Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2019
More belongs to he who holds the stone,
Of fortune's birth, the pharaoh of our time.
When words proceed, he directs them;
When foes recede, he compels them.
Hear the labor-stricken bones of men
Wail out from death and sooted soil:
Hail the River King, our stoneworks praise him!
Hail the River King, the rushes raise him!
Written by
Dawnstar  out of the blue
(out of the blue)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems