The King

"The King"

Once as strong as an ox,
In his heart alone,
The reputation he built,
Was of a King on his throne,
Focused and determined,
He gained respect from his peers,
Little did they know, he cried alone,
Bottling up all of his fears.

His story starts torn,
LIke the rips in his jeans,
Although Heaven was his home,
Hell always found the time to appear.

Constantly fighting through the depths,
Proving pipe-dreams are real,
Scars of a father's son,
Inflicted by the voice he held dear,
But Mother always said,
"Dreams are as real as the sun,
And son, with what you've done in life,
Your dreams have already begun."

So why do I sit here on this porch,
With questions cluttering my mind?
And why have I sadly let my fears,
For the first time, take over my life?

The King has left his soldiers behind,
Where does he turn to for advice?
He stares down at the crown in his hands,
Trying not to cry as he questions why.

(c)2006 Joe Ruggiero

Reviews

[PENS FOR PEACE /TJ CALI..]

Wel done, very artistic poem! We all have fears and demons in our closet of life!
Just some have the power to rise above and over come them all.
That's what makes htem a true and noble king!
Keep writing such great pieces! Good luck to you always!
TIM