Ivan Sokac
Belgrade (Serbia)


No reward, no throne.
Neither the place of honor
Neither made out of the gold, nor made out of thorns.
I do not need a crown...

Defiant to admire me but pitiful,
to follow me with fear.
To devour me lives full of hunger
Souls of unfortunate vagabonds. All different ones

There are a lot of half-empty barrels.
They stink like mold
And the wine turns darker,
like blood on a piece of cotton.

And when leaking starts in the water spout
The drops are racing one another.
And their feet give them away, badly.
Numb or dead below the waist.
Wednesday, July 11, 2018
Topic(s) of this poem: life
Unwritten Soul 20 August 2018
One of the gifts in life is living in peace where people may miss it either by what we were desire or what we need, and being fooled because of this is what make this game keep going, we need no crown, we need our rights.
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Kumarmani Mahakul 11 July 2018
No reward, nor throne. Neither the place of honor... Neither of gold, nor of thorns. I do not need a crown.......so touching. To accept a crown is not easy. The beginning of the poem is fantastic with nice theme. Beautiful poem
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