Best High And Mighty Poems
You were born in a specialist clinic
I was born at the front door of my house
we both came into this world and survived.
You’ve been eating foreign cuisines and expensive delicacies
I’ve been taking porridge and traditional soups
we both have grown and are a significant part of the society.
You go to school in Jeeps and exotic vehicles
I use public transport and finish it up with a walk
we both went to learning institutions and acquired knowledge.
You roll with the high and mighty and get a super model married
I’m surrounded by the middle class
and marries one never will be in Wikipedia
we both are active in the food chain and wonderfully living our lives.
You become a CEO or rather own a firm
I get employed by you to run your empire
we both sure need each other to function and drive.
Gold and Diamonds will decorate the casket of your funeral
mine may not even be worthy of a coffin, just a plain box
we’ll nevertheless be dead and our chapter closed without preference.
It is only a pathology when the eye gets larger than its socket,
comparison cuts the muscles of esteem and gives greed a new suit,
making simplicity a very complex attribute to attain
and a life full of complexities a better friend to existence.
Life is simple, we just make it complicated.
A civil servant wants to live at par with a tycoon
allowing his throat tie down the strength of his hands.
Every destination has different roads,
be it the highway or a rocky path.
Take the one within your speed limit,
the timing may show some reaching before or better than others
but the most important thing is, the destination reached
as achievement is decorated while life stay simple.
Categories:
high and mighty, career, character, cheer up,
Form:
Epic
When I gaze far off into the night sky
The chaos is not pleasing to the eye.
Seems there was never an overall plan
When the beginning of time began.
I don’t mean to sound so high and mighty
But the stuff up there’s not very tidy.
Yes, there are luminous constellations
But it needs cosmic configuration.
When figuring out just how to plan it
I started on the jumbled up planets.
It’s not a stretch to say they need sorting
And here are a few things I’m purporting.
First I thought they should be alphabetized
Or at least ordered according to size.
They could be arrayed by number of moons
But I think that’s getting too picayune.
Sure, there is a listing of other things
Like arranging them by their colored rings.
Or by what lie’s hidden beneath the dust
That entirely coats their outer crust.
I settled and placed them by dimension
As said plan will cause the least contention.
Starting with the sun, since that big old orb,
Can’t help but lead; being so self absorbed.
Petite planet Pluto, this time is first
Mercury’s next, then trodden Mars comes third.
After that Venus, followed by our Earth
Which were in that order, now they’re by girth.
Let’s jump up to Neptune, then Uranus
Which happens to rhyme with Ignoramus.
Yes fancy Saturn, you go next in line
Jupiter’s last, since so easy to find.
Let’s continue this celestial tale
By systematizing the scene, broad scale.
We’ll journey further than Venus and Mars
To coordinate the world of stars.
We can array each pulsar by brightness
Which doesn’t interest me the slightest.
Or chart them based on their distances from us
Though why on Earth quibble with all that fuss?
Instead we’ll do what the globe mappers did
And arrange every star on a grid,
We’ll plot a rough draft on large graph paper
Like olden times, by light of a taper.
Now, you can choose a square and stick by it.
Worry free of the old cosmic riot.
Where each and every star is viewed best
Whether gazing to north, south, east or west.
The sky is looking much better by now
And all the skeptics will have to avow.
That once you know how to rework matter
Like here on earth, it’s the size that matters.
Categories:
high and mighty, fantasy, space, old, star,
Form:
Iambic Pentameter
you may try to make us feel inferior
strutting around with head held high and mighty
i wonder
is it for our sake
or just to cover up thy own inadequacy
fumbling your way around the factory floor
the bosses son soon to elevate to greater roles
i remember you
on your first day the rawest of incumbents
silver spoon still protruding
from your mouth
i gave you the strength needed
taught you everything
now I sit across from you
your eyes never to meet mine
no apology
when handing
the redundancy paper that says goodbye.
© Harry J Horsman 2021
Categories:
high and mighty, rude, sad,
Form:
Suzette Prime
A gardener was gifted a seedling.
Before planting its teeny weeny stem,
he gently prepared the earth,
carefully, vigilantly, so it was soft,
but tough enough to hold its roots.
Everyday, affectionately
he would provide it with water,
especially when the sunlight was too strong.
At times he would place an umbrella
over the top, so the stalk would not become dry.
When the winds would blow with force and
the sapling would shiver and shake,
the gardener would place a solid support against
its trunk, so it could lean on it during the storms
and when the puddles were too deep,
the gardener would wipe them away
and make sure it wasn't affected by the moisture.
Slowly, as the gardener nourished
the young tree, its roots spread
deeper into the ground and gradually
it began to reach out its elegant branches.
Before long, verdant leaves spread, all glossy
with their satin sheen sparkling in the sun.
When callous, colder days arrived
and leaves began to wither, like sorrows
the gardener would treat the bark and
cleanse away the moss,
so no beetles would ruin its skin.
When snow angels fell from the sky,
he would remove all the snow
and build snowmen around its base,
so the tree would be jolly on bitter nights.
As it grew all high and mighty,
its curly brown branches became home
to baby birds and hibernating squirrels hiding their nuts.
With sincere vigour the tree would protect them
from predators... Now the tree was big and strong,
so the gardener would sit underneath resting
from tiring days sheltering from the rain.
After a while the gardener never returned,
but the tree kept flourishing,
because it had unyielding foundations
to battle the elements.
Categories:
high and mighty, analogy, birthday, father daughter,
Form:
Prose
Zuzuangel, dances the dazzling streets of Rio.
Her red hair, shines in the moonlight.
Attracting only the finest to her.
She wears studded gold sandals, those sexy feet,
cannot stop dancin to the Jobim, Bossa Nova Beat.
The outside cafes, the weather divine,
This is Zuzu’s time to be out and about, plus to
radiantly shine.
Her inner-soul, you see, has a rain-bowed, inviting
glow.
Wherein the river of her inner poetry does both rise
and flow.
That inner peace, is her fortress, where she truly
cannot be touched.
And any fool, who intimidates her-will be at once,
directly be rebuffed!
It does no good to intimidate, crush or
gang up on any poet’s soul.
The fate for any who so so?
When you harm any of God’s children,
in a monsoon of your own arrogance
you are eternally lost and tossed.
Your vanity, will kill you so high and mighty
you are.
Forgetting each poet is part of
God’s creative star!
11/18/2021
Pangie still in Trauma Center.
Learning to walk and stand.
Sorry, I am constantly around.
Commenting time is at
a minimimum..
Categories:
high and mighty, beauty, betrayal, community, friendship,
Form:
Rhyme
You may be sitting high and mighty now my friend
but you will not always be
for your unearned happiness will one day end
should you live long enough, you'll definitely see.
Your only interests in life is having fun
you're the life of the party, or so it seems
but you must one day pay for the wrong that you've done
and explain why you've killed so many dreams.
You fail to remember all of the hearts that you've broken
as well as all of the mean things that you've said
you never apologize for any of your lies
you just pretend that it never happened instead.
Your friends think you're the best, maybe even a star
while inside, you're dirty and rotten
you may choose to forget who you really are
but believe me, God has not forgotten.
You've lied and cheated to get your way
you've stepped on many to get to the top
you'll suffer for these decisions that you've made, one day
and then that ball that you're having will drop.
I am not wishing anything bad on you
believe me, I wish you the best
however, there are consequences for all that you do
and you are swinging at a hornet's nest.
You think that you already know everything
yet there is one thing that you haven't yet learned
you see, I happen to know, that we reap what we sew
and you will too, once the tables have turned.
by
Benjamin Macieo Davis
ThePrinceofPoetry
Categories:
high and mighty, education, irony, vanity,
Form:
Rhyme
I do so love harvest thanksgiving,
That time of year which celebrates agriculture,
When church flips from being god-centred,
To remembering farmers and good food manufacture.
It’s not an Armenian or Amish allusion,
‘Cos tins are given no problem;
Natural remedies aren’t primed as better,
Than medicines, to the mind and body superior.
As a child who regretfully attended church,
I thought on that day of poverty and Christian giving:
That their offer was kind of a respectable food bank,
A silent redistribution of wealth, income and living.
No food bank is respectable, of course,
But they can channel wealth efficiently and appropriately;
And that the Church offers such for just one day,
Should be celebrated as a positive sign most definitely.
God is sometimes just such an abstraction,
Academically, he’s for the objective mind;
He’s not comforting when your needs are just so real:
Physical, emotional, psychological: he can be so unkind.
When you just need a meal on the table,
And need it supplied by someone else,
Whether by government, food bank or church,
It’s a person that's there, not divine impulse.
I thought it was moral to impose that on believers,
As a kid who just so wanted to talk and shoot,
About real mechanisms, real structures and methods,
Which made life’s systems, dynamics, art and roots.
Being grateful for food, diet and health,
Eclipses salvation humility and responce;
Eternal purpose lays as distant and non-tangible,
To people and belongings which have an unimpeachable force.
Farmers need to be remembered, given relevance,
For their labour, dedication and sheer love of the job;
It’s that occupation and training which ensures,
Our basic daily needs are met not just with contours.
The harvest basket every year means to me hope,
Nourishment for those who starve and scrape;
Church wealth rides so high and mighty on average,
That this real examination is something to advocate.
Categories:
high and mighty, celebration, child, childhood, creation,
Form:
Rhyme
My life has been one enormous charade,
A make believe game,
A play I have played,
A story I tell myself, day and night,
Hidden from myself, out of sight,
A game of hide and seek,
While searching for something else to eat.
The game,
A cosmic game,
A comic game,
A bad joke,
A puff of smoke,
A laugh,
A bath,
A lonely path,
The Game.
I used to take it so seriously,
Think it, feel it so real, so perfectly,
So certain I that was right,
That I lived in the light,
So convinced that I knew the rules,
So obvious I had all the tools,
That I saw the truth,
That I saw the light,
Would win the battle, win the fight.
Heard the sound of the distant drum,
Calling me to battle with the devious one.
The walls of my ego were high and mighty,
My dreams and delusions danced in front of me,
Their smooth dark surface impossible to climb,
Images I swallowed and thought were mine.
I made them alive, moving and real,
Twist and turn like a slimy eel,
Just to tell myself that I was still someone,
Playing in the game and having lots of fun,
Just to tell me and to tell you,
That I wasn't a loser,
So I wouldn’t hear the words game over.
Game over,
Check and mate,
Here's the gate,
You have to take,
Out of the Game,
The game of shame.
The game of avoiding being blue,
Of dogging the bullets they shot at you,
The atomic bomb they drop on your head,
The monsters that they put under your bed.
The game of hiding away,
Live to play another day,
Even if it's only make believe,
The prizes in plastic,
And not worth a dime,
At least I have the impression that they are mine,
At least I don't fell the pain,
The pain of shame,
In this perverted game.
So that I don't feel I'm a prisoner,
Tied to this post,
Don't even realise that I'm only a ghost,
That the truth is well hidden,
On the board of the game.
That the prizes are in plastic,
But they are shiny and new,
The paint hardly chipped,
The emptiness hardly shows through,
The laughing is loud,
The smiles are all warm and friendly,
And we are all together,
Joyful and happy.
The illusion is REAL,
And only the mad man knows,
That it's a rotten deal.
more of my poems at http://labyrinthoflies.com
Categories:
high and mighty, allegory, analogy, confusion, depression,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
Men march forth
Like fodder falling in shallow graves
No one wins a war
No one counts graves
Lift your sword high and mighty
If you are not the undergrowth of the lost
Your victory is to return home
Your Duty however has drastically changed
Teach us, both young and old
Both rich and poor
The value of those lost souls
Buried in shallow graves
Inspired by a friend and his grandmother on Memorial Day
I hope the Grandmother gets to read this and see how small deeds make us all remember!
Thank you
Categories:
high and mighty, memorial day, remember, veterans
Form:
Light Verse
The light!
it outshines, dominates and cannot be captured,
is the definition of its glory and pride.
But a substance,
as little and unseen as it is,
captures the light, processes and even converts,
so is my victory and testament.
The Chloroplast!
Aiming at a shot, but had a blast
despite the hibernation
my doings shout and boast
as influence and praise stretch my coast.
From east to west
spreading so fast
like the yeast on an old baked dough.
My methods cast upon the waters
as they stay afloat and pass the test,
this marvels my competitors
and keeps them alarmed.
The past,
having its proclamation of me,
"less than a commoner
and worse than an outcast".
The present protests
while the future screams "AVAST!"
my new empire,
filled with pasteurized milk
produced from healthy breasts
and sweet scenting red meat
well spiced, salted and roasted
sums up the efficiency of my hands
which have defeated lack
until Ice heavys water.
At last!
In the Island of abundant grapes
having supplies of fresh and viscous Honey
with vast avenue for pleasures.
I stand the greatest.
And as mighty and untouchable as I seem.
I still dwell like the chloroplast.
Categories:
high and mighty, character, pride,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Words
Words, this life, knows no stronger force
These fragments with such ease we wield
Even love, they will steer off its course
And fell the high and mighty in the field
Unthinking we may use one by mistake
Throw out the smallest humble negative
Not realising how that one may grate
And find a heart unwilling to forgive
At times we twist them to our greatest gain
How simple is the art; Manipulate
With disregard for whom they may cause pain
With no concern for chaos they create
A means that has no other parallel
To take us to the plain of joy
Or plunge us into blackest hell
Unequalled is their power to destroy
We use them each, to communicate
To both confound and un-confuse
On their answers, we must ever wait
Whilst in reply, decide, which ones to choose
And on that throw of dice, win or lose
R D Seal 13 April 2013
Categories:
high and mighty, on writing and words,
Form:
Quatrain
Just like the days of the old Pharisees,
they who accused Jesus of heresies;
She points with self-righteous indignation,
yet herself, is the naked temptation.
Miss High and Mighty, thinks she’s always right,
makes computations with limited light.
Monochromatic malicious mindset,
jealous of someone, she aims to upset.
You poke and pry, think I’d quietly die,
go stick with your tribe but don’t multiply.
I have been patient, been lax but not blind;
I'm rarely this mad, enough with your kind.
Think twice before you start breaking my bone;
“Let him who is blameless, cast the first stone.”
28 October 2015
Mad as a Hornet Contest
Sponsor: John Lawless
Categories:
high and mighty, anger, anti bullying, emotions,
Form:
Sonnet
End of life
When will it be?
What is life?
Who can tell me?
Surely the church would know
In its high and mighty stature
Towering above the city in splendor
Sharing its love for those in need
Keeping its knowledge from those who read
Forgetting the poor if need be
Remembering the rich for its own greed
Who can explain the unending need of man for God?
Spirit will soar above the spires of men
Destined for who knows where or when
Can man remain upon the Earth
when fire and flood will someday come
We are but seconds in the days of life
Destined to die in mortal strife
God in his wisdom high above
Looks down on us with his perfect love
Categories:
high and mighty, death, earth, faith, gothic,
Form:
Rhyme
The course was very narrow,
the trail, straight and long -
I moseyed on that perfect path
where I could do no wrong.
I kicked my big, white stallion,
up rocky slopes one day -
and when I made this clearing,
I knew I'd found the way.
And while I sat there on my faith,
atop the highest hill -
and as I peered on valley low,
I judged folks all until -
I found great fault in everyone
no matter, great or small -
so I could sit up highest on
my saddle, straight and tall.
I prayed; "Oh, those pathetic souls
are hardly good for thee -
for never are they good enough,
unless they're just like me.
Just look at their bad habits,
just look at all their stuff,
and why don't they attend my church?
They are not good enough!
They sin in many different ways,
they fall in numbers too.
They just don't understand that they -
are not like me and You."
Now after seeing others
had wandered way off course -
t'was then that I was bucked right off
my high and mighty horse.
©2010 louis gander / www.ganderpoems.org
Categories:
high and mighty, god, horse, humorous, judgement,
Form:
Quatrain
Farewell 2014, God Bless You
Good years pass in a wink
The cup is broken before you finish a drink
The bad ones each day, a hell, an inferno
Sheepishly creeping in, you made tall promises
Peace, tranquility, harmony
End of conflict, strife and poverty,
Rule of Law, good governance, redeeming of grievances
Your promises fell by the way side
The high and mighty you served like your predecessors
You reincarnated Hitler, Mussolini and Caesars
Humbleness vanished, ruled arrogance and pride
To Syria and Iraq you gifted ISIS
In Afghanistan and Pakistan you created crisis
The cruel hands of Satan like Taliban were let loose
For the afflicted, anguish and pain you choose
You were a silent spectator to Israel’s atrocities
Like Nero you fiddled when Gaza burnt
The cries and wailings of Palestinian women and children
Fell on deaf ears; didn't melt your hardened heart
You unleashed sufferings to Muslims in Myanmar
You saw the massacre of school children in Peshawar
The sit in observed by the leader Imran Khan
Against the corrupt rulers in Pakistan
Which good deed you boast about
It is best for you now quietly to slip out
And allow me to welcome two thousand and fifteen
See the seed of New Year’s dawn sprout
With radiant shine and glow of hope on its face
The New Year may as well enter the race
May through Almighty’s sublime grace
The conflicts and sufferings to leave no trace
Exit 2014 and enter two thousand fifteen
May tomorrow promise a life tranquil and serene!
Sintra, Portugal -December 31, 2014 -23:54 hours
Categories:
high and mighty, conflict, corruption, goodbye, history,
Form:
Rhyme