Poem | |
The purple Royal banners wave above his armor's steel;
the chieftain carries his Mongolian, relentless wit,
young Genghis Khan, the Temujin, applies his sovereign zeal,
to merge the lands beneath his will, the warlords to befit.
Consorted by young Börte of the Onggirat kin tribe,
the martial Temujin receives high honors by the clans;
a skillful warrior invades the lands while his young bride,
awaits; for no one else predestined is to be her man.
The chieftain slaughters hence his passage through the western soils
invincible his tactics are, and triumphs ascertain,
advance his rule, expand his territorial rights and spoils,
while Börte, granting loyalty, in virtue she ordains.
How valued is the flight of eagles that conduct above,
depict trajectories, and soar to vanish where the Gods
embrace the sadness of unanswered prayers and bridal love,
the Royal maid in loneliness, defends against all odds?
So priceless have become their plumes upon the Mongol plains,
where the persistent Northern steppe cold winds enfold the ghosts
and Princess Börte counts her solitude, stands tall and reigns,
believing that her Temujin bestows his kind riposte!
" Support him Goddess of the moon when grooming Charon thuds
and sends the clanging of the steel, commanding thus, the souls,
to travel the descending route of coursing loveless blood,
and through the gusting of the winds, transports their saddened calls. "
© 01-20-2014, G. Venetopoulos, All Rights Reserved
(Fourteener, Iambic heptameter)
Poem | |
Waking to the call to prayer near a Turkish mosque
Blowing “bonjour” to passersby in chic, classy France
Nibbling cheese on a snow-capped mountaintop in Switzerland
Printing footsteps across the linen snow in Siberia
Singing with the birds on the Mongolian grasslands
Gathering simple smiles along a street in Indonesia
Strutting past all the windows down Fifth Avenue
Dancing with the pouring rain in the Amazon
Inhaling the love swirling in the Darling Harbour breeze
Planting kisses on the sparkling gems of Angola
Tasting the spice-laced air in a crowded market of Morocco
Leading a weary camel through the desert of Arabia
Then near the end of the day I
Wade across the Red Sea to catch
The sunset on the golden Egyptian sand and
Lay back to count the stars
With my head against a date palm tree
Somewhere in the silent darkness of Afghanistan.
Poem | |
Hour ago raised the morning sun
The eastern army outnumbers the hussars fifteen to one
The battle has began
Hussar horses with thousand thundering hooves begun their run
Eastern army cannons and muskets will discharge
As the hussars push forward in awe inspiring charge
Before the muskets and cannons can recharge
The front of the hussar left wing is at large
The lances pierce through musketeers like a storm
The hussar charge starts spread far apart then single column like a spear it will form
Into one group of two different colors two groups previously separated will transform
The hussar charge is deep in the musketeers’ ranks the each commander his king will inform
The sea of lances comes down like avalanche or volcanic rain
The furry of battle is insane
Impaled warriors sometimes six all at once cry in pain
How could things look so bad for musketeers at those odds is hard to explain
It is the horses of hussars that caused musketeer breakdown
The horses that were mixes of Mongolian blood with that of the once bread by the crown
Mesmerizing is the speed with which hussars their enemy have cut down
And despite of larger enemy force it is the musketeers that in the blood would drown
It is those magnificent horses that hussars have bred
It is the speed that enemy would come to dread
Some horses were chestnut almost red
Some were colored like a puzzle white patches yet black head
Some white and some black like the night
Like hybrid horses hybrid number defines sun’s morning light
Normal horizon is destiny of Gods that mage would incite
So with hybrid number as horizons just imagine power of its sun’s light
But that power is mind not the soul
And it is black stallion with visage as deep as the soul
Dark means deep and stallion is black as coal
He represents the deepest essence of free unbound soul
Poem | |
Kokoda Ten Shilling note.........................
Johnno had been out a tracking Japanese , in Kokoda's , misty green...
It was 1942, smell of death, slaughter so obscene.......
Suddenly two Japanese appeared, Don fired and death was there.......
Just pointed the old Tommy gun, two bursts two bodies, yair.....(aussie yeah)
Don checked the Officer first and found a ten bob note....
Invasion money for Australia , in case you didn't know it?.......
Bertie had wounded another Japanese, a big Mongolian type....
He was kneeling saying the Lords prayer, Bertie smashed his skull to tripe....
Brains splattered up Dons back as he found the ten bob note....
And Bertie muttered 'we're here to kill Jap's ' checking the pockets of his coat....
.45 was old Tommy gun, one or two in a Japanese brisket....
And Death appeared as cruel and hard as the Aussie Army biscuit....
After that Don went alone to find the enemy line....
Treading carefully sniffing the breeze, for the hay smell, Jap divine.....
Drover Dick wanted a prisoner, to talk of old Tojo...(Colonel Dick Marson)
But they mostly died in a bayonet fight or a bullet made em slow.....
You heard the little rattle as the Japanese loaded a bullet....
And after 5 shots from his Arisaka , fixed bayonet you just knew it....
Bayonet parry or a butt slap, spike him quick as you will....
To spill your blood hes coming, stop the bugger with a 45 cal. pill.....
Don Johnson .written Anzac day 2010...Anzac Day when we remember our war dead...
as Don Johnson of the 2/25th Battalion said of Kokoda the butcher shop.
Poem | |
Foraging through time's annals
Peering through the faded panels
Catching a glint through corroded channels
Seeking the sallowing bridges to re-enamel
Shuffling along desert lanes beaten down by Assyrian
Walking subsumed Royal Persian road, linking cultural
Striding through exhumed Alexandrian cities'
Strolling pebbled Roman boulevards accentuated by
Riding the Mongolian steppes listening to the murderous
Traipsing through gold-crowned Ottoman mosques
sprouting Christian veins
Lumbering penitently along Via Dolorosa grasping
sacrificial blood stains
Poem | |
Three young kids sit on the double swing
In nearby woods nightingale will sing
As kids swing on the swing
They talk about everything
They talk about adventures in distant places
Light of joy lights up on their faces
To the south tropical beaches
To the north cold breezes
The animals like polar bear in frozen tundra
Mongolian death worm in distant Asia
Wolves chasing caribou following the alpha
Komodo dragon, ropen from New Guinea, and Indian king cobra
View from the swing is far towards north, south, east and west
Each of brothers will have his own quest
The swing is place where they will rest
As they will expand their families crest
The swing reaches far to the air to great expanse
The vastness of that expanse
Makes children’s young souls with joy dance
It is like a dream a romance
But as fresh air reaches the lungs the vision inside it will turn to transcendence
The vision of to universe counterbalance
The spirit that will begin as one writing universe laws and end in brilliance
Equal radiance at the end from base and planetary destiny absolute eminence
In worlds most distant waters children want to swim
But for now let them dream
Swing so small so large to a child will seem
They will remember the wonder years when one day they realize their dream