Woes
Woe betide the foolish king
With greedy foxes for a kin,
Walls to fall, like slaughtered dolls
And none to mourn or keen.
Woe to him without no dreams,
Tapered sights to slender pins,
Day to sleep and night to cleave
And die the death of leaves.
Woe to him with self for friend,
Who depend on self for strength,
Days of need shall pay indeed
For none to help or heed..
Woe to him with pride as hills,
Looking down on human deals,
Soon to fall like slaughtered dolls
On massive offal heaps...
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
