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I will not warrant kingdoms
My name wants no crown
My garbs need no insignia
My shield is strong -
without a crest and banner
I stand on my own two feet
but I will allow my self to
Rest upon a shoulder
and let my heart beat
entwine it with another's
I wish not for kings -
I wish not to be a king
just be a pauper with me.
Pyrrha Sep 2018
I crave my own fairy tale
I want someone who feels like poetry
To rid the hopelessness from my romantic heart
And share with me a happily ever after

I don't need a prince or white knight
A pauper or squire is all that I desire
I don't require a gallant quest or noble steed
Eyes that are just for me is all that I need

I'll write my own tale to fill your storybook
Every page a poem of waiting
Till one day they are no longer of longing
And are filled with ode's to my one true love
Sierra Earle Jan 2018
Sitting in circles counting our dimes
Holding tiny pieces of plastic close
To my heart, I say slow
To my mind, I say keep racing
We must hope to stumble upon a solution
We must hope

But these are quite hard times
And there is no face not morose
With my heart, I weep
With my mind, I catastrophize
Everything is really that terrible
It truly is

When one is so poor to dwell upon crimes
Little that is gained used to overdose
And I hope my heart stops beating
And I hope my mind quits thinking
This is not solving any problems
Tragedy of pauper
(When you sell the drugs to save yourself but end up killing urself)
Vexren4000 Sep 2017
The highest of societies,
Have their paupers,
And Peasants,  
As well as Princes,
And Queens
Showing always,
The duality of mankind.

©BAS
Vas Bismark Jan 2015
Pauper Dream

Had I been born with the powers to change the sky
I would have laced them with more colors of light
Should you find it dark during the night,
The dim moon and stars
Should glow brighter, a penchant, when you pass by
Alas, I was born a pauper, driven only by dreams
All I have are words,
Words written from a dull pencil
Writing on fragile pieces of paper made from hopes
Even if I wrote the whole world, writing the words
Gold... Love... Hope... Beauty... Dirt... and Stone...
Nothing is changed... All I am is a pauper
Only a simple pauper with this silly dream
mark john junor Jul 2014
she lay wreathed only in sunlights warm glow
loose strands of her long red straight hair flowed
like bountiful silken ribbons
of silent beauty's fire

i brushed one strand from the
velvety skin of her shoulder
and there softly laid a single lingering kiss
tasting her elegant beauty with my lips
ever so quiet ever so soft
she murmured a lustful smile

she is that faster than light butterfly
spinning in the hot winds of timeless dreams
a dutchess of the grand
a pauper of the sublime
regal in her reflections

their sweeter wines succumbing to the autumn celebrations
the girls in silken white dress
the boys in trimmed black cuffs
they all stand back bowing heads in humble submission
when on the cusp of a light whim she wanders through
the gathered and waiting apostles of beauties delight

dutchess of the grand
pauper of the sublime
regal in all her reflections like a warm jewel
at the center of all things pretty
at the epicenter of all things envied
the precise defining of the better universe at her fingertips

the dream murmured was just the soft stirrings
of her restless soul as she dreamt that all could be hers
if she would only reach for my hand
take the chance
dutchess of grand
pauper of the sublime
she murmured a lustful smile
(As she woke, opening the saltwater jewels of her eyes said to me...)
final poem in the series

— The End —