king – Smith Shine Poetry

The King’s Head

The Poet’s Cry Before the Fall As the bells chime on this night,I fill the glass with wine,And by the candle’s fading light,I begin my cry in rhyme. A night of poetry and prayers,Beneath the ancient throne,For we the people are the heirs,Though the crown it has no home. The kingdom once stood proud andContinue reading “The King’s Head”

Butterfly

The violins cry out for cultural identity. As bullets still fly from klashnikov’s. “The cold is coming.” Sounds the whispers of suicidal writers. Innocence is manipulated, developed, then kills. Released from hate. The defiance, awe inspiring. As caterpillar to butterfly, let the metamorphosis happen. In a white stoned building I see lions in crowns movingContinue reading “Butterfly”