Best Lording Poems
. for public domain
Where we hung our overcoats I don't remember,
or at what time winter snow fell late December,
I barely recall the living room
with the television or radio on,
snuggled in a chair, wanting weather of September.
The living room, our family's sanctuary,
where we prayed for a quickly passing January,
we held our tongues from bitter comments,
mostly, but one slipped out on occasion,
which made for an unpleasant colder February.
Spring and Summer came with outdoor body odor,
showers and sweat all through the harvest of October.
Comments on sore bones and blisters,
exchanged among my mother and sisters,
kept the conversation lively through November.
Our parents have long passed on, as we have passed on,
alone, or enduring lives we have created,
lording over our own living rooms,
to keep them from becoming tombs
of the silence that awaits us at the end.
3/25/19
"One More Thing"
This morning
Clouds forming
Soon to be storming
Most ignoring
The warning
Continually warring
Waters forking
Rapids roaring
Avians soaring
As events continue coursing
Heard enough recordings
That were reporting
About global warming
Whether it's sunny or pouring
Cold or scorching
Dogs and cats arrive for boarding
In a building with tile flooring
Bottles uncorking
This life isn't boring
It's rewarding
This world, we're still exploring
Organisms morphing
Meanwhile plants absorbing
The sunlight, that's supporting
All life, according
To people and other sourcing's
Barely affording
Folks snoring
Out of the loop, close and far from any cording
Drugs and people used for transporting
Still gorging
Battling addictions regarding snorting
Far too many hoarding
And overstoring
Thinking they're scoring
Any bull, I'm thwarting
The honest and hard working, I'm supporting
You better stop lording
Before the public starts swarming
About to leave this world, after one more thing
A dream, bad from every nook
In front of my eyes, so painful.
Eyes of mine being tearful
And petrified of the remembrance, I looked.
Deep down somewhere inside the heart
Lies a monotonous melancholy,
Lording slowly, speaking distinctly
Of the ones, moving willingly or unwillingly, apart.
The awful reverberation of the pains,
The anomalous silence of the lips
Makes no good to the victims’ deeps
But to menace the already-made stains.
Love and affection, nothing but an illusion,
Drive the youths, sometimes, into a circle so vicious
Making them, gradually, sub-conscious
Of the foredooming situation.
The hazardous ambiance of betrayal,
So treacherous, so obnoxious
Makes us so ferocious
To trust in one being more than loyal.
Women and even small girls
Practicing and participating in prostitution
Though a taboo to the sophisticated civilization,
For a mouthful forget their morals.
Jobless the students are, so hopeless
Leave no reason for education.
Depressed to the manhole of frustration
Question their independence.
The merciless slaughtering of people
And of the innocent newborns, so cruel
The carnivorous minds inside, that dwell
Are they better than animal?
The miring sins, all around
A sinister awaits the weak,
Till this insatiable appetite of Politics
Forever will be sound.
For us, the same
Day or Night, it is.
Our conscience to protest it is
Upon which, hovers the clouds of shame.
Forcing us to do what we should not
In the name of God, either,
Or by reasons of fear,
Hurts our life and existence, a lot.
To the bloodthirsty vampires,
Stop these barbaric games
Of pretending to hold your false fame
Leading to your catastrophic massacre.
For a year or two, if these pursue, I fear,
Ruthlessly skinning and ripping the society
For the highest worldly possession, money
End of the world is not too far, my dears.
Her song was too beautiful for ordinary words
Ending it on a sweet note that no heart ever forgot
Remembering her for offering a priceless gift
Seems right to praise her for a big heart without greed
Pop music and opera were the two things she loved
Immense was forgiveness when wrong made her sad
Regret for not having loved enough was a silly guilt
Incredible was her enthusiasm towards all children
Total discipline she demanded like soldiers in combat
All but pain mom withheld from me, trust was the essence
Lording over others with equality was pure nobility
Illness invaded her body, but she battled it with fortitude
Vigilance averted danger in foreseen things others ignored
Extraordinary was the faith she was placed in me learning values
Another mom couldn't have been be more thoughtful that she was
"Nonna" the grandchildren called her when they came to visit
Dear were those happy angels she proudly hugged and kissed
Seeing her fragility towards the end, one thought of her death
Though she suffered, she wished to share a delightful thought
Innovating was her style of looking at elegant things
Love secured by confidence, was an embrace of joy
Limpid eyes as skies gazed over to impart comfort
" Live with honesty " was a motto that identified her integrity
Indeed her words were full of fairness and humanity
Vengeance never shone on that face of endless humility
Endurance was learned by kindness, not by rage
Spiritual advice was a spring of lasting knowledge
Copyright 2015 ( c ) by Andrew Crisci
Tryouts starring musical prodigies
and/or an attendant conductor
attempt to approach ambient chorus
divinely exhibited from Gaia's handiwork
heavenly invoking kapellmeister's magnificent nonchalant outlook
piquantly, quintessentially, repertoire sensately striking
unmatched vast wisdom yielding, zephyr air albeit creativity
engineered from groundswell harmony
juxtaposed, kindled, linkedin,
manifesting noteworthy opulent philharmonic recording
transcribing universal veritable webbed wide world.
Wunderkinds yield Ziggurat acme approximated asymptote
bequeathing celestial Doppelganger Earthly emulations
formulating fractal glinting highlighting
ineffable joie de vivre jostling, keen kindling,
la la land legerdemain lifting logic
lording Ludwig (Josef Johann) Wittgenstein.
?
Yelping zoological apostle Al affidavit Gore handily
heaping hubristically invocation jolting kickstart measures
nipping nixed noblesse oblige opera
quickening quotidian rapid ruination sans supreme
teetering upended venerated wise with acumen
arithmetical Benoit Mandelbrot
chasing far-fetched ideas
lightyears menacing nihilism purging ogres opportunistically
resplendently ripping revered tankard tipping unstoppably
vanquishing varietal whipsawing wonderful wrapt yawning youngsters
warfare written wrought yanking zestfully crushing environmental family
granting Herculean instant karma
malevolent, opprobrious pronouncement
quiet riot silencing severely tragic ubiquitous vicious wreckage
yikyaks apemen cleft Earth.
*************************************************
Future foragers denounce capitalistic bamboozlers aggression
zealots wrought trashing quintessential naked kingdoms issue
flotsam coagulates zonal wastelands torquing quality NON
killing habitats Earth bleached yellowed voodoo ruins.
From a wind-swept window looking out
upon raindrops falling on soggy ground,
alone she stands remembering a life
filled with happy memories.
How did it come to this, she asks herself,
why a love that should have lasted years
could abruptly end in the wink of an eye
like a bad dream.
Harsh words hurled and no one giving in,
pride lording over what remains of a home
that for long they tried so hard building,
sorry the hardest word to say.
Fool, fool, she curses like new-found mantra
to somehow ease the vise tightly gripping
her presently numbed, shell-shocked brain
and deaden the pain.
Now with solitude as her only company
while silence screams with the noise
announcing the finality of her misery,
she laughs yet again.
As the hard rain continues to pour down
so are the tears of regrets and bitterness,
too late wondering what would have been
had she not driven him away.
Sunrise does he who formed the eye not see past the dawn
rising from the place of it's setting weakness of will
turning the potters clay upside down
hiding their deep council from the Lord
Where they whom do works in the dark
in these secret societies look for praise
and they had a king over them
who is the angel of the bottomless pit
Whose name in the Hebrew tongue is Abaddon
but in Greek he is called Apollyon
all the earth was in admiration after the beast
when he announced himself as God lording over us
where the blind will follow this dragon to hell
as they the lost sacrifice their children to him
Why can't the world be like it was when I was young
No one cleaning up dog-due dung
Kids dying right and left of polio and measles
Mumps running rampant like scorpions and beetles
Fathers employing razor belts
on recalcitrant sons and leaving welts
Mothers teaching daughters to clean and cook
poor-mouthing math and science textbooks
White folks lording it over illiterate Knee grows
Butchering Espanol -- and a few unlucky amigos
It was all so much simpler way back then
Cowboys shot Indians on the count of ten
So, why can't the world be like it was when I was young
Well, hey, I guess it is ~ English still ain't America's mother tongue...
life is like a game of chess check each move you make
your opponent can be the devil incarnate
with an angel close by, helping and guiding you
your moves in life, you decide what you have to do
can be the king, lording it over just a few
or a lowly pawn, usually losing out
why not be the Queen, loved and defended without doubt
looked to and admired with so many friends about
a knight in white armour willing to live lifes dance
your moves are watched by all nothing is left to chance
your hopes of happiness and a loving romance
don't run with the devil by committing a sin
the tower of love you cradle your hopes within
cracks and fades as living life kicks you on the chin
nothing is perfect in the board game of life's chess
the monopoly game is more fitting I guess
freedom, move about, buy houses, travel, sounds best
remember the fate of lifes gaol waits, if you fail
nothing is perfect in the board game of life's chess
a knight in white armour willing to live lifes dance
or a lowly pawn, usually losing out
with an angel close by helping and guiding you
don't run with the devil by committing a sin
remember the fate of lifes gaol waits... if you fail.
In the body of the poem, there is a traditional couplet, followed by an un-rhyming line. It gives the appearance of a tercet, but... that third line sets the rhyme for the following couple.
Penned July 3. 2016
Could you also in shame bow
Like smothered cocoyam leaves
In all your elegance of prided shame?
You hid behind amber's of burning coal
Lording your weakness on cowards of sky
You crown yourself with sparkling rays
A kings regalia over your slumped orphaned shoulders
With a tortoise craftiness you awoke
As others fell fast asleep to occupy
The seat of kings as a king over kings
But your elegance was veiled in blackness
Your wickedness covered with darkness
As you resign in shame of your cunning at last
Sorry comrade, the rich also cry.
Our Own Heroes
**********
"We,
Birthed by parents;
Without prior planning
For a proper alignment
of their kids destiny,
yet,
Here we are,
Our own very selves,
Our own heroes!"
We Are,
Our Own Heroes
We've come this far;
gods in human form.
We've visited the very eye of the storm of life;
Waded through the jungle of life's harsh reality...
Bathed in its gore and ruthlessness.
We've seen it all;
Yet still standing,
lording over our eventful conquest in our own little way...savouring the pleasure of a victory earned through combat...a combat of will.
Though, without a grand ceremony to honor our presence among mortals;
Yet, we will lay claim to our divine trumpets,
We will horn our praise till the rest of the celestials join in our unsavoury dance...
The dance of the Immortals.
With it, we will build an atmosphere of gaiety and galore... an atmosphere of a distinct piety.
Then, we shall boldly say, facing the mortal world:
We Are Our Own Heroes!
Peter Ekhator Godwin Iyendoe (pegi)
ghops
Copyright © Speare Earth Poetry | Year Posted 2019
What are the measures of success?
What makes one stand on high?
Is it money in excess
With the power that money can buy?
Is it the social standing
Of being known by one and all?
Is it your power of commanding?
Or lording it over one and all?
Is it getting a promotion?
Or having the means to promote?
Or oratorically create a commotion?
Or having time to spirituality to devote?
Is it freedom to indulge in frank-speak
And ne'er be cowed down by others?
Is it the time when you stop to seek
And become a keeper of thy brother?
None of the above is a reality
It’s all a great big sham!
Peace unto oneself speaks of quality,
A realization of I am what I am!
My hands will glow,
rising higher, ebbing
and flowing
with the gold-glass sea.
Herald of angels in our midst
as we kiss the feet of Christ.
For the earth is His hassock.
My soles will rejoice
as they crush
sweet-scented petals.
Invisible to the naked
eye. Good news spreads fast.
A whirlwind of death to life.
My arms will reach
the pinnacles of
pearly gates. There’s healing
in each touch, a cure
to empathize with hurts,
not lording over, but
holding on, catching
each tear.
There is profundity
in togetherness,
in what we share.
Strength of mine
delivered to the weak
and the next time
I am the weak.
Weepy and willowy
purple and greening…
Green and purpling vines,
Landowners between the lines.
Beyond the willowing pines,
Spring’s surplusity sublime.
Weepy and willowy
purple and greening…
Conifers a leap, in front of creek,
reminiscent-flooding was not meek.
Caught in my wide eye that week —
the bubbling serendipitous freak.
Weepy and willowy
purple and greening…
Wraparound fence a lá wisteria blooms.
Honey and carpenter bees, hornets zoom,
‘round about its heady-cocktail’d perfume.
All aboard the buzz of springtide costume.
Weepy and willowy
purple and greening
Spring is a-leaping and lording
raising a poet’s pulse, an unpreventable affording
of contentment—
sickness of singing feathers, courting
unforgettable fetters
of magical colors, supporting
one’s cause for rhyming
hypnotic, its timing…
3/31/2021
Oh! ye noble men of courage, another Hero is born.
Meet the man who demystify the terrors of our oppressors,
Out on thee oh cowards, Up and braze up for the the imminent freedom.
Your Fears are foolish, let them dazzle a thousand guns, they are mortals and
they fear our rage.
Enlist in the voyage for liberation, we cannot all be cowered.
Liberty is the cry of the oppressed, and Freedom is never given, it is taken
Emancipate yourself from the claws of these terrible corrupt impostors,
See the light of development sweeping the continents, advancement and
technological leap everywhere
Our lots has been a cynosure of bandits, overtaken by fraud and moral turpitude
Who will lead this banner to rescue us from the nebulous shame?
Over us they bellow, Lording it, they Rule.
Revolution is the Fear of the Oppressor, until the masses wake up from their
slumber.
End the reign of the bandits, masquerading as Leaders