The Ne'er King

What is Man without purpose? -- To my Father

License: Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported. Author: Hgrobe. The original image has been modified. The original can be seen at http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/5/55/Senufo-mask_hg.jpg

 

 

 

The Ne’er King

 

        Not just about Kings...

 

Ne'er from legends of past sorrows,

Find we deeds that song may borrow

No righted wrongs of yesterday

Or how the Ne'er King loved or slayed

 

Most meager, He, among the meek

And when He died no tear wet cheek

No dauntless gaze came from His eyes

Ne'er hint of danger shook His thighs

 

His name not set in memory

Not history, nor family!

Ne'er were His deeds set down in books

And from His rage no monster shook

 

Ne'er fought He fiend in fetid fen

Or poured He passion from His pen

Ne'er He for honor or for fame

Lifted sword, His heart in flame

 

He had sweet breath and winning looks

But for hard works no time He took

His soul held naught but poverty

Ne'er in His name was majesty

 

Oh think, what purpose His life filled?

No victory sought, no dragon killed

Had He no course or any plan?

Then He ne'er King, ne'er He a man.

 

 

©2009, Richard Puetter

All rights reserved

Author's Note

I am especially indebted to my friends Legion and Mark for pointing out the weakness in the last stanza of prior versions of this poem. Initially I disagreed with your assessment, but after due consideration I could only admit that you both were right. The new ending is very much stronger and I have both of you to thank for pushing me in this direction. Thanks, my friends!

Additional thanks go to Meredith Greene for helping me tone down the number of occurances of "ne'er" in the piece. Ne'er it be said I don't listen to my critics and follow their suggestions especially when they are so on the mark. Thanks, Meredith.

Reviews

[Legion]

I like this piece, but I think the last stanza really needs some work. Doesn't seem to really fit with the rest of the piece. Also, fix the last line of the second stanza. Should be "his" not "this". Reminds me a bit of "Ozymandius" by Percy Byce Shelley.

As for what is man without purpose? Ne'er much more than a monkey without meaning.

[Marie Anzalone]

"Far or forgot to me is near;
Shadow and sunlight are the same;
The vanished gods to me appear;
And one to me are shame and fame.

They reckon ill who leave me out;
When me they fly, I am the wings;
I am the doubter and the doubt,
And I the hymn the Brahmin sings."
-Ralph Waldo Emerson, Brahma

How many go through life ensconsed in security, buying insurance against unsightly thoughts and treading heavily only from the couch to the bed? It's not just men, it;s women, too... and more the pity, when someone in their tries to shine, these people can't let them. They hold those who would be something tightly in their fists like misers hoarding their gold.

I like the way you constructed this, and the message is timely and powerful. Adding this to my favorites, Rick... thanks for the request to read!

[Tate Morgan]

Damned Beautiful .A work of art painted with words You did yourself proud as this is a van gough

[deeps]

I really enjoyed this write here, I thought it was very well written.
Like this alot, and flowed so lovely!

[THE LOST ROSE]

I am not sure what the original ending was but I look at this ending as the strongest eye popping part of this poem and I was not disappointed. This piece was wrap up great. The suggestions work and I am glad you followed them. You have a wonderful piece of poetry here. Great work but of course I am not suprise.

[Greg Close]

Really reads through well - very compact and yet not at the expense of good solid words for us logophiles. This one has a particularly good meter/rhythm, too. It also raises a great philosophical question... what impact, the deeds of a person's life? In a finite world, what does a tiny spark count in a large fire, even if a brilliant spark? In an infinite world, what matters the brief spark in an eternal flame? Maybe I'm still fevering... stupid H1N1! It reminds me a little of a Neil Peart lyric from the song Losing It... something like "better to have watched it die than never to have known it." The "it" in this case referring to talent or the fulfillment of dreams.

[cest la vie]

I am simply speechless.. (rare for me indeed)
This is an absolutely flawless poem. There is so much within this piece that just begs to be pontificated upon. I will not rave on, but conclude by saying this piece touched the core of me. Wonderful!!

This is one I will save and re-read..Thank you.

[papaed]

So many of us go through life without risk, without making a mark. You certainly are making your mark and with intellect, class, quality, and a firm grasp of the tools of this trade. I also love it that you share, that you don't keep these marvelous, thought-provoking gems to yourself and hold dreams of sharing only in book form. Apparently it made a difference in the completion of this one.
Peace,
papaed

[Charles D. Moorer]

This poem is evocative on multiple levels. One: The African mask functions as a kind of objective correlative to the poem. One of the chief criticisms of African culture is that it did not have a written history and many of the great African kings' deeds and exploits went unrecorded, even though they had griots who could recite the history of their king and their tribe with pinpoint accuracy, down to the hour.

In the end, "His name not set in memory
Not history, nor family!
Ne'er were His deeds set down in books
And from His rage no monster shook."

Two: We are what we do and if we do nothng we are nothing though we live and breathe. To be we must do, if not then what purpose, why breath. Nicely done, good use of inversions.

[JC]

Another great write...

Just a comment on the author's note.... It is refreshing to see that not only that we can take advice from our fellow writers, it can be done in such a professional manner. Kudos to all!

JC

[Belator Books]

"Find we deeds that song may borrow" was a singularly lyrical line. It give a thrill and an eyeful sparkle. I adore modern poems written (often unknowingly) as tributes to aulde prose.

The word Ne'er is repeated so much the lines begins to resemble those in The Suddenly Book, in Durrell's 'Birds, Beasts and Relatives', which inserts a humorous tone which takes away from the philosophical soul of the poem posted here.