You are the ruler of this realm of flesh
Dylan Thomas
1914 to 1953
You are the ruler of this realm of flesh,
And this hill of bone and hair
Moves to the Mahomet of your hand.
But all this land gives off a charnel stench,
The wind smacks of the poor
Dumb dead the crannies house and hide.
You rule the thudding heart that bites the side;
The heart steps to death’s finger,
The brain acts to the legal dead.
Why should I think on death when you are ruler?
You are my flesh’s ruler whom I treason,
Housing death in your kingdom,
Paying heed to the thirsty voice.
Condemn me to an everlasting facing
Of the dead eyes of children
And their rivers of blood turned to ice.
Dylan Thomas's You are the ruler of this realm of flesh
I am busy working to bring Dylan Thomas's "You are the ruler of this realm of flesh" to life through some unique musical arrangements and will have a full analysis of the poem here for you later.
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