The man in the leather chair

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
written for my father who passed away recently

Submitted: January 13, 2012

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Submitted: January 13, 2012

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The man in the leather Chair ....Present holds such unbalance, destruction, decay, a sickening beam, on a worthless face does lay.

Such needed sorrow, seem forgotten, perhaps oblivious to the eye, though acknowledgements are shared to the brightest glow in the sky.

Her majesty the raven, creates and now lays to burn, once foolishly worshiped and given what none could earn.

We could predict her actions and hence did foretell, those who had listened sat comfy, in ivory chiming the masters bell.

They claimed to rule in our word, sat in their red marked thrones, we forgot to rule in his, demeaning his gentle wise bones.

The result had the cherished so wrongly taken, the granted was took, and now, affliction awaits to awaken.

Her wings so blight, increasingly now, she refused to fly never could and never now, can see what meet the oncoming eye.

Now is done, the place so eagerly bare, to exist in the barons name to vanquish our care.

A savage of pain, fell upon the forgotten fortress of the man, who could predict the depraved rogues plan.

The herd now enduringly, disjoin, all is dealt. now leaves the battle, one none felt.

Reality, a beautiful spirit, behind the iron wall, this is not ours, though we must take, the old we cannot call.

The elders will fight, they possess every dare, in his name, the finest of all, the man in the leather chair.


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