Contributor: Steve Ridpath

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There was a king –
a king gazing into the liquid mirror,
wondering who is dear
and how he came to be.

His castle stood far away
from the place he knelt:
the lake of the Celts,
as a symbol of his chains.

The kingdom of his reign –
an expansive domain
meant to salve his pain;
like his heart, a land of waste.

His Queen long since gone
and with her went his soul;
despair only he would know
ruled as two reduced to one.

And so he searched the reflection
for his youth and her grace
but found neither in his face;
tears for the lack of recollection.

There was a king –
a king of strength and joy
just a few years past a boy.
He loved her more than anything.


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I am CPA by trade and an emerging poet who had a muse inside of him for many years, but didn't recognize it. Have published a book entitled "A Walk Through Life: Poems of Virtue"

Contributor: Steve Ridpath

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It’s been said that the angels only visit virtuous youth;
those who wedded wisdom and those who love truth
would be taken from us early and not grow gray and old;
They say the saints are needed by Heaven’s gates of gold.

But pondering the common hopeful assurance of this creed;
there may be something predominant to this assumed need.
The departure can be sudden - or cruel, twisted and protracted -
though loss to those left, there may be purpose in the enacted.

A seed must be buried to later manifest its mighty branches;
The thornbird’s brief appearance does its final song enhance.
the precipitous, vaporizing death - that ruthless thief who steals
and leaves us in ashes - strips us of vanity and bids us to heal.


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I am CPA by trade and an emerging poet who had a muse inside of him for many years, but didn't recognize it. Have published a book entitled "A Walk Through Life: Poems of Virtue"