hoarse and meek voice I heard, beckoning me to stay
“Young sire do bid me company, for long since I’ve had such a pleasure
I beg of you your presence, an audience for a King’s measure
Not always was I such, this dismal state you now discern
Years past I was a regal king, formidable and stern
But how quickly did I learn, how soon earthly attributes fade
Never in my years, had I realized my own sweet charade
For fifty years I reigned, upon this Throne of Hopes
My seat built upon the dreams that by my own hands were broke
With an iron fist I ruled, under the name of God and law
Lavishing in a House of Gold, while my subjects dwelled in straw
Little care within my heart I held, for the servants of my domain
Until one by one they departed, and none in my kingdom remained
None save for I, a king whose own wrath he did befall
A prisoner to my own devices, a captive within my own walls.
Before you take your leave fair lad, one thing of this you must know,”
So upon me one last morsel of advice his former majesty did bestow
Finally the Pauper King did tell me, “To rule is to behold,”
The depths of one’s own villainy, and corruption of one’s own soul.”