Best Aristocrats Poems
dadgum doctors, heads up their butts
poking, prodding, pricking skin
neurologist a psychopath
gets pleasure as electric volts pass through my body
family doctor showed little concern
made me paranoid about irregular heartbeat
EKG failed to determine cause
left me more in doubt than at ease
dentist like a character from Dustin Hoffman’s “Marathon Man”
the more pain inflicted
the more he rejoiced
deep root cleaning caused severe infection
bloodwork done by Vampira clones
labs filled with tubes and needles
results not shared with me
yet I footed the bill
optometrist an Oriental who moved so fast
didn’t care if the prescribed glasses worked
boo on you, dang aristocrats
waving your credentials
nurses so slow to respond
MRI promised on CD, but couldn’t be obtained
just like the blood tests, needed a “report”
doctors driving me insane
each should share my mental hospital bills
*Based on ongoing health tests and written for PD’s contest. Assignment Free Verse, 25 lines, category slam, sad and educational, title: Mental Hospital Bills
Categories:
aristocrats, education, sad, slam, me,
Form:
Free verse
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
Categories:
aristocrats, allegory, history, political,
Form:
Ekphrasis
Haiti, the home of voodoo practices
Seventeenth Century Spain cedes to France
Catholic Spaniards trembled when they saw
“Dead” men revived to wander in trances
A vile poison can make men appear dead
Revival requires an antidote
But perhaps there is more to zombie lore
An explanation to why these souls woke
Brutally treated slaves worked sugar fields
Captives from Africa known as “Maroons”
As French aristocrats sat and grew fat
Blacks sweated for “sweets” in the tropic sun
Buried guilt deep at night still festers
For conscience is God’s gift to each man
Some may suppress it for just a short time
‘Til magical night envelopes the land
Spirits of those who were taken in chains
Are given by God a chance to rebel
Stalking the living in deathly pallor
Haunting their captors with visions of hell
“Zombifications,” Maroons erected
Spreading the horrors of slavery with anger
Showing the French what their evil produced
And putting their sanity in danger
So please put the voodoo dolls back on shelves
The needle-sharp pricks of remorse can sting
Enslaved Maroons prevail in heaven’s court
Our Creator’s eyes aren’t missing a thing
Magic, black or white, God sees no color
Love is bestowed on men of all races
And those who question the Lord’s intentions
Should look in the eyes of living-dead faces
Categories:
aristocrats, history, socialgod, men, night,
Form:
Quatrain
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
Categories:
aristocrats, appreciation, art, imagery, integrity,
Form:
Free verse
Sometimes I learnt, mmhh……… actually,
Most of the times that…………
Words are lesser than actions
And actions don’t depict intentions
Half this life one spends wondering literally in the mind.
I on the other end,
Have a rendezvous with sleep.
Wonder I left to the well built intellectually,
Like Okumu!
I want to visit Jamaica while not high!
My wedding will take place in Venice,
The city of masqueraders in the name of aristocrats!
Of merchants and shylocks!
Clearly I don’t wonder!
I am ten feet deeper than the corpse
Somehow on my way down there,
I heard them whisper from afar
And now I am about to reach the earth’s core………..
I heard magma burn with fiery down there!
Could it be the same hell the vicar preached?
Truly I wonder not!
All the same, I happened!
I am the rule of the thumb-
If it wasn’t written, it didn’t happen.
Where you ask?
Right in the pupil of your eye
As you stare into my lips, reciting this piece to you
And to think I don’t wonder!
Categories:
aristocrats, imagination
Form:
Be it that I am doomed to walk the Earth
In fear of time - measured in mere fractions;
Starlight grants me comfort with twinkling mirth,
Lost in wakes of dread deeper than oceans.
I'd ask what it means to live over time,
of paupers; preachers; aristocrats, too -
why lives are measured in short centuries.
For stars, it is nothing if not untrue.
A middle child with no hope to call mine;
with stately manners, I protest, "I'm fine,
doomed to be but shadows and memories."
Stardust divines our eager fingerprints
imbued on the walls of our history:
generations defined by reticence
and willful blindness to its mystery.
I'd ask what it means to swallow my fears,
of gods and kings and legends in their prime,
to carve in my heart courage that's blinding -
Like stars whose light shines long after their time.
O' Father I'll pray the rest of my years
through the funeral rites and birthday cheers,
"Grant me the stars when life stops rewinding."
With tired devotion left in my soul
I'll shatter the world to see what I'm worth -
memories that used to make me feel whole,
buried like innocence lost in childbirth.
I'll say what it means to temper my pride
to mothers and fathers, both who are lost,
Silently waiting till we come of age.
It's the ones you bring up that bear the cost.
Tell your kids before their eyes open wide;
Before their lungs, filled with air, rise like the tide;
"Stand and face your mortality with rage!"
Categories:
aristocrats, children, humanity, inspirational, time,
Form:
Iambic Pentameter
We are born into the world of Diversity
A school every mortal must pass through; it is the “Way of Life” University
To graduate with a noble degree from this institution
One cannot afford to live a life of isolation
The Creator made them in his image different shades of black and white
Truly they are all a wonder to behold and a sheer delight
In hills, valleys, forests, islands and deserts can they be found
From wherever they are, up above they see the same sea of cloud
Christianity, Islam, Buddhism and Paganism to mention a few
Some of man’s attempt to know the creator, to know what is true
These bring some form of order into our world
They are like several streams of water flowing into the same sea; diverse paths to the same god
Royalty, Technocrats, Aristocrats and Bourgeois
Working Class, Artisans, Unlearned and Paupers
These are classes of people in mankind’s social hierarchy
They must all strive to coexist in harmony; lest there be great anarchy
In our dressing, dance, norms and inventions we see the differences
As we interact with other cultures, we observe the variances
Over time, we tend to develop feelings of indifference, superiority or inferiority
In all of this diversity, we all breathe the same air; this binds us in unity
Categories:
aristocrats, inspiration, nature, philosophy,
Form:
Rhyme
All Bottled Up
Bottlenecks are one thing driving down the road
Making one late for work is another
Cumbersome, slow and an all time low
Containers made from glass have their ups and downs
Mostly downs we’re told
Their poisons kill aristocrats, the poor, poets known and unknown
Highs and lows are surely going to come
From bottles filled with rum
At first a happy swirling drunk
Becomes laid out sad and dumped
Delicious wine waits for me when I get home
The matter is getting beyond the cork and glass
Such troubles are these things
Bottles simply have no class and make me wince
To obtain the treasure there within
I have to use the cork screw
But bottle with evil intent conspires with the opener
Will not help me or comply to let me in
What’s the use? A hammer will have to do
Other bottles from long ago held potions, magic, and snake oil brew
Fluids ran wild in the old west causing more deaths than cures for sure
And no one had a clue it was the containers that they used
When shipping bottles made from glass
I have to label “fragile” and send them 1st. class
The ebb and flow and pour from every bottle
Illegal in Prohibition times
Caused many alcoholics to cry
I guess that was a crime
Consumers today can fill their glasses free from thought
From decanters, jars and urns that carry their own weight
Someone with a bottle will always be around though
To hit me on my head for something I might say
And if the bottle breaks, someone, (I'm guessing me), will have to pay
5/19/14 Slamming Battle Round 2 contest
Categories:
aristocrats, conflict, drink, history, silly,
Form:
Free verse
The birds of pray are on their way, in every beak the Word
(of ptomaine tomes by gnarly gnomes) whose meaning is obscured;
they roost aloof on every roof, obscene but always herd,
to tell the tale of Jonah’s whale and other rhymes absurd -
with shifty eyes, they’re giving whys for living life deferred.
While jackals lean, hyenas mean, and hungry crocodiles
feast in the lounge and never scrounge, lambs languish in the aisle.
The naive dare to say “Unfair, let’s try to reconcile.
We’ll all relax and weigh the facts, let justice spin the dial.”
With jaundiced monks and minds pre-shrunk, the jury is compiled.
The Rulers meet, First Ladies greet, the Kings appear in style.
Before the Court, their sins are short, they’re swept into a pile;
with diatribes and petty bribes, the jurors are beguiled.
The Herd entreats, the Shepherd bleats the verdict of the trial:
“You have no face. Stay in your place, stay in the Rank and File.
And wait instead, for when you’re dead, for riches afterwhile”;
Aristocrats add caveats while sailing down the Nile:
“If Minds are mugged or simply drugged with philtres in a vial,
then few indeed will fail to feed the Pharaoh’s Crocodile.”
The wordsmiths spin, the bankers grin and politicians smile,
the riff and raff, they never laugh, they mark a martyred mile.
The rituals are finished, all, here comes the Reverent Priest.
He leads the crowds beneath the clouds, and there the flock is fleeced
with crossing signs and bloody wines and consecrated yeast,
“The last are first, the rich are cursed.” (The leached remain the least.)
His step is gay without dismay before his evening feast;
he thanks the Lord for room and board and bows to Eden East;
he doesn’t sigh or wonder why the sins have not decreased.
The sinking sun is now undone, the sky is fading red.
A spider black hides in a crack and spins a silken thread
and babes will soon collapse and swoon, on curbs they call a bed;
with vacant eyes they'll fantasize and dream of gingerbread,
and so be freed, though still in need, from anguish of the dead.
Continued
Categories:
aristocrats, drug, fantasy,
Form:
Rhyme
I feel like I’ve known you so long
And I feel like I could tell you anything
But there is one thing I cannot say to you
That I want you, need you, love you
We talk and I laugh and smile
But deep down inside,
Bubbling to the surface
There are words at the back of my throat
Dying to get out
That though I know we both have our flaws
And imperfections, I know our hands would fit
Perfectly together and I have a feeling
You can dance really well
And that you’d be one of the few
That I can really be me around
“But every time I tried to tell you
The words just came out wrong”
And our pasts just don’t permit us
To be together anyway
Not that I had a chance to be
Worthy of all that you have to offer
Because you’re a Harvard man
And I’m a small town girl
And I know you don’t feel that way
But I don’t belong in your world
Of aristocrats and dinner parties
And politicians and expensive suits
I know where I belong
I belong with someone
Who is a bit more like me
But I can’t help who I love
It happens automatically
Not that you love me anyway
It was just a thought
That money doesn’t matter
But my love is not to be bought.
Categories:
aristocrats, feelings, future, love, relationship,
Form:
Free verse
Here's a time honoured expression
Wild horses couldn't keep me away
Methinks that's pretty much a fallacy
Their power is 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
© Jack Ellison 2012
Categories:
aristocrats, animals,
Form:
Quatrain
The grand madam wore double strains of opal perils,
Around her collar of white lace, in eloquence personified,
She’s cultures Lady of utter refinement, curtsying to noble
And high brad’s aristocrats alike.
In fragrances of memories I’ve drifted backwards,
To a time of Lillie’s corsages tied upon white gloved
Wrists, long gowns of silk that trailed behind ladies
Of status and grace.
Glided carriages adorned with opulence’s wealth,
Lined these main streets busy thoefairs,
Drawn by horse powers elect.
Pulling these beguiling vessels beneath oil lamp light,
Did the pampered horse flesh travel, delivering the
High born royals, from fancy balls, to posh dinner
Parties and the rich man’s society clubs.
Gentries Gallant dapper Dan’s went a courting,
Seeking beauties ungloved hands, with sweet kisses
Of vows promise, yet a dowers riches blinded their
Eyes, to the spoiled countesses true nature, so these
Court Jesters with mouths full lies deceptions,
Got their own back lashings tongue, in the end.
In these arena of wealth and fortitude, did Madame
So travel, amongst the crimson carpet walking
With prides stride, holding her head held high,
Never exposing the lower birth from which
She’d been birthed.
For she knew the truth hidden behind these
Fanciful fans of lavender and lace lay masks
Of masquerades charades, and games of
Fortune were played by dollar’s gains, not
The feelings of heart.
True class exudes not from ones pedigree,
Or families wealth and power, but instead
It comes from within, honor, duty and a
Soul’s valor of spirit.
At the evenings final climatic hour,
This mistress of the wise, seeks her humble
Shafto’s warming bower, sitting in her chamber
Of isolation, she smile at the portrait hanging
Above her mantels fire place.
Whispering slowly, soon beloved, she blows him a
Final kisses farewell, then drifts into infinities
Drifting realm of for-get-me-knots.
Behold its Madame’s last curtain call,
Let us all throw red roses at her feet,
For if a lady of true elegance ever existed,
On this earth of ours it was her, Madame
Of lavender and white lace, let the opal
Chains of perils thus be broken, as her eyes
Of classes distention, close for the last and
Final time
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Categories:
aristocrats, art, beauty, class, devotion,
Form:
Free verse
As I struggle with thoughts about life,
I pack up Christmas items:
(1) Removed Christmas China decorated with holly
(2) Stacked up those gold charger plates now no party
(3) Bagged up the centerpiece, removed green candles
(4) Things beginning to look in shambles
(5) Check those Christmas placemats
(6) Clean spots can tell we are not aristocrats
(7) Fold pine green Damask Tablecloth
(8) The naked table stands like a Behemoth_
Well, in my old age I am beginning to match the table..
Categories:
aristocrats, life, christmas, christmas, green,
Form:
List
Is it the West Wing is not the Best Wing?
Is it the White House is not the Right House?
Is it the President needs a New Residence?
Is it the Democrats the “New Aristocrats?”
Is it the Different Changing or Staff rearranging?
Is it the Many allegations leading to terminations?
Is it the Confessions? The firing of Jeff Sessions?
Is it the Twitter Sitter has gotten bitter?
Is it the Fast and fury of a President weary?
Is it the Things going on that’s so unstable?
You should all be able to resolve the issues and sit at the same table
Is it the CNN banning from the White House?
What happened to Freedom of the Press?
So many things going wrong, it is just a big, hot mess
Is it the Migrant caravan which is said to be an “Invasion?”
Is it the Diversity of the Black, the Chinese, Hispanic or Asian?
Is it our election process and how it was done?
Nine days after and still unsure who won
Is it the Provisional ballots and uncounted votes
That’s making other countries look at us and take notes
Of what it is that they should not do
What happened to being the country that the others looked up to?
When it comes to the friction, what's really going on? Everyday there's something new, but nothing better. Right now there is no control, so much is out of control, so many wanna control. The conflicts, disagreements, war of words... really yall??? We are so much better than the behavior being demonstrated.
To me personally, it's not about the Democrats winning or the Republicans winning if when it's all said and done, the country is losing.
The Constitution of the United States (Preamble) begins by saying, “We the People…” Which means, it’s about coming together, uniting and winning for The People! It is about us! FIGURE IT OUT!!!
The bickering and fussing, it all just needs to stop
Let's get this country where it belongs - And that is back on top!
Categories:
aristocrats, america, change, leadership, people,
Form:
Narrative
After July abdicates, august August arrives,
and the year advances, as annually agreed.
After assessing alternative alternatives and accords,
as anticipated, no other affirmative alternative is advanced.
Actually August is always an annual actuality, affably accepted
as amicable and always awaited ardently, as July avidly absconds!
Anxiously active actions advise August adherents, to atrabilious accordingly,
as days are abridged and abbreviated, around-the-clock! Slowly
as all administrations adjourn, advocates abort all agonistic argument,
as analysis of aforethought Acts are advanced, and addendums
are amicably agreed. After appropriate and amusing accolades are accepted,
all approve of appeasement, as another additional accidental adventitious
activity appears! August is always appreciated and advances, as aide-de-camps
award and authorise aristocrats and actuaries, to amalgamate advertising agencies,
although angry animosity always aggravates, angers, and aggrieves
anti-agreement antagonists! Assuaging angry aged academics and agents,
aghast at angry animosity, always attracts acrimonious atrabilious attention.
As an acknowledged antidote, an amusing anecdote is always acceptable,
as an agreeable anaesthetic appetizer, and allaying fears. An atmosphere
of aggravated argument, also assures all august, August activities are
axed and abolished abruptly, as September appropriately and advisedly appears!
Adieu, Adios, Arrivederci, Au revoir August and Amen!
Rhymer. September 1st, 2016..
Categories:
aristocrats, august,
Form:
Alliteration