Aristocrats Poems | Examples

a hand cart and a ring

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

The Athlete

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.

The Fine Art of Life

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

Queen Summer the First

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.

Bamburgh

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.

Our Salvation

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

Wonders of Springtime

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

Little Hole

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.

Are All These Laws Really Necessary

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

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

Wild Horses

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

We, Nasty Women

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

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.

Young Blood

The board- flat, immovable, sterile, arranged for a fun, friendly, relaxing battle till the ultimate death but a few aristocrats. The warzone landscape always unblemished, dry and warm. No rain, no freeze. Often the Generals joke whilst there is slaughter- sipping wine with cheese, distracted by trivialities. And still the battle rages. People of rank die in silence. Yet there is no sign of the carnage like Ypres or Pozieres. Youths, kids, young naïve minds are instructed of best ways to kill, strategies of war. Show no mercy and chuckle, encouraged to obliterate. Bang! 
One, two, three… no… four dead, an excellent sacrifice for our side, we killed one royal. Yes, we are further in their land.
Aha, choose which soldier you want to die. Oops, I didn’t see that coming. Hmmmmmm clever.
Check mate!
Immediately the enemy is decimated, there are two fit, healthy, fully mobile armies facing off once again for a deadly duel. Both Generals happy to face off and continue the murderous rampage.

Open Wide the Eye of the Needle

Open Wide The Eye Of The Needle

The eye of the needle is enormously large
It is made for camels to go through                 
Jesus tells us how easy it is                    
The very rich, when they grow up, enter
Pay for their passage into heaven
With lots of money invested in gyms
Simply becoming very thin is their solution
Everything fits with a little effort
The wealthy think they can buy anything
Special diets and medicine help them win
Gain favor with God through vast resources 
Camels enter the needle first
Followed by the elite and aristocrats
Poor people don’t need heaven since they are fat
God doesn’t need slackers in the after life
Someone has to remain on Earth
To make more babies to serve the real needy
Rich people going through the needle won’t be easy

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