Best Blue Blooded Poems
I see this perfect moon-lit night
with million heart-shaped stars in sight
ill-clad with none but drooping leaves
a fig-tree fraught with a disease
its beauty once majestic spoilt
in battle lost ‘gainst arid soil
Against all odds with all its might
a lone fig struggling to the light
I near the tree with footsteps sure
and marvel at perfection pure
a beauty of blue-blooded type
abstained for years I match its ripe
Then common sense lets turmoil in
footsteps once sure now uncertain
like Eve had been that first aeon
I’m gripped twixt hard rock and a stone:
like angels do, with caution tread
or foolishly go right ahead?
I gaze to heav’n the slightest while
a star winks with the merest smile
I wink back once, fig’s beauty draws
no human born without its flaws
entranced, I reach to nature’s art
a softness settles in my heart
I’m awestruck by my juicy dish
on first bite I will make a wish
I pare my find with great aplomb
perfection glows within its womb
I wish upon my luscious feast
well soon I too would be deceased
The love was pure twixt you and me
from knee-high way past puberty
your final gift bore on bent knee
aware your last meal it would be
our fig we shared with great delight
first you, then me, alternate bites
Heart’s softness hardens, deeply torn
a lone tear in each eye is born
they multiply, become yet more
in memory of our days of yore
this perfect fig brought none but pain
no fig will pass my lips again
************************************
Round and round, around we go
Another speech, another show
Lies, half truths, exaggerations
Blue blooded cowboys toppling nations
Drunk with power, blind to the past
Corrupted by greed, right down to the last
"We fight for a people, they yearn to be free"
So clearly untrue, I must disagree
So righteous, so noble. Protecting the weak
Black blood of the earth is all that they seek
With such words I'm a "traitor", They're quick to condemn
Destroying our nation, the traitors are them
We try to have faith, though they've taken our voice
What good is a vote, when given no choice
Now our people divided, our country is torn
When hope is forgotten, revolutions are born.
"Why is it", the donkey mused, "that horses get all the glory?
Seems throughout the ages its the same old hackneyed story.
We go unheralded and are treated with utter disdain,
While horses bear king and emperor about their vast domain!"
"Though we are somewhat ungainly and will never win a race,
We've born distinctive personages with extraordinary grace!
I'll tell you of unnamed heroes among our humble breed,
That will outshine the acclaim of any blue-blooded steed!"
"Mister Ed the talking horse has nothing on the donkey Balaam rode.
She saw an angel of the Lord in the way and promptly left the road!
Balaam cursed, the donkey talked some sass and was beaten thrice!
The angel was about to slay Balaam had he not heeded her advice!"
"A donkey was in the stable when the Prince of Peace was born.
Later to Egypt they fled - on a donkey Mary's Babe was borne.
For entry into Jerusalem, He chose a donkey, a borrowed one at that.
Hosanna! Hosanna! God's Son it was! There he regally sat!"
"We've had astride us preachers, desperados and hardy pioneers,
And have been accused of stubborness driving mankind to tears!
But when all is said and done, we provide reliable transportation,
Getting you slowly but safely to your ultimate destination!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF
© All Rights Reserved
I am here on an archaeological quest,
to satisfy many a curious mind's request
for knowledge on antiques and artifacts
of Egypt's long extinct historical facts,
in treasured sands buried, like gold mines earnestly
sought for in stories shrouded in mythology.
With a large contingent just as curious as I,
hardly daunted by curses, but with shoulders high,
we went to the field, the sun baking us chaps
to a baker's delight. With our rumpled maps,
we searched every clue, and were bitten perhaps
by a million flies. Getting relief from sunless skies
in times of fair weather, whilst hoping something lies
in the depths of the hot sands for our very eyes
to see. With my tools by hard work and search worn out,
I brushed to full view, the tomb, brilliantly carved out
of young blue blooded Tut, regally laid to rest.
To my wearied colleagues, I spoke in real earnest:
'To exhume the past, we are here at last.'
Form:
Rustic mountains
Through glaciations
Moulded this wonderful
Scottish Nation
Caledonian Forests
Covered our land
On our Western Islands
Golden beached sands
Glens and rivers
Cris cross our land
Glorious moors
Where the Highland Stag stands
Majestic and tall
Proud and might
This king of beasts
The most wonderful sight
Scenery to thrill
Heather-ed in purpled bloom
Look out any window
Its our own front room
Golden Eagles
Soar above these lands
Winged royalty
In their blue blooded strand
Our contribution to our modern world
Is all around us, read and learn
Logie Baird, with Television
Pedal Cycle, Kirkpatrick MacMillan
Medical marvel, Penicillin
In other Nations our touch has felt
Our Ancestors us, we Celts
For centuries we cast our nets
To further lands
We were always met
Friendly Scots in every way
Gave this world
A better say
America, Canada, New Zealand too
Us Scots are in me and you
Ancestral blood runs through our veins
The quite wonderful Scottish strain
Alba.
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/scotland.php
AFTER THE STORM
Babes and birds breath a prayer wish
upon gush of silky soppy swift swish.
Merciful Zion must have heard
for sometime the bleeding sky trot.
A mile long grin peeps on vertured hills
as prismatic shades speak as petals swells.
Imprisoned now the storm in rainbow's chest
as sun enfolds the shadows in zest.
Across blue blooded ocean's breeze,
jolly handsome feathers finally find the mist
on bells bright blooming feast--
no longer bent or shadow kissed.
Dimpled cheeks unfurl as dusk arise
longing rest after a turbulent surprise.
Sedulous moon and stars squire a light
pageant-like prance for a night delight.
Amidst heartstrings spelled dreams
cotton strums from a guitar rang in stream
Accompanied by rhymes from lapping waves
sweet [oh, sweet], scars are healed
Cuddled safe and secure
the little girl snore in twinkling tunes.
A dimpled cheek smile
as she slumbers a long long while.
©
8:39pm
October 08. 2014
In the thickets of the forests and grooves
On the paths through the deserts and the wild
Walked in the robe of nobility
The one who defied the wind and tidal wave
Who throned on a mighty white horse
Decked in regalia of a consummate conqueror
A blue-blooded woman that ascended a throne
In the reign of men, under a the glare of a proud race
Her power and dominion beyond the great Elizabeth
Her rule grim and firm than Margaret Thatcher’s
The wind and wave did her bidding at battlefronts
She was ruthless and wise in governance
Her sword thrusted to the sand blood and hearts of men at war
Bent on conquest she knew no defeat
Bu spoils, plunders of warriors, kings and horses
She held court over men of wisdom and age
She dispensed justice with dispassion
She rode home in triumphant sound of trumpets
To the waiting arms of loyal subjects and servants
In the days when women stood in full heights.
my heart is heavy today for all the soldiers who have passed away.
family members still cry out to you, for all that you did and all that you still do.
you still do it because you give us the" strength and will" to continue your fight
even if it's just putting your stories into black and white.
the red , white , and blue is not just the colors of our flag
it is part of our being - the red is the blood that we share , the white is our souls pure and white ( and that's the reason we don't give up the fight) the blue is for all blue blooded Americans who have stood up when our nation called
and that is why we are the greatest nation of all.
the blood of Americans lie on many a land, and to our flag we salute and stand.
ALWAYS IN OUR HEARTS AND MINDS AND YOU 'LL BE THERE TILL THE ENDS OF TIME
Lynn, the tom-boy of Herald Square, couldn't be compared to Princess
Diana, or a similar one for finesse to perfectly fit in a royal scene;
that ordinary gal had a foolish wish of a non-blue-blooded Queen,
who rarely smiled, or said, " Thank you. " when they offered her a rose.
Her dad knew people in high places that loved green,
and he wanted her to look good to get more praise
and attention by squandering lots of money
on a wedding, not worth the social status and the stupidity;
to the wedding ceremony no royalty came only family and friends...
you would have had the impression that Queen Elisabeth
would have walked into the hall and congratulate her!
Eh, wasn't that a foolish wish of a non-blue blooded Queen?
Folks, don't nod in disapproval, the story gets better as it should;
the guests waited outside Saint Patrick's the Cathedral expecting a limousine...
not quite so! The royal coach pulled by two gray horses stopped at the curb,
the bride zoomed out dragging along the broom, not allowing him to greet anyone;
someone shouted, " Pretty boy, what's her rush? Why is she so jealous? He stared
at that upset gal and muttered, " Sorry " while his left ear was being pinched hard.
Bear with me a little bit longer, the best is yet to come, enjoy this comedy!
" Idiot! Idiot! Don't embarrass me!" Gino whispered...
" I shouldn't embarrass you in front of Miss Universe? "
" I will marry you...for worse, not for better! " Lynn vowed with madness,
and barging in, she forgot to pick up her wedding dress and tripped
and fell on her butt sliding down the isle while onlookers were filled with incredibility...
then she ran out stepping on Cardinal Cooke's foot who was returning from a wake!
The wedding was called off, and Gino was reproved by his mom for his mistake.
After reading my drama, who would have a foolish wish of a non-blue-blooded Queen?
Making drastic changes by acting on foolishness, doesn't make one look so keen.
What colour is the sea and the sky?
For the blue-blooded guy and the blue-eyed boy
And everyone else, they are blue, but why?
Blue whales are the largest, blue films some enjoy,
Soothing the nerves; Blue, the blues, destroy.
S.Jagathsimhan Nair, 29th Feb 12
The Land Of Royal Monarchs
from the plains we see
the land of royal monarchs
perched on a hilltop
its architecture
draws us to the heritage
of the blue blooded
secret lives of kings
unveiled flamboyancy with
queens and courtesans
heirs of dynasties
dreamed treacheries and murders
as game for the throne
princely monument
in prime was bereft of love
now gardens tourists
April 20, 2015
For Nayda Ivette Negron
A man died
I saw his face
In the city of Lagos
Oh what a place
On the highway
I saw him die
Hit by a car
Passing by
Nobody cared
They just walked on by
But I did
This was no lie
Materialism has made us cared less about ourselves
Capitalism has turned us to selfish evil elves
So who will pay for the sins of Nigeria?
Black Jesus with patriotism which meets the criteria
So who will stop the looting and stealing?
When millions suffer and they care not for the living
A man died
I saw his face
In the city of Lagos
Oh what a place
On the roadside
He died
With blood gushing from his nostrils
I could see the angels
Pulling him to the heaven
in numbers of seven
Death is a like deep sleep
Except from the pained that is accompanied
His eyes were wide open
Like as if he wanted to tell me something
And then it was nothing
And nothing
But nobody cared
He could have been my brother
Or the siblings of another
Or the father or that other
Man riding in his SUV
Didn’t even care to look at me
As I wept
What is wrong with humanity?
Are we still human?
Are we still human?
Why should babies go hungry with nothing to eat?
When the blue blooded flaunt their diamonds on power’s seat
But remember that man on the street
We will all be like him someday
When it is Judgment Day
Now account for your sins and pay
Vanity upon vanity
But yet I need that vanity to survive
When I am alive
It is relevant
When I am dead
It is not
But there are some things money can not buy
Love, good health and happiness
A man died
I saw his face
Yet I could not remember
The name of the place
In another land
Where nobody cares
I grabbed my head in despair
Justice is for the rich
And the poor are doomed
But all these are regarded as economic boom
Inflation is high
And corruption rate is higher
I can smell smoke and I can see fire
We are many now
Over a billion plus
We are ruled by fools who carry the curse
For a hundred years
I know no peace
Until I got to Heaven’s gate
Where all my sorrows cease
And the dead man is buried with respect
And nobody in the world is treated with neglect
We half-hearts cling as scaffold
Mouths of cellophane statements
Morphia inducing as our eyes talc-storm over
Seeing nothing in everything
Like a tank we collide, by the
Edges of a summer vortex pushing as bulimia
It is only the intoxication of drink talking
However, I am yet to take even one mute glass
Empty bottles clutter regardless like rats swan-necked
And corner-slipped like zymotic casings
Speaking slow theremin thunders
Water-washed into neck-delicate walls meeting
Vapour hitting equal to bullets or butterflies
Equations of minus mixed with minus
A downward spiral of blitz-neon roars
Sekt and saxophones hitting like opium
To a rotten core; and I'm sure you remember
If you do then I hate you, and if not you disgust me
How I gave your apple back and
How my Bohemia is your gate
And how my gait is quite unassuming
But again, my sweet heart, it is only a larynx painting the air
With a true-to-type blue-blooded red-devilled roar.
I have not much knowledge to flaunt
Or any mystic power to my credit,
And as I walk the star-lit evening streets
I meet and bypass men of higher merit.
And yet I think of you and feel myself a king
Over all the blue-blooded folks before my sight,
I don’t boast for all to know my fantasy throne; -
I walk like a king and think the thoughts of a knight.
Unlike titled monarchs who honors entertain
This king has no honor parades at military schools
Nor regalia of any official nature to distinguish
The emperor from the ordinary folks he rules.
Although one may deem him a lesser sovereign
His kingdom has its great gains since little is at stake,
For enemy forces aren’t aware of his imagined throne
And thus no foe can oust him and his privileges take.
Now comes the time when I no longer speak- nothing
But my blue blooded vessel makes the speech
I'm not faulty, its the write thing
Now comes the time when my programmed Homing Pigeon no more function
Hard it may be
But its the blue blooded vessel that gave me unction
I may be called but refuse to dine
I just don't have appetite
The blue blooded vessel had put the 'write' food on my canine
Now comes the time I'm thirsty
But need not water
The blue blooded vessel produces plenty
Now comes write communication with FAEO
My right hand master
And OLA WRITES my coach behind the scene
The blue blooded vessel made me feel I'm a hero
Now I know the 'write' deal is the 'write' thing
All my might I am investing
Gripping the vessel with my thumb and supporting it with the next finger
I'm emerging a flying writer