372.
The Prayer of a Warrior's Heir
Oh Father God, this is the best time to make me a millionaire
This is the greatest moment to be merciful & fair
Merciful to the one being thrown into lion's lair
Fair to the one who cannot escape the snare
Consider this not a temptation nor dare
So with Thy miracles, I can gloriously share!!!
Listen to the Prayer of a Warrior's Heir
The grandson of a soldier allied to those with golden hair
Whose national emblem is still under our care
For their country's our jewel so precious & rare
Whose relation with ours no one can impair
Although our system is corrupt & unfair
Prices going up from veggies to fare
Stomachs are empty, pockets are bare
Yet the aristocrats' banks eternally glare
Glaring with gold they're reluctant to share
Where is your Christianity? Where is your care?
-07/11/2015
(Dumarao)
*My Prayer Poems for Ultimate Victory Collection
A wolf when
raised by dogs
forever
is a wolf
A banker once
he’s crossed the line
can never
steal enough
Aristocrats
their titles
banned
in practice stay elite
A dilettante
who’s been exposed
is then declared
effete
An arrow
with its feathers gone
when fired
lethal still
A grizzly bear
that’s been declawed
his teeth
remain to kill
A judge
without a jury
still hands
a sentence down
A clown
without a circus
can yet
erase a frown
A cop
without a badge
will chase you
till you’re caught
A Nun
without her habit
plain clothed
— in virtue walks
(Thank You Gertrude: December, 2025)
A Handcart and a Ring
A man I knew had a handcart and became self-employed
I often saw him in the town with a load of parcels and sometimes furniture
He was a contented man.
One day, on his way to the railway station, the wheel of his cart came off
four suitcases fell into the street.
So, what to do?
He traced his steps and soon found the missing pieces that kept the wheel
on the axle, but he also found an expensive diamond ring
he put it in his pocket as he was occupied with fixing the wheel
and get his load of suitcases to the railway station
In the paper, he read about a lady who had lost a dear ring
he contacted her via the paper, and she was happy,
she didn’t give him any money because, as she said, honesty has its reward
The people at the paper thought this was too mean for words
made a collection and handed the kind man the money.
A Picture of him and his cart, the paper, and a nice story for the paper to sell.
when too old to push his cart around, he became a poet of the small things in life
and not about the life of aristocrats
Since the earliest Olympic games, history
Has provided the players in dramatic scenes.
Where the acts would command the physical,
As they performed to the kings and queens.
Their display of strength and speed,
Gives rise to power that would adore.
While leaping and throwing to the heavens,
As if they no longer touched the floor.
The early games bred many great warriors,
Whereas today they create better diplomats.
Even though they may not be the best role models,
They're often effective in dealing with aristocrats.
Champagne and wine
Elixirs of the elite's delight
beverages of the upper classes
as they rendezvous and converse
amid soirées decked in elegance
mingling among their
latest art acquisitions
envied, even by the Louvre
The wonderful taste of caviar
In opulent ballrooms, near and far
where aristocrats and fashion find their air
ah yet sometimes I ponder
how the toiling working class
gets through monotonous days
I imagine them after their grind
at the Cox N Bull Tavern
drinking and lapping cheap O'keefe beer
chugging down their boredom
in idle gossip
planning petty crimes
On graduation day you put your saddle shoes away.
You took a naked walk through the garden till you got to the pool.
You had Vivaldi on steroids, Monet on cocaine.
You’re not Mother Theresa. No need to explain.
You smelt iron ore, limestone, and coke in your open-hearth heart.
Staying true to your infidelities is a heritage art.
Let us sit by the fire pit and burn some fat wood,
Making jests while the gods are at play in the forest around us.
Then I’ll sample your cocktail, while you’re sipping mine.
You like my Jack Daniels. Your Pepsi tastes fine.
I’m playing hooky in the Hollywood hills where aristocrats play,
On the first wicked day of summer with Lana Del Rey.
Aristocrats may have it in their blood.
It speaks of deeds both dark and heroic,
of evil villains and the truly good,
and markers left both kindly and despotic .
All were aware of centuries long gone,
of conflicts won and lost upon this shore
and loves and lives both humble and wellborn,
within these brooding walls in days of yore.
Majestic symbol in these northern lands,
inspiring those who tread the Pilgrims’ Way,
who gaze across these shining, shifting sands
and know that Bamburgh’s stories live today.
Dazed and confused
With wondering eye.
Fires alight, inside their minds.
To look upon unspeakable treachery,
Sewn from ivory towers.
By day, by night.
Oligarchs and aristocrats, unsavory powers.
We fight. We fight!
Illusion crafted of contemptuous divide.
Friends versus another
is how the ruling class presides.
For apart, our might is few.
But people United finds strength anew.
Though chaos is what rulers desire,
Their armies stand ready to quell pitchforks and fire.
Violence only begets more violence.
The one thing they truly fear is civil defiance.
For the one thing that truly defeats a tyrant,
Is the one thing they are most incapable of.....
Love.
~ 2020
A tender sun caresses my thoughts, whispering to me of new life, new hope, new joy. A laughing glimpse of daffodil blooms tantalize me with their buttery yellow smiles. Whispers of light reflect off the dawn, kissing my shoulders with a brush of kindness. Musical birds color the azure skies, tittering and chuckling with guffaws of delighted choruses embracing my heart, preening and praising through the heavens. Like a breath, gentle and warm, budding oak, birch and maple sway through a gentle wind as it blows in, thirsty for sweet rain that nurtures the growing dreams of these elderly aristocrats. Winter has finally birthed the rich, vibrant sighs of a Springtime child – delivering pure delight, insight, inspiration, a fullness that penetrates fantasies and imaginations! This is the time for God’s joy to overflow into the earth we know as heaven’s footstool and man’s home for this life.
intense promises
colors so full they kindle
wonders of Springtime
N/A from Springtime Haibun Contest sponsored by M.L. Kiser, judged on 4/5/21
Today entering Final 2021 N-A Choice 3 Poetry Contest by William Kekaula, on May 4, 2021
Methinks, who wanders after pint size toy
To which Aristocrats bow in humbleness?
Afore the little toy went to dance with the rough,
Off the tee in bounces, unto the way unfair,
Wrong way, or off the fair fairway,
Thought hazard but out of bound!
Grudgingly he bowed for a retake,
Now to the little toy the mighty was humbled.
Pint size, mint size, bright white,
Toys in colour bundles.
Fly it goes in kiss with the sky
Little toy, little joy laced in greedy-burden.
Amidst the Aristos stood the landlord, well-trodden,
Yes, the Capo whose toy ran him out of bound,
Silly toy, bad troy, “O, not my day!” He mused.
His baroness hummed, bumped her bum in bummer,
Pitiable they were before the bunker.
“Handicap will tell.” She said in laughter.
But the Aristos were called handicaps too,
Laughed I was at these “Handicaps”
As they missed the little hole in taps.
Hopped the Aristo to win the hole;
Warped the baroness in prayer he missed the hole,
The little hole, pint size toy.
With smiles, his toy, she glanced,
The Aristo did miss the hole.
I laughed at the people of holes.
Hmm! Life with Golfers and little holes.
The advancement of a law that spins
People into a tizzy for reasons maybe unknown even to themselves
Might make sense to professional, arrogant, all-knowing law makers
or lawyers but maybe not so much sense to us regular folks
The evolution of life and humanity is such that we seem to demand
forever after rules, maybe even deeming them necessary as we overpopulate ourselves to a choking degree and kill our planet by not taking care of it with any thought at all.
But are all of these written rules for other folks truthfully
necessary, or just a way for pompous self-appointed
aristocrats to make a name for themselves by making
yet another silly law?
there's a defining source
in the small of my back
telling me to turn to new black --
the new black of knowing
and scare tactics of frowning
down on brown boys
bowling for white pins with black balls
-- big, heavy, black balls --
to the aristocrats and cats
languishing and lounging
by pools with ice liquor
and can cold American
dos piss hors d'oeuvres
Here's a time honored expression
Wild horses couldn't keep me away
Methinks that's pretty much a fallacy
Their power's an awesome display
Wild horses are majestic animals
Roaming free o'er the plains of Nevada
Manes flowing, hoofs a-pounding
They perform their lively cantata
Aristocrats of the animal kingdom
Called Mustangs in the U.S.A.
In Australia, they're known as Brumbies
Each performs an equine ballet
Reclusive high-spirited stately stallions
Reside on a huge open range
This pompous and regal force of nature
A beauty that resists being tamed
must refuse relegation, obey
only the roar of our own angels, then reshape
breastplates to shield the motherland
from any warlord who dares
to pimp our flag.
Battlefields have always been a woman’s place,
We were born to bleed, to fight-
off advances, to heal from the inside-out.
We, nasty, nasty women
who dare castrate filibusters, know grit,
audacity, the combat for higher grounds.
History is lit by an army of fiery
heroines, burnt at stakes by low-life
aristocrats, suckling-pig-kings.
We, Nasty women rise from ashes
to become better-armed daughters,
knightmares, hallowed witches on frontlines,
glorious, undefeated legends.
After Jeanne d'Arc et Saint-Michel by Eugene Thirion, painting seen above
blue
embraced as the color of heaven ,
serene and surreal like the ocean,
all hues in-between
cool, calming
blue.
blue,
the blood of aristocrats,
the moods of dreamers,
revered in song
“Rapsody in Blue”
ultimate loyalty, true
blue.
blue,
hovering between violet and green
infinite shades
worldly renowned
wildly over-used
but what would the world be without
blue.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.