The Dead King
EDWARD VII.
Who in the Realm to-day lays down dear life for the sake of a land more dear?
And, unconcerned for his own estate, toils till the last grudged sands have run?
Let him approach. It is proven here
Our King asks nothing of any man more than Our King himself, has done.
For to him above all was Life good, above all he commanded
Her abundance full-handed.
The peculiar treasure of Kings was his for the taking:
All that men come to in dreams he inherited waking: --
His marvel of world-gathered armies -- one heart and all races;
His seas 'neath his keels when his war-castles foamed to their places;
The thundering foreshores that answered his heralded landing;
The huge lighted cities adoring, the assemblies upstanding;
The Councils of Kings called in haste to learn how he was minded --
The kingdoms, the Powers, and the Glories he dealt with unblinded.
To him came all captains of men, all achievers of glory
Hot from the press of their battles they told him their story.
They revealed him their lives in an hour and, saluting departed,
Joyful to labour afresh -- he had made them new-hearted.
And, since he weighed men from his youth, and no lie long deceived him,
He spoke and exacted the truth, and the basest believed him.
And God poured him an exquisite wine, that was daily renewed to him,
In the clear-welling love of his peoples that daily accrued to him.
Honour and service we gave him, rejoicingly fearless;
Faith absolute, trust beyond speech and a friendship as peerless.
And since he was Master and Servant in all that we asked him,
We leaned hard on his wisdom in all things, knowing not how we tasked him.
For on him each new day laid command, every tyrannous hour,
To confront, or confirm, or make smooth some dread issue of power;
To deliver true, judgment aright at the instant, unaided,
In the strict, level, ultimate phrase that allowed or dissuaded;
To foresee, to allay, to avert from us perils unnumbered,
To stand guard on our gates when he guessed that the watchmen had slumbered;
To win time, to turn hate, to woo folly to service and, mightily schooling
His strength to the use of his Nations, to rule as not ruling.
These were the works of our King; Earth's peace was the proof of them.
God gave him great works to fulfil, and to us the behoof of them.
We accepted his toil as our right -- none spared, none excused him.
When he was bowed by his burden his rest was refused him.
We troubled his age with our weakness -- the blacker our shame to us!
Hearing his People had need of him, straightway he came to us.
As he received so he gave -- nothing grudged, naught denying,
Not even the last gasp of his breath when he strove for us, dying.
For our sakes, without question, he put from him all that he cherished.
Simply as any that serve him he served and he perished.
All that Kings covet was his, and he flung it aside for us.
Simply as any that die in his service he died for us!
Who in the Realm to-day has choice of the easy road or the hard to tread?
And, much concerned for his own estate, would sell his soul to remain in the sun?
Let him depart nor look on Our dead.
Our King asks nothing of any man more than Our King himself has done.
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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The Warrior King
Albert, King of the Belgians,
Lived for his whole reign thro'
The father and friend of his people,
Soldier and statesman, too.
When his armies rode to the carnage,
'Twas their King who rode at their hear
To battle as great Kings battled...
And Albert the King is dead.
Albert, King of the Belgians,
Looking at doomed Louvain,
Wept for the plight of his people,
Grieved for his country's pain.
But the pride of a King upheld him;
The strength of a true King stayed,
And the love of a wise King triumphed
Thro' the travail, undismayed.
Albert, King of the Belgians,
After the red war's close,
Seeking no rest from his labors,
As a builder now arose;
Lending his life to service,
Turning to tasks anew,
Healing his country's war-wounds
Builder and comforter, too.
Albert, King of the Belgians,
Died as a Man would die,
Prone on earth's broad bosom,
Under the open sky.
To a swift and merciful passing,
Here went, at the end of his span,
A greater that King of his people
A wise and well-loved man.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Words Of Wisdom
King Solomon was not a fool
When to the Lord he prayed,
For he knew well the Golden Rule
And this had been obeyed...
Yet now a kingdom he must guide,
Regardless, rich or poor,
As long as God stood side-by-side,
He could not want for more...
King Solomon was just a man,
He did not know all things
And yet he knew God had a plan,
God was the King of Kings...
So while God offered him a gift,
He served the kingdom best
If he could stem the tragic rift
With God and all the rest...
King Solomon desired most
God's wisdom here on Earth,
Yet not to brag and not to boast
Or seek to prove his worth...
He asked for wisdom, nothing else,
Not treasures or long life,
For these he knew were short term spells
While men on Earth survive...
King Solomon had pleased the Lord
Who gave these gifts to him
And all God's wisdom was outpoured
To fill him to the brim...
Consider wisdom and take heed
This poetry you see,
The Holy Bible's there to read...
Begin at Calvary!
poem by Denis Martindale
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Mary Had A Little Lamb
Mary had a little lamb
One holy morning
'Neath the star of Bethlehem
A brand new day was forming
Guided by the shining light
And the angel's voice
Wise men traveled through the night
To see the baby boy
'Cause Mary had a little lamb
King of kings and son of man
Mary had a little lamb of God
They gathered 'round to see the lamb
In the manger sleeping
Such a humble throne for Him
The promise God was keeping
There the shepards bowed their heads
Among the cattle lowing
The first ever Christmas gift
Was wrapped in swaddling clothes
Mary had a little lamb
King of kings and son of man
Mary had a little lamb of God
For the world a sacrifice
Mary did give birth
The way she held him in her arms
Is how He holds the earth
Mary had a little lamb
King of kings and son of man
Mary had a little lamb of God
Mary had a little lamb
King of kings and son of man
Mary had a little lamb of God
Oh, Mary had a little lamb
King of kings and son of man
Mary had a little lamb of God
song performed by by Garth Brooks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Church Without Walls
We serve a Saviour good as gold,
The greatest story ever told!
The King of Kings, the Lord of Lords,
Lifegiver of love's pure rewards...
We live by faith, we testify,
Eternal life can never die!
We fellowship both near and far,
To pray and wish upon a star.
Lord Jesus is that star, that light,
That shines for us by day and night!
Christ leads the Way to Heaven's Throne,
Reminding us we're not alone...
For in His Name, we daily walk
And of His glory we would talk,
To save the lost who need God's grace,
To see the Father in Christ's face...
Give praise with us and magnify,
Give glory to the Lord on high!
Let's preach and prophesy of Him,
Who daily fills us to the brim!
Thus we in all good works excel,
For Jesus, our Emmanuel...
Think not that we ourselves were good,
Or daily did the things we should,
For all, like sheep, have gone astray...
Till Calvary and Good Friday,
When Jesus bled and died to save
And Easter Sunday left His grave!
Then God's good Spirit helped men search
To find God's grace within the Church...
Yet now, without walls, we on Earth,
Will tell the world about His worth,
That all might know the Saviour's Name,
His light and His eternal flame,
His Book of Life, His destiny!
The King who died for you and me...
Thus of His Kingdom there's no end,
That's why we trust in Him, our friend,
Who one day will return and reign!
A thousand years of peace! Amen...
(May 2011)
poem by Denis Martindale
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L'Ancien Regime
Who has a thing to bring
For a gift to our lord the king,
Our king all kings above?
A young girl brought him love;
And he dowered her with shame,
With a sort of infamous fame,
And then with lonely years
Of penance and bitter tears --
Love is scarcely the thing
To bring as a gift for our king.
Who has a thing to bring
For a gift to our lord the king?
A statesman brought him planned
Justice for all the land;
And he in recompense got
Fierce struggle with brigue and plot,
Then a fall from lofty place
Into exile and disgrace --
Justice is never the thing
To bring as a gift for our king.
Who has a thing to bring
For a gift to our lord the king?
A writer brought him truth;
And first he imprisoned the youth,
And then he bestowed a free pyre
That the works might have plenty of fire,
And also to cure the pain
Of the headache called thought in the brain --
Truth is a very bad thing
To bring as a gift for our king.
Who has a thing to bring
For a gift to our lord the king?
The people brought their sure
Loyalty fervid and pure;
And he gave them bountiful spoil
Of taxes and hunger and toil,
Ignorance, brutish plight,
And wholesale slaughter in fight --
Loyalty's quite the worst thing
To bring as a gift for our king.
Who has a thing to bring
For a gift to our lord the king?
A courtier brought to his feet
Servility graceful and sweet,
With an ever ready smile
And an ever supple guile;
And he got in reward the place
Of the statesman in disgrace --
Servility's always a thing
To bring as a gift for our king.
Who has a thing to bring
For a gift to our lord the king?
A soldier brought him war,
La gloire, la victoire,
Ravage and carnage and groans,
For the pious Te Deum tones;
And he got in return for himself
Rank and honors and pelf --
War is a very fine thing
To bring as a gift for our king.
Who has a thing to bring
For a gift to our lord the king?
A harlot brought him her flesh,
Her lusts, and the manifold mesh
Of her wiles intervolved with caprice;
And he gave her his realm to fleece,
To corrupt, to ruin, and gave
Himself for her toy and her slave
Harlotry's just the thing
To bring as a gift for our king.
Who has a thing to bring
For a gift to our lord the king,
Our king who fears to die?
A priest brought him a lie,
The blackness of hell uprolled
In heaven's shining gold;
And he got as guerdon for that
A see and a cardinal's hat --
A lie is an excellent thing
To bring as a gift for our king.
Has any one yet a thing
For a gift to our lord the king?
The country gave him a tomb,
A magnificent sleeping-room;
And for this it obtained some rest,
Clear riddance of many a pest,
And a hope which it much enjoyed
That the throne would continue void --
A tomb is the very best thing
For a gift to our lord the king.
poem by James Thomson
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A Knight Of The Realm
When he was young, he learnt to fight, yet not to prove his power.
He was a hero not through might, but that he would not cower.
He chose his battles not for fame, but for good reasons why,
For what good was a foolish aim if he should lose and die?
When he was young, he learnt to pray for courage and resolve.
He studied Scripture every day in order to evolve.
A man is more than flesh and bones and more than muscles, too.
More known for what his heart condones and if his word is true.
When he was young, his parents taught respect and courtesy,
So that temptations never caught the man he chose to be...
Thus years passed by and wisdom smiled and gave his spirit peace.
By faith he served, as if God's child, his good works to increase.
When he was young, Christ used him most, a champion of the Lord.
And while he travelled coast-to-coast, his fame was not ignored.
He counselled lost souls to repent, he shared God's gentle grace,
Because Christ was his one true friend, the Judge that all must face.
When he was young, he had no wife, no heirs to call his own,
Instead, he offered Christ his life, as knights serve kings alone...
The Holy Grail was like his muse, yet faith more wisdom brings...
No better king should a knight choose than Christ the King of Kings!
Denis Martindale, copyright, January 2011.
poem by Denis Martindale
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The Three Kings
WHEN the star in the East was lit to shine
The three kings journeyed to Palestine;
They came from the uttermost parts of earth
With long trains laden with gifts of worth.
The first king rode on a camel's back,
He came from the land where the kings are black,
Bringing treasures desired of kings,
Rubies and ivory and precious things.
An elephant carried the second king,
He came from the land of the sun-rising,
And gems and gold and spices he bare
With broidered raiment for kings to wear.
The third king came without steed or train
From the misty land where the white kings reign.
He bore no gifts save the myrrh in his hand,
For he came on foot from a far-off land.
Now when they had travelled a-many days
Through tangled forests and desert ways,
By angry seas and by paths thorn-set
On Christmas Vigil the three kings met.
And over their meeting a shrouded sky
Made dark the star they had travelled by.
Then the first king spake and he frowned and said:
'By some ill spell have our feet been led,
'Now I see in the darkness the fools we are
To follow the light of a lying star.
'Let us fool no more, but like kings and men
Each get him home to his land again!'
Then the second king with the weary face,
Gold-tinct as the sun of his reigning place,
Lifted sad eyes to the clouds and said,
'It was but a dream and the dream is sped.
'We dreamed of a star that rose new and fair,
But it sets in the night of the old despair.
'Yet night is faithful though stars betray,
It will lead to our kingdoms far away.'
Then spake the king who had fared alone
From the far-off kingdom, the white-hung throne:
'O brothers, brothers, so very far
Ye have followed the light of the radiant star,
'And because for a while ye see it not
Shall its faithful shining be all forgot?
'On the spirit's pathway the light still lies
Though the star be hid from our longing eyes.
'To-morrow our star will be bright once more
The little pin-hole in heaven's floor--
'The Angels pricked it to let it bring
Our feet to the throne of the new-born King!'
And the first king heard and the second heard
And their hearts grew humble before the third.
And they laid them down beside bale and beast
and their sleeping eyes saw light in the East.
For the Angels fanned them with starry wings
And the waft of visions of unseen things.
And the next gold day waned trembling and white
And the star was born of the waxing night.
And the three kings came where the Great King lay,
A little baby among the hay,
The ox and the ass were standing near
And Mary Mother beside her Dear.
Then low in the litter the kings bowed down,
They gave Him gold for a kingly crown,
And frankincense for a great God's breath
and Myrrh to sweeten the day of death.
The Maiden Mother she stood and smiled
And she took from the manger her little child.
On the dark king's head she laid His hand
And anger died at that dear command.
She laid His hand on the gold king's head
And despair itself was comforted.
But when the pale king knelt in the stall
She heard on the straw his tears down fall.
And she stooped where he knelt beside her feet
And laid on his bosom her baby sweet.
And the king in the holy stable-place
Felt the little lips through the tears on his face.
* * * * * * *
Christ! lay Thy hand on the angry king
Who reigns in my breast to my undoing,
And lay thy hands on the king who lays
The spell of sadness on all my days,
And give the white king my soul, Thy soul,
Of these other kings the high control.
That soul and spirit and sense may meet
In adoration before Thy feet!
Now Glory to God the Father Most High,
And the Star, the Spirit, He leads us by.
And to God's dear Son, the Babe who was born
And laid in the manger on Christmas morn!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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The Bells and Queen Victoria
1911
"Gay go up and gay go down
To ring the Bells of London Town."
When London Town's asleep in bed
You'll hear the Bells ring overhead.
In excelsis gloria!
Ringing for Victoria,
Ringing for their mighty mistress--ten years dead!
THE BELLS:
Here is more gain than Gloriana guessed--
Then Gloriana guessed or Indies bring--
Then golden Indies bring. A Queen confessed--
A Queen confessed that crowned her people King.
Her people King, and crowned a11 Kings above,
Above a11 Kings have crowned their Queen their love--
Have crowned their love their Queen, their Queen their love!
Denying her, we do ourselves deny,
Disowning her are we ourselves disowned.
Mirror was she of our fidelity,
And handmaid of our destiny enthroned;
The very marrow of Youth's dream, and still
Yoke-mate of wisest Age that worked her will!
Our fathers had declared to us her praise--
Her praise the years had proven past all speech.
And past all speech our loyal hearts always,
Always our hearts lay open, each to each--
Therefore men gave the treasure of their blood
To this one woman--for she understood!
Four o' the clock! Now all the world is still.
Oh, London Bells, to all the world declare
The Secret of the Empire--read who will!
The Glory of the People--touch who dare!
THE BELLS:
Power that has reached itself all kingly powers,
St. Margaret's: By love o'erpowered--
St. Martin's: By love o'erpowered--
St. Clement Danes: By love o'erpowered,
The greater power confers!
THE BELLS:
For we were hers, as she, as she was ours,
Bow Bells: And she was ours--
St. Paul's: And she was ours--
Westminister: And she was ours,
As we, even we, were hers!
THE BELLS
As we were hers!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Coronation Poem And Prayer
The world has crowned a thousand kings:
But destiny has kept
Her weightiest hour of kingly power
To offer England's son.
The rising bell of Progress rings;
And Truths which long have slept,
Like prophets strange, predicting change,
Before Time's chariot run.
The greatest Empire of the Earth.
Old England proudly stands.
Like arteries her Colonies
Reach out from sea to sea.
She clasps all races in her girth;
Her gaze the world commands;
And far and wide where strong ships ride,
The British Flag floats free.
Oh, never since the stars began
Their round of Cosmic law,
And souls evolved in ways unsolved,
And kingdoms reached their prime
Has Destiny held out to Man
A gift so full of awe,
As England's crown which she hands down
In this stupendous time.
This is a crucial hour, when Fate
Tries Monarchs as by fire.
All rulers must be more than just-
Men starve on bread alone.
Old England's sense of right is great;
But now let her aspire
To feel more love, and build thereof
An everlasting Throne.
The dreaming East, awake at last,
Is asking 'when' and 'why';
Wait not too long nor answer wrong,
Nor in too stern a voice.
Let England profit by her past,
And with her wise reply
Rouse hearts, within her foster kin
To hope, and to rejoice.
True wealth dwells not in things we own,
But in our use of things.
Who would command a conquered land
Must conquer first its heart.
Such might as Man has never known,
And power undreamed by kings,
And boundless strength would come at length
To one who used that art.
For now has dawned the People's day:
A day of great unrest.
Nor king nor creed can still man's need
Of time and space to grow.
All lands must shape a wider way,
For this eternal quest;
And Leisure yield a larger field
Where work-worn feet may go.
The Universe is all a-thrill
With changes imminent.
The World in faith, with bated breath,
Holds free the Leader's place.
And wise is he whose heart and will
At one with Time's intent,
Shall open wide doors long denied
To mothers of the race.
On this round globe, oh, when and where
Were fitter time and scene
For Woman's soul to reach its goal
Than now in England's realm.
Was not the crown its King will wear
Made glorious by its Queen?
And who steered straight its ship of State?
Victoria at the Helm!
Kings have been kings by accident,
By favour and by force,
But right of birth and moral worth,
And Empires rich and broad
For England's King to-day are blent
Like rivers on one course.
But, ah! the light falls searching white
Down from the Throne of God.
Lord of the Earth and heavenly spheres,
Creator of all things,
Thou who hast wrought great worlds from naught,
Give strength to England's son.
Give courage to dispel those fears
That come to even kings,
And for his creed give Love's full mead;
Amen. Thy Will be done.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Freed To Serve
Today I serve the King of kings, proclaiming the freedom He brings,
Freedom from the sin in your life, in a world where temptation is rife;
God sends The Spirit to dwell within, to guide us in this world of sin,
And through His Spirit, living inside, in Christ our Lord we can abide.
Through God’s work of Grace, I was bought from sin’s marketplace,
Paying for me redemption’s price, in full, through His Own Sacrifice;
Providing me New Life in Christ, and granted from God, Eternal Life,
God giving me what I don’t deserve, The Lord now, I gratefully serve.
Reasonable service, for you and me, for all that God did on Calvary,
When He allowed His Only Son to die, in the place of both you and I;
Now giving us Good News to herald, to this lost and darkened world,
Taking to each and every nation, The Good News of God’s Salvation.
Christ finished the redemptive part; God wants from us a willing heart,
To become The Lord’s living sacrifice; for our part, that is a tiny price;
Today wanting us to leave old ways, to live our lives for God’s Praise,
To leave old, sinful ways behind, as Christ renews our heart and mind.
No longer are we to be conformed, to this world, but, be transformed,
Into the very likeness of God’s Son, to be God’s witness to everyone,
Called to service, to be His Light, in a world where wrong seems right,
Faithfully serving the King of kings, while in our hearts, freedom rings.
(Copyright ©03/2010)
Freedom To Serve
Become God’s servant to be free, when you go through Calvary,
The only place on earth indeed, when as a servant you are freed;
Freed through the Blood of Christ, from the bondage of this life,
A Freedom only known to man, through God’s Redemptive Plan.
God bought us out of slavery, with precious Blood from Calvary,
Purchased from the market of sin; granting freedom deep within,
Freedom by us that wasn’t sought, which the Lord for us bought,
Offering His Son, our Lord Jesus, as payment made for all of us.
When we’re freed, we’re then sent, by our Lord, as God’s servant,
Here in service to the Son of God, on this earth that we now trod,
No longer slaves in bondage to sin, we delight in service for Him,
Now as we serve the King of kings, our new freedom in Him rings.
We’re now free to serve our Lord, as Christ’s Body, in one accord,
Now serving with the mind of Christ, for God gave us all New Life,
Eternal Life, which we don’t deserve, which is why we gladly serve,
By God’s Grace, with freedom, as God’s servants in His Kingdom.
All because God paid that price, when His Son became a sacrifice,
Christ, Who had no reason to die, served as a Lamb, for you and I,
To grant us real freedom my friend, that from The Lord has no end,
As we come to The Lord Jesus, to serve eternally in God’s Service.
(Copyright ©08/2010)
What Child Is This (While My Guitar)
=====================
What Child Is This?
=====================
What child is this, who, laid to rest,
On Mary's lap is sleeping?
Whom angels greet with anthems sweet,
While shepherds watch are keeping?
This, this is Christ the King,
Whom shepherds guard and angels sing:
Haste, haste to bring him laud,
The babe, the son of Mary.
Why lies he in such mean estate
Where ox and ass are feeding?
Good Christian, fear: for sinners here
The silent Word is pleading.
So bring him incense, gold, and myrrh,
Come, peasant, king, to own him.
the King of kings salvation brings,
Let loving hearts enthrone him.
song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Child Is This
What child is this who laid to rest
On marys lap is sleeping
Whom angels greet with anthems sweet
While shepherds watch are keeping
Chorus:
This, this is christ the king
Whom shepherds guard and angels sing
Haste, haste to bring him laud
The babe, the son of mary
Why lies he in such mean estate
Where ox and cattle are feeding
Good christian fear for sinners here
The silent world is pleading
Repeat chorus:
So bring him incense gold and myrrh
Come peasant king to own him
The king of kings salvation brings
Let loving hearts enthrone him
Repeat chorus:
song performed by by Garth Brooks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Old Issue
October 9, 1899 -- Outbreak of Boer War
Here is nothing new nor aught unproven," say the Trumpets,
"Many feet have worn it and the road is old indeed.
"It is the King--the King we schooled aforetime! "
(Trumpets in the marshes-in the eyot at Runnymede!)
"Here is neither haste, nor hate, nor anger," peal the Trumpets,
"Pardon for his penitence or pity for his fall.
"It is the King!"--inexorable Trumpets--
(Trumpets round the scaffold af the dawning by Whitehall!)
. . . . . . .
"He hath veiled the Crown And hid the Scepter," warn (he Trum pets,
"He hath changed the fashion of the lies that cloak his will.
"Hard die the Kings--ah hard--dooms hard!" declare the Trumpets,
Trumpets at the gang-plank where the brawling troop-decks fill!
Ancient and Unteachable, abide--abide the Trumpets!
Once again the Trumpets, for the shuddering ground-swell brings
Clamour over ocean of the harsh, pursuing Trumpets--
Trumpets of the Vanguard that have sworn no truce with Kings!
All we have of freedom, all we use or know--
This our fathers bought for us long and long ago.
Ancient Right unnoticed as the breath we draw--
Leave to live by no man's leave, underneath the Law.
Lance and torch and tumult, steel and grey-goose wing
Wrenched it, inch and ell and all, slowly from the king.
Till our fathers 'stablished,, after bloody years,
How our King is one with us, first among his peers.
So they bought us freedom-not at little cost--
Wherefore must we watch the King, lest our gain be lost.
Over all things certain, this is sure indeed,
Suffer not the old King: for we know the breed.
Give no ear to bondsmen bidding us endure.
Whining "He is weak and far"; crying "Time will cure."
(Time himself is witness, till the battle joins,
Deeper strikes the rottenness in the people's loins.)
Give no heed to bondsmen masking war with peace.
Suffer not the old King here or overseas.
They that beg us barter--wait his yielding mood--
Pledge the years we hold in trust-pawn our brother's blood--
Howso' great their clamour, whatsoe'er their claim,
Suffer not the old King under any name!
Here is naught unproven--here is naught to learn.
It is written what shall fall if the King return.
He shall mark our goings, question whence we came,
Set his guards about us, as in Freedom's name.
He shall take a tribute, toll of all our ware;
He shall change our gold for arms--arms we may not bear.
He shall break his Judges if they cross his word;
He shall rule above the Law calling on the Lord.
He shall peep and mutter; and the night shall bring
Watchers 'neath our window, lest we mock the King --
Hate and all division; hosts of hurrying spies;
Money poured in secret, carrion breeding flies.
Strangers of his counsel, hirelings of his pay,
These shall deal our Justice: sell-deny-delay.
We shall drink dishonour, we shall eat abuse
For the Land we look to--for the Tongue we use.
We shall take our station, dirt beneath his feet,
While his hired captains jeer us in the street.
Cruel in the shadow, crafty in the sun,
Far beyond his borders shall his teachings run.
Sloven, sullen, savage, secret, uncontrolled,
Laying on a new land evil of the old--
Long-forgotten bondage, dwarfing heart and brain--
All our fathers died to loose he shall bind again.
Here is nought at venture, random nor untrue
Swings the wheel full-circle, brims the cup anew.
Here is naught unproven, here is nothing hid:
Step for step and word for word--so the old Kings did!
Step by step, and word by word: who is ruled may read.
Suffer not the old Kings: for we know the breed--
All the right they promise--all the wrong they bring.
Stewards of the Judgment, suffer not this King!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Deliverance
Ride swift across the plain
Dont you turn back, keep heed in your flame
Kings with no mercy, this planet at war
Torn from enchantment, this land forevermore
Born from obsession, you cried death for light
You saw things before and after you died
Back from beyond to rule again
But this life denies you its fight to the end
Back from the dawn
Deliver us right from wrong
Kings forge the way
For your last day
You search the eyes of those
Who fear the law
Dark and light we all must keep the balance strong
One day a king will rise with the sun
The moon, and the stars
And you are he and you must die, to be
Born again, come again, once more be again the king
Back from the dawn
Deliver us right from wrong
Kings forge the way
For your last day
song performed by by Queensryche
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Coronation
At the king's gate the subtle noon
Wove filmy yellow nets of sun;
Into the drowsy snare too soon
The guards fell one by one.
Through the king's gate, unquestioned then,
A beggar went and laughed, 'This brings
Me chance, at last, to see if men
Fare better being kings.'
The king sat bowed beneath his crown,
Propping his face with listless hand;
Watching the hour-glass sifting down
Too slow its shining sand.
'Poor man, what wouldst thou have of me?'
The beggar turned, and pitying,
Replied, like one in dream, 'Of thee,
Nothing. I want the king.'
Uprose the king, and from his head
Shook off the crown, and threw it by.
'O man, thou must have known,' said he,
'A greater king than I.'
Through all the gates, unquestioned then,
Went king and beggar hand in hand.
Whispered the king, 'Shall I know when
Before
his
throne I stand?'
The beggar laughed. Free winds in haste
Were wiping from the king's hot brow
The crimson lines the crown had traced.
'This is his presence now.'
At the king's gate, the crafty noon
Unwove its yellow nets of sun;
Out of their sleep in terror soon
The guards waked one by one.
'Ho here! Ho There! Has no man seen
The king?' The cry ran to and fro;
Beggar and king, they laughed, I ween,
The laugh that free men know.
On the king's gate the moss grew gray;
The king came not. They called him dead;
And made his eldest son one day
Slave in his father's stead.
poem by Helen Hunt Jackson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The whole world is in revolt. Soon there will be only five Kings left--the King of England, the King of Spades, The King of Clubs, the King of Hearts, and the King of Diamonds.
quote by King Farouk of Egypt (1948)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The whole world is in revolt. Soon there will be only five Kings left--the King of England, the King of Spades, The King of Clubs, the King of Hearts, and the King of Diamonds.
quote by King Farouk of Egypt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Emperor of Germany is the king of kings, the King of Spain king of men, the King of France king of asses, the King of England king of devils.
Where to complain
Where to go for complaint?
When king becomes blind and turn saint?
When kingdom is handed over to wolves
Whole mystery surrounds and treachery involves
Is it wise to turn the kingdom into holy land?
Leaving the subjects into the unholy hands?
Allow anarchy and misery to prevail
All rights and freedom may also to curtail
These were the old divine rights of the kings
King was master and we the animals in rings
No voice to be heard with clipping of wings
Not to even murmur and allowed to sing
Kings used to abdicate power in favour
Such a mad race shrouded in glamour
Such was state and no worry for subject
Power or authority only main object
Kings have vanished but leaders are born
Only power game and principles torn
Who knows which side they may turn?
Monarchy is over or likely to return
People still favour old king’s system
Voice was still heard…………………
Thousands of leaders have come into being
Promises forgotten and no welfare to bring
God may save country from clutch
King was accessible even within reach
Leaders have worries and no time to spare
There is no use quality to compare
We have no choice but to live with evil
One may be less other may be more devil
Life is short and has to be compromised
When words are reneged initially promised
There is no use for blood to get boiled
Only strong resolves to get attempts foiled
Still nothing is slipped away and out of hand
Rule should prevail with respect to holy land
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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