Generic

An oldie but a goodie....thought I would resurrect it a bit.....changed a word or two 
The golden crown of reverence 
 
 
Upon an aged head sits, 
Casts an empty light of glamour 
Beating the ‘strange’ to bits. 
Your words amaze the plebs’ delight 
And weaklings sing your praise, 
Your monarch pen can cast them stars 
To keep them full for days. 
Your words lack tact but pass as law 
And thoughts are hymns and creed, 
Within your sight they genuflect 
And your commandments heed. 
Run the shadows, fleeing bellows 
That strange a picture paint, 
Not to follow royal decrees 
To keep it ever quaint. 
Spout your meters, lifeless verses 
In lines of two or four, 
And shining gems not your color 
Please gladly do ignore.

A Game of Words