King Damastocles

King Damastocles sonnet poems

Photo by Xubaet

My afflicting Evil precedes our God
himself; at dawn was born in turbulent
oceans, sunken ravines that few had trod,
ripe with fruits of ever-present torment.
People rejoiced at my each rising word,
trees uproot with the gesture of my hand.
Though I am shepherd to my joyous herd,
no more joy have I in rule, nor command.
I feel my hidden beat hissing faintly.
My palace is but a prison of dread;
so unrelentlessly, unceasingly
do ancient curses echo from the dead.

Now he treads in swamps of malevolence,
forever trapped in blind obedience.

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 3.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

1 Comment on "King Damastocles"

Notify of
avatar
Sort by:   newest | oldest
Editorial Board
Member

@tdej_blazic, your rhyme and format is that of a sonnet. Some syllables not stressed on the right places would not distract from the whole idea of the poem. This is a worthy effort. We enjoyed your poem.

wpDiscuz

The Poet And The King

The Poet And The King short poem

There once was a King, who lived in a castle, in a Kingdom of his own. He had everything, royalty could bring, except; he was alone. Since love wasn’t there, his castle was bare, just a building made out of

King Kendrick

King Kendrick short poem

The Butterfly has awoken And rightfully emerged from his cocoon What makes it so beautiful is Not the wings or image Of itself But the beauty of its flawlessness Mindset in this breath Taking shattering world It already being so

King Cole

King Cole short poem

Through out time he dreamed of becoming a king Who would have all of the finer Things in this realm as he progressed And developed he would Finally close his palm to Realize his dreams And visions had finally evolved

The Boise King Size Hotel Room Rag

The Boise King Size Hotel Room Rag short poem

the pillows sleep on me like cats every night this room contains a brand new constellation pinpricks of technology winking as if blocked by orbiting children regular visitors and on the wall a creamy veil where the curtains don’t reach

The Little Muffin King

The Little Muffin King short poem

Hi there,I’m your “Little Bit”of a muffin king.To keep my”Little Bit”of a fur coat clean, I tie a “Little Bit”of an apron around my waist. For my grandma I’m creating a surprise!Grandma loves bran muffins. Bran muffins are grandma’s favorite.”King