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Lost ones have been found;
Once in Adam, now in Christ
Covered by His blood,
Now reflecting glory bright

Who am I?
That the God who made all things
Took my crown of thorns
To bestow one fit for kings
Many kings there have been,
Many those who tried to leave their mark,
and thought that they left.
They were destroyed by nature and time,
in some years.
Nature and time, the real kings, they spare none.
Yet, the one who lives for others,
becomes a sweetheart of these kings...

© Manan sheel.
I just watched the movie 'Kedarnath' and my poem is inspired by the movie :) :)
In our day and age, our kings and queens have gone into hiding.
Our emperor's, fly from sky-top to sky-top, hidden by mile-wide clocks and daggers
In our day and age. Power rides the four horsemen at night,
They no longer slither on the ground, but roar in the wisp-o-willow of the night.
Power is played with its greatest device; ignorance in a haystack of knowledge.
I think
what saves today’s commercial xmas hype
from being absolutely nauseous
is the wide-eyed joy of children
when they open their gifts
and find their dreams come true

a faint echo
of the joy in the eyes of the Kings
when after their long travails
they discovered the baby of their dreams
had miraculously become reality
O’ my Dear
Do not fear
All the burden
All the sorrow
Just bear

Your tears are precious
Don’t let it waste
Save it, collect it
Wait for the time to come
Then use your anger to boil it

O’ my Dear
Let your tears to
Become steam
Such steam has power to
Burn Kings and their Kingdom

Such steam has power to
Turn the entire empire upside down
So don’t be in haste
Wait for the time to come
Transform your tears into warfare weapons

So my Dear
Don’t cry, bear the brunt
Recognize the Power of Tears
Then conquer the evil
Change the world

Create a world full of joy
No Sorrow, No Burden
Joy and Joy forever
Peace and calm everywhere
Happiness, Happiness everywhere
Do the poor peoples who are always sufferer have no  options?
Karo Dec 2018
if we aim high
oh we may
land among the stars
wouldn't it be
nitelite Nov 2018
by his betrayal to the dormant blood flow of life
in moonlight who preaches insanity, anarchy,
who taunts the wicked mind in its present neutrality
where the provocation is of being blank and yet overbearing,
such accentuates the interim shadows etched into a dirtied slate,
thus that light that kills makes his mind primitive, soul, sedate,
and apart from all, his body who became its own ruler

spectral projections in his image surfaced
as the fingertips ripped through its own ribcage
and dethroned His Hapless Majesty in repressed rage
and an animated husk continued forth
even though the hostless spirit was delicate in its wake,
so free from each others' demands, the two had liberties to take.
and so thus they spent decades in total alienation

but in time, like a king with no subjects, the Mind wavered so,
and the Frame, like a guardian with no duty, faltered the same,
and like clockwork, fate had cursed the two that one became,
and by the moon's blinding and blank light a revelation held
that craving ensued for the beings to become whole again,
as the Mind haunted folklore, the Frame men,
as a means of searching, to reunite and rest as an ultimatum.

and they keep searching
a mindless body, and a bodiless mind
perhaps never to reunite
in punishment of denouncing their being
it was a truth he sought,
though never foreseeing the truth he forgot.
it was a race to command insanity and misery.
happy late Halloween! (very late)
this was my take at storytelling and a little bit more of an ominous, more folklore-y kind of tone, which i felt was decently timed with Halloween.
this kind of storytelling im not super used to, so any suggestions/feedback (public or private) would be super appreciated!
Vexren4000 Oct 2018
Tales of tribulation,
trail and error,
Times long gone,
eras of myth and men,
Gods and legend,
Even the mightiest of statues crumble,
The largest of kingdoms fall,
To assume it will not happen to us,
To the world at large,
Is foolhardy and childish.

Hannah Chin Oct 2018
A thousand monarchs sit upon their thrones
Side by side, flashing their wings now and then.
Gusts of wind blow through and shake their bones.
A monarch falls from his throne to his end.

Time flies and the seasons change
A million monarch’s sit upon their thrones.
Wind blows a fierce kiss within their range
Two monarch’s fall with shouts and groans.

The monarchs’ thrones have grown
Their borders reaching far and wide.
The winds of change have now flown
Calling the monarch’s to abide.

Time flies and the seasons change
A billion monarchs have wistfully flown
They, stretching their wings of age,
Now leave bare their once beautiful thrones.

The branches they once sat upon
Now stripped and bare, lay susceptible
To the wind’s every whim, rarely fond.
The branches hang alone as a crucible.

Time flies and the seasons change.
The monarchs have left their thrones
Have left the constant for a change.
To the ground to wait, they have flown.
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