The King Of Rimes.

The King Of Rimes

The warm sun has shone
On the condensed gloomy dust
That covered the throne
Of the literary lust

People start to speak
Of a king absent for long
Maybe dead, or weak
And throning him was wrong

Away I have been
With no words at all, nor voice
Not heard and not seen
That was my golden choice

Though I slept, yet I kept
My glittering crown at head
Many have cried and wept
To behold me down and dead

I am back with rage
And each and every bone
In me is a page
To claim back my throne

I speak endless rhymes
Of structures new and old
I write beyond times
With words so swift and bold

Many hearts I touch
Without seing faces
Never cared that much
Never clung to places

Many thoughts, many souls
I pour unto their cores
New flames and new goals
New sand upon their shores

Back yet I'm leaving
I'm vanishing once again
My kins are grieving
We have an aching pain

My country's dying
Corrupted in every way
Our wells are drying
There is nothing left to say

© Ziad Dib Jreige