"crownless" poems
All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.
13k
I've watched too late; the morn is near;
One look at God's broad silent sky!
Oh, hopes and wishes vainly dear,
How in your very strength ye die!
Even while your glow is on the cheek,
And scarce the high pursuit begun,
The heart grows faint, the hand grows weak,
The task of life is left undone.
See where upon the horizon's brim,
Lies the still cloud in gloomy bars;
The waning moon, all pale and dim,
Goes up amid the eternal stars.
Late, in a flood of tender light,
She floated through the ethereal blue,
A softer sun, that shone all night
Upon the gathering beads of dew.
And still thou wanest, pallid moon!
The encroaching shadow grows apace;
Heaven's everlasting watchers soon
Shall see thee blotted from thy place.
Oh, Night's dethroned and crownless queen!
Well may thy sad, expiring ray
Be shed on those whose eyes have seen
Hope's glorious visions fade away.
Shine thou for forms that once were bright,
For sages in the mind's eclipse,
For those whose words were spells of might,
But falter now on stammering lips!
In thy decaying beam there lies
Full many a grave on hill and plain,
Of those who closed their dying eyes
In grief that they had lived in vain.
Another night, and thou among
The spheres of heaven shalt cease to shine,
All rayless in the glittering throng
Whose lustre late was quenched in thine.
Yet soon a new and tender light
From out thy darkened orb shall beam,
And broaden till it shines all night
On glistening dew and glimmering stream.
3.6k
Eagle of Austerlitz! where were thy wings
When far away upon a barbarous strand,
In fight unequal, by an obscure hand,
Fell the last scion of thy brood of Kings!
Poor boy! thou shalt not flaunt thy cloak of red,
Or ride in state through Paris in the van
Of thy returning legions, but instead
Thy mother France, free and republican,
Shall on thy dead and crownless forehead place
The better laurels of a soldier’s crown,
That not dishonoured should thy soul go down
To tell the mighty Sire of thy race
That France hath kissed the mouth of Liberty,
And found it sweeter than his honied bees,
And that the giant wave Democracy
Breaks on the shores where Kings lay couched at ease.
2.8k
You used to be a lamp to nightly eyes,
You are a star right now,
You used to be a rose so fine and nice,
Where is that flower-brow?
You have become a woman, proud and pretty,
Just like a crownless queen,
I cannot blame your growth and change and ties,
You never had a vow.
Apr 18, 2018
Apr 18, 2018 at 1:08 PM UTC
dragons in my dreams
drag queens on my streets
where was I to hide?
falling
through toxic clouds
of atomic belched aphorisms
holding my nose ‘til my lungs
screamed primal screams
that nobody ever heard
with their ears stopped
like the rowers of Ulysses
while he listened to the
sirens
I heard them too, I heard them, I HEARD them
faintly,
like the whiffed spread of black buzzards’ wings before the ****
but the sirens have beards, those wily wenches
and smell of cat ****
naked enough to have me covet
what they are not
I want them, I need them
for I don’t know what bliss is
bliss, bliss, bliss
is that what I sought?
is that what sages taught?
when they had me kneel
and put a wreath upon my head
told me to chant, silently, inwardly
told me there was no shortage of truth
I heard them, cherished every word,
no matter how absurd
because I thought they could help me fly
but then I choked on the smoke
from their farted anointed flames
that filled the sky I was told was blue
it was not only me
to whom they lied
who would not fall prey to their fiery shafts?
but when I awoke, they were not there
and all that was left in the waking world
were the scabbed burns they left on my soul
the dying crownless queens
who roamed the oily streets
the stench in my flaring nostrils
and the bit in my teeth
no chariot to fly above those **** filled clouds
that would rain vain vapid truth on me
for the rest of my unholy days…
the rest of my unholy days
Sep 24, 2012
Sep 24, 2012 at 10:02 PM UTC
All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.
Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 4:20 PM UTC
A crownless king lies beside me
Each night as the day surrenders
Singing a song, playing a game
With the moon of the twenty eight days
Heavenly voice breaks through the air
As the story unravels its blossoms
Making us sway from side to side
Embraced together in the face of love
At dawn of day as the light creeps in
It feels like we are kissing the sky
This king in my arms, his virtues and charms
Bring each day new dream to life
Dec 12, 2016
Dec 12, 2016 at 11:00 AM UTC
Our hearts are locked inside a ribbon cage
fluttering in silky chains
bleeding out in silent rage
spelling swears out in red stains
*And right on cue the scissor-lady comes
to the rounds of applause and rolls of drums
snapping blades and leaving scars
cutting ‘way the ribbon bars*
She wears a belt of stolen rings
cut of the fingers of the old
long forgotten crownless kings
tarnish gold selling the truth retold
*And right on cue the scissor-lady comes
to the rounds of applause and rolls of drums
snapping blades and leaving scars
cutting ‘way the ribbon bars*
Beware of the queen of hearts
dashing in next lave affair
*
And right on cue the scissor-lady comes
to the rounds of applause and rolls of drums
snapping blades and leaving stains
cutting ‘way the pulsing veins*
Feb 21, 2016
Feb 21, 2016 at 2:57 PM UTC
Yet the sun's coming down to earth,
and walks the fields and the waters
Yet the great man's willing to be little
Neither those raised heads
Nor those unguarded egos
Mismatching the faces and matching the souls
Can this heart ever show
look beyond the imperfections
There lies this perfect soul
where this heart has had ached
where this soul has had cried
Now is the time
To show the world,
your built up glory
your glowing charm..
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 12:01 PM UTC
All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.
Feb 25, 2013
Feb 25, 2013 at 12:01 AM UTC
i'm a crownless queen
left to wander the wastes
searching for a princess
with whom i can replace
Jul 7, 2020
Jul 7, 2020 at 3:17 PM UTC
My bed is a king
But I am no royalty
For it is incomplete
Without a queen
Yet I never deserved one
A kid can be no king
Nor can he control a kingdom
Relieved of this duty
For control of so many
No pleasure, only pressure
Oct 7, 2021
Oct 7, 2021 at 11:33 AM UTC
When people die we sleep in graves—
Where do memories go when they die?
To the same place where broken dreams go?
Where the sky is dark:
no up, no down, no before, no after?
To the land of could-have-beens,
Where lost souls wander, where the deathless cry?
Or to a land beneath a lilac sky,
To some sweet place in a far green country,
by a river at the edge of night?
Where the crownless are king,
And the wingless fly?
Apr 20, 2019
Apr 20, 2019 at 6:22 PM UTC
The crownless head is unbearably light,
while the body floats off into the night,
with limbs popping like balloons against a jagged sky.
Fools pressed and folded inside paper walls.
The echo of one passionate wail can tear this whole thing apart,
but to think twice would be to think for far too long.
The trick is to convince yourself that you're not only dreaming.
That this scene features more than just one meaning:
To wake up screaming in a silent movie.
To spew vibrant ***** all over these monochrome paintings.
(To dance in a bathroom while the discharge of bowels are drowning down the bowl.)
To crease rays until your shadowed mainstay bathes in fire -
stealing meaning from featureless things to replace the ones you've been leaking your whole life.
Nov 8, 2016
Nov 8, 2016 at 10:28 PM UTC
I got ways to go, believe me,
The coldest ever—anaemic.
Stripping down the vices,
And by that, I mean me, myself, and I, *****
The lord, call me your highness,
But don’t confuse me for the kindest.
Taking a stand isn’t the vilest—
Approach just like the golden touch, the Midas.
Reprimanding the bezoar,
Leavin’ all the poison behind us.
Close your eyes if you don’t want 'em to find us!
The God? I’m not Osiris.
I lack the means to guide us.
The path of the finest—
A fantasy, only to remind us
Of all the fallacies I sold to the crownless.
But what of the fellow deceased?
I mean the fellow seized!
The dreams of the unguarded,
The sin that we started,
To get us rewarded.
I killed the Open-Hearted,
Now dearly departed.
You reap what you sow—
Left me deep in the snow.
I peeked through the hole,
But there’s only me, the sole.
I staged a show,
To feel a little more,
But I never opened the door.
Now I see you no more.
You were sweet, a little slow—
Deserved love so much more.
But I lacked the gall,
And you took the fall.
I was built to protect you,
But you never left that little door.
Smiled a little more,
Should’ve hugged you some more.
Now echoes of silence haunt the floor.
You’re gone, and I see you no more.
I am to blame for this nuisance,
I am to blame for this rapture—
If only I didn’t fail to capture.
If I tripped, you too tripped—
Brother, we were trippin’.
I took a hit, felt sick, should’ve listened.
Where’s my foresight? My vision?
Where’s my f**kin’ intuition?
To hell with my indecision—
Blinded by pride, deaf to collisions.
Never cared so much for religion.
But you were the dawn of this coalition.
Fruitful conviction,
So much to offer, a pondering decision.
Rage consumed me; I created diversion.
Hateful I got for not understanding your assertion.
You had the gusto, a remarkable vision—
But I doubted and embarked on evasion.
Cursed at my frustration,
But no one was there to listen.
I carried the mission,
Prying open wounds to find division.
But I didn’t see my mistake.
Argued and raged, thinking I’d escape.
I broke, woke—but still bore the same face.
Tried to retaliate,
But it was too late to recalibrate.
I over-narrate, couldn’t hesitate.
Thought anger was relief, never did validate.
So much arrogance I failed to navigate.
Kinda felt like Medusa—
A head (ahead) of snakes, my own accuser.
-Asher Graves
Apr 12, 2025
Apr 12, 2025 at 7:17 AM UTC
All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be the blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king
-J.R.R. Tolkien
Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 4:56 AM UTC
I see you
bursting like dolphins
from a grassy sea.
Crownless,
it is for the light on your leaves
I would honor you.
Silver rippling, with the breeze and the thunder.
And you among them
still, with gold on your bent
stalk. My heart goes out to you.
Linger a little longer, fairest
one. When spring comes again
I will look for you.
Sep 14, 2024
Sep 14, 2024 at 4:07 PM UTC