Best Czars Poems


Premium Member Magical Mystical Moon

Her journey begins in the west
a golden globe upon her breast,
amongst a carousel of stars;
although she sleeps, she never rests.

Gazing at the heavenly czars, 
passing on a course from afar.
illuminated by the sun,
floating in an astral bazaar.

Flirtatious, concealing for fun,
a myriad of faces spun.
Her province, to adjust the tides;
with mystic powers it is done.

At a celestial pace she glides,
passing astrological signs.
On a cycle, cannot linger;
keeping a course that she abides.

A wise old crone, no beginner;
knows when to rise, shine, and shimmer.
An orbit of mystique and charm,
sometimes bright and sometimes dimmer.


Date: May 23, 2022
For: Rubaiyat Contest Poetry
Sponsored by: Sotto Poet
Syllables verified on Howmanysyllables.com
Rhymes verified on Rhymezone.com
Rhyme Scheme: aaba-bbcb-ccdc-dded-eefe
Placed 3rd in contest

Premium Member Caesar Sees Her Alliteration

Sea Czar Caesar sees her seated on a cedar two-seater beside the East Sea Seder.  He grieves since he sees his sister, Esther Dexter, with her red festered blister, next her.  

Guinevere is pleased her eager leader, Caesar’s seen her.  In degrees, she breezes, “Sir, see our sea surf?  These sea treasures are pleasures to sea czars and we serfs.”

Caesar desires, if it please her, to seize her and squeeze her.

But Esther Dexter who’s next her interjects the elder perspective protector with an inflective reflector.

“Easy, wheezy geezer Caesar.  It may please her if you squeeze her at your leisure, but if you seize her in a fever, she’s sure to seizure; so leave her at ease, sir!”

Peeved Caesar, seethes, sneezes, wheezes, breathes and proceeds.  He’s pissed his less best pest of a sister, Esther Dexter, with her red festered blister, persists amidst this tryst.  

He flees to cleave Guinevere’s knees.  “See here, dear Guinevere.  I’m neither teaser nor misfeasor geezer and will not proceed to cede to my tongue twisted sister, Esther Dexter.  Please heed to receive my believable plead so I may leave relieved.”

Guinevere is pleased with her Caesar and suggests to Esther Dexter to leave her and Caesar forever.

Deliver Me, Deliver Us

I have found my voice

at humanity’s eleventh hour

I have found my voice because

I called upon humanity’s wisdom

and asked if I can help to deliver

to you

some units of joy

and lessons of love

so I ask you to hear humanity's inevitable lovesong

ancient

humble

soothing

And deliver me

deliver us

deliver me 

on the days Jefferson spoke of inalienable rights

deliver us into that night of human liberation

when czars were overthrown and utopia envisioned

deliver me on the day Martin had his dream
	
deliver us on the day Paris’ commune became community

deliver me

deliver us

I say deliver me

And deliver us

Because without the us 

there is no me

And without the me 

There is no us

humanity’s struggle

constant argument between

Me

And 

Us

The me and the us

Were at 

Lexington Concord

Gettysburg

St. Petersburg

Stalingrad

Omaha beach

Paris, Prague, and Mexico in 1968

Tianenmen Square in 1989

And Occupy Wall Street 

The me and the us

Are at kitchen table

Deciding whose childhood is spared

The me and the us are at

Parliaments all over the world

Deciding whose life is worthwhile

The me and the us are at the UN

Deciding which nations are worthwhile

The me and the us

History has been about the me and the us

History’s first experiment in liberation

Stalin and world interrupted, still insisting on the me

so I ask you, humanity

I implore you

In the name of so many terrified faces

In the name of so many torture chamber places

I ask you here and now

At humanity’s eleventh hour

brink of armaggedon's world war

to

Deliver me 

And deliver us

Deliver us from humanity's dark night

let the children and future generations breathe

freedom's air

Deliver me

Deliver us

Deliver me

Deliver us.


Premium Member The Obama Song

Chorus:
             Barack Obama
             Barack Obama
             He's the U.S.A.'s own Dalai Lama.

             Barack Obama
             Barack Obama
             He's the guy who's here to save yer Momma.

Verse 1:

Oh yeah Obama's here an' he's really cool
Gonna tell yer kids to pay attention in school
Gonna make us all follow the Golden Rule
'Cause he knows Michelle ain't gonna suffer no fools!

He's an all-around, straightup nice kinda guy
Who don't get upset when ya scream "You Lie!"
He cares about the Earth and he cares about the sky
Gives ya cash for the clunkers you were stupid to buy.

Chorus

Verse 2:

He's gonna stim-u-late us, gonna spread the wealth,
Gonna write out a prescription for the nation's health,
Gonna come down on Insurance like a big black Stealth
Gonna take those stem cells down off the shelf!

He's gonna see we win in Afghanistan,
Someway, somehow - without a plan.
When yer rude to da cops he is da Man
Who'll give ya both beers an' make it right again.

Chorus

Verse 3:

He's appointed more Czars than the U.S.S.R.,
Gonna raise the mileage on yer car
Gonna lower those emissions both near and far
It lookin' snappy like a First Exec Star.

Can't answer "yes" or "no", it takes a paragraph
To get to the point, then it's good for a laugh
The Right hates everybody servin' on his Staff
- But their side of the Aisle makes most of the gaffes.

Chorus

Verse 4:

Is there anything Obamaman cannot do?
The assertions are fantastic; some may even be true.
He beat out Mrs. Clinton right outta da blue,
Now he's lookin' out for me and he's lookin' out for you.

If his ears were any bigger he could teach himself to fly,
But despite his geekiness he's still a heckuva guy
His heart is fulla Hope, his head is in the sky
An' if you give him grief Ms. Pelosi'll make you cry.

                                   WORD!

Chorus et finis

Always Follow Through

ALWAYS FOLLOW THROUGH
By Roy Merritt

Remember ol' Joe Stalin I'm sure most of you do
A man of little compassion who would always follow through
So I guess he's an inspiration in some twisted perverted way
And I guess it's true so very true every mad dog has his day

It's something to consider I guess, something not quite defined
So don't go just giving up keep that red tyrant in mine
Yes my friend that's a must that's what you have to do
Do like ol' Uncle Joe and always follow through

Leon Trotsky he needed killing, but was living so far away
And Uncle Joe was perplexed with the distance of his prey
Yes he surely needed killing REVISIONIST, REBEL, SPY
Now the problem before him was for some killer to apply

And so he came up with Jackson though Spanish for a fact
He was the one to do it with a mountain climber's ax
And so it finally came off Joe did what he had to do
That's something to admire I guess a man who follows through

It's been like that throughout history from Caesar to the Czars
Dictators aplenty the equal of the shining stars
These men of frightful menace willing to put you to the sword
And carry out any sentence whether simple man or lord

It's hard to imagine however, hard to comprehend
The sheer audacity of like-minded men
And the greater the villain, the worse that you've knew
Seems to have the greatest capacity to always follow through

There's a lesson here though such lessons might well malign
The thoughts of goodness you've had beaten into your mind 
Perhaps it's just persistence that these villains so possessed
I'm sure there's knowledge about it that would to this attest

I'd hate to think otherwise I'd hate to think I'm just a fool
That in order to be so inclined one has to be a ghoul
To have the heart to do what one must surely do
And always, yes always, always follow through

Vermont

Feeling the August sun
dry the pond's cool water
off of my back and shoulders.
Noticing my chin is thick
with salt and pepper stubble.
Wearing the same yellow t-shirt
for three days
without realizing.
Cooking up green bean soup
on a fire that I started.
Reading about Russian Czars
from a used paperback
I bought at the library.
Mopping up the last dribbles
of soup with the bread
I bought that morning.
Listening to doo wop
coming from my jeep's radio.
Watching the clouds crawl 
across the mild blueness.
Rolling up my jeans
to use as a pillow.
Staring at the stars
sparkling in the
deep purple.


Fun

I wrote this just for fun
The poem has now begun 

Now sit back in your seat
For a poem that will be neat

It could be about life
Or death by a knife

Maybe about loads of money
Enough that it wouldn't be funny

Possibly about fast cars
Or long dead Russian Czars 

How about your favorite pet
Or even your best friend Brett

What if it was completely random
Nothing seems in tandem

Well that is true
Who Knew






					2/25/09
© Enik Fox  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Sure Cure For a Sick Nation

Alas, we've elected bozos on both sides to again guide the nation!
(Some folks are sobbing in their ale, others are filled with jubilation!)
To rid this great nation of such knaves, here is what I would propose:
Elect retired noncoms who are well qualified to lead, heaven knows!

Noncoms are known for their integrity and by the way, lead from the front!
They don't take shhhtuff from anyone and are known to be rather blunt!
There should be a crusty Master Chief to head the Navy overseeing the fleet,
And a Marine Gunny Sergeant should occupy every congressional seat!

A Staff Sergeant who's been in the trenches should be the Secretary of Defense.
Chief Master Sergeants qualify for the oval office (Obama, take no offense!)
Sergeants First Class would eminently qualify for the Secretary of Labor.
They'd put deadbeats to work so as not to mooch off their neighbor!

There's a horde of Navy Petty Officers who'd qualify for Treasury Secretary,
Who've faithfully paid their taxes unlike some Yale czars to the contrary!
There's a brigade of Sergeants Major who'd excel as the Secretary of State,
Who'd tell other nations where to go if they didn't deal with us straight!

Master and Technical Sergeants are well qualified to occupy a governor's chair.
Their prime concern is the welfare of folks, not just building castles in the air!
Retired Noncoms are a special breed who believe in and uphold the Constitution!
Patriots who'd oust the current clowns, some of whom qualify for a mental institution!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved

Novel Refuge

Locked in the pages of a book 
I find sanctuary, a quiet nook,
Where I often retreat and find
the kindest heart, the vilest mind.

Whenever I feel like getting away
From the rigors of life on any day,
I step through the portals of a book
into a fantasy world and take a look:

At the mythical realms of dragons
Fairies, nymphs, demons, gorgons,
At the dreams, adventures and magic 
of life and death purpose and logic;

Folktales of love, miracles, covenants
Of knights, heroes and revenants,
Of saints, seers, demigods and mystics,
Priests, pundits, mullahs and clerics.

A vast chronicle of betrayal of trust
of reverence, innocence and lust,
Of deceit, debauchery and debacles
of witches, vampires and oracles.

 Deeds of dictators, despots, czars
The chaotic world of wasteful wars,
swarming with malicious mobs,
fawners, snivelers and slimy slobs.

Be it poetry, mystery or tragedy
Racy romance, fantasy, comedy, 
Oh, just give me but a book any
I will forgo a damsel’s company.

In the Library contest by Isaiah Zerbst

Premium Member Summer Motion

Summer Motion beneath the stars 
Comes to our town on July Fourth
Rock music by forgotten music czars,
Summer Motion beneath the stars
The heavy twang of electric guitars,
Old hits and loud fireworks go forth
Summer Motion beneath the stars,
Comes to our town on July Fourth. 

Written July 9, 2022

To Achieve Another Milestone

History records the triumphs of the deserving heroes,not of tyrants,
on those eternal pages to remind Humankind of their sacrifice 
that were immensely cherished and safely  
sealed in its graceful memory;
let mine be regarded as such,
because my purpose is to expose greed and misery,
and all I ask of the dissident is to consider my plea:
to neither retaliate or harbor any bitterness for being so harsh,
while I am ready to achieve another milestone
marking this fateful day as my new dawn...



The fall of Socialism made way for Democracy,
the Berlin's was taken down away by hands seeking freedom,
where evil once had cultivated the idea of a supreme race; 
and while some empires fall, others rise even greater than the previous ones!
I have seen one fall in my turbulent life-time, an empire built by the Czars,
and who thought I'd have been so lucky to witness this from a free country:
in which to worship God is not prohibited by any means;
and I express myself knowing no measure in sending massages across
an universe which believes more in materialism,
and hates the idea of being spiritual and liberal, but chooses conservatism...   



Anyone can achieve another milestone 
and have his or her name engraved in stone,
marble and bronze statues of the famous are put on a pedestal:
I read their plaques and admire them all;
will mine stand on a similar altitude,
or unfairly deny me the crown of laurels, confining me to solitude?
If so, no storm would lap against me, and no sun would scorch me,
and the lamp-posts with the evasive moon wouldn't gaze down in sympathy;
but my uncertain joy can't prevent this event from occurring tomorrow,
and whatever the historians decide, many will read my obituary...
 

Copyright  2008 by Andrew Crisci

Freedom Lost

Freedom Lost

Sane men know what’s going down,
but no one dares to make a sound,
and those who think this will not last,
should listen, listen, to the past.
Hear the sound of breaking glass,
the Crystal Night when windows crashed,
when those who knew just looked away
and thought that things would be ok.
The day the yellow stars were pinned,
the night the cattle cars rolled in.
The camps were there but no one knew
what evil was about to do, when good men looked away.

Or turn your ear to the land of Czars,
to hear guns crashing ‘neath the stars,
and hear the words of little men
destroy so many lives again.
Words of hope and change and such,
that never do amount to much.
But people listened and they learned,
their world on hollow words had turned.
The hammer and the sickle joined,
but freedom from their hands purloined, while good men looked away.

The sounds are building all around,
The sounds of footsteps on the ground.
The sounds of windows crashing near,
fires burning, shouts of fear.
Mobs are passing by our door,
all sounds the world has heard before.
These sounds are hidden from the young.
Hidden by those with crooked tongue.
But those who know the truth are crying.
It is the sound of freedom dying, while good men look away.
© Hal Deats  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member MAY THE THIRD 2025

May Australia consider such better times.' When the drumbeat of politics is being played, right into your minds.'
When the radios are sqawking.' And beuracrats kiss
Babys.' Then get up; onto their stages to hiss.' Each at
The other though they all promote the same bizz?
Can you hear echos of the lash? The clink of old chain
Rings? After one hundred years hard and long there..
Was a time when we considerd, better things' those evil times so
Long gone.! Times of being 'locked in' of breaking the
Rocks,  to build our roads.' And all the other hardships 
'Some considered to be our lot' i am a child of the 60s and in
The 70s I knew.' A country that was looking forward'
Where each man and woman, earned what was their
Due.' Great botanical gardens, in which  to lunch at
Your ease.' 3Kz was rocking Melbourne taking a taxi
Was a breeze ' is silver top still the main firm?' Yet indeed
I digress.' I AM SHOUTING OUT FROM LONDON; U K.' you
Must get out of this mess.' For when your pubs were all
Shut down..And the Churches also too.' That was as was
In America.. Another dividing line from the very few.' also
What happenend to gun ownership? In the 90s I know'
I heard it from the U K.. Those radio stations sure did
Go.' Its more quiet on the 'jab injuries' ' well thats just a
Blip you know...? And all the freedoms taken.? it was 'one real. Real; bad
Trip' now find some time to get together' put away the stuff
Of it.' Like how much is my house worth? Look
At London.!! How is its health?? Now we can all see
The tentecles, of old europe trying to grow ' in evil stealth'
To a great entaglement..You have to get to work'  how? to
Just say no.!! Say it for our 'sister from Werribe' who
Set fire to her car.' Hounded by  (dan andrews) and all
Those little czars.' Say it for your dad; and mum now' for
Gran and grandad too.' Treat these pollo's worse  than you did
That 'voice call' In greatest love I cry out to you.!

Premium Member Merry Christmas

Make no mistake, in spite of 2020's terror, God's Mercy is being served on planet earth.*

Every morning, day after day, year after year, God's magnanimous mercies are endless.

Righteousness exalts nations, and its departure automatically engenders humiliation.

Rebellion is in the heart of man, and redemption lies at the core of the heart of God.

Yesterday, The Savior's birth; today, He lives; tomorrow, King of Kings-Lord of Lords returns.

Countries, emperors, kings, queens, presidents, premiers, dictators, Caesars, or czars.

History repeats itself because rulers seem unable to do things differently; God's way.

Reasons and rhymes, crimes and times keep turning like the globe of the world.

I do not anticipate nor expect lasting peace until the coming of The Prince Of Peace.

So it is written, so shall it be done; every knee shall bow to The Virgin born Christ Child.

The fulness of time is rapidly approaching, and  neither your vote nor mine will stop it.

Mortal men, the whole breed of Adam's seed, have constantly fought against God.

And we are getting closer to the end than we ever realized, when Christ will rule.

Saints and sinners, popes and potentates, elects and elites; all will submit to Christ.

112320PS
*I pray that we will let nothing, absolutely nothing, take 'The Merry' out of our '2020 Christmas'

Premium Member Daylight Freedom Quest

I slide and heave with gaunt brittle bones,
along this pitch fume-filled black tunnel , 
twisting, rolling, writhing  in  a sea of  tar,
vapours  hot and sticky taunt my nose,  
as thoughts of orange-red sunsets,
coral pink lagoons, dream scene blue, 
 moon shadow are my visual anchor,
catalyst to daylight freedom quest.
here  I am scrawny skeletal innocent,  
squeezed like toothpaste from a tube,  
into a world of pulsing urban metros,
Big Brother cameras snoop on  sight, 
prying eye, CCTV cadre choker.
wolves in human form fly a kite. 
venal dormant czars censor skylines, 
concrete jungle watchtowers scar heavens. 
has this earnest gumption-driven fugitive,
swopped one form of jailer for another

Posted : 6th March 2022

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