Best Napoleonic Poems
you want to know a secret
when I write a poem and it's perfect
i dont share it
i bury it
deep inside of me
where no one else can see
i mean its perfect
not like this shift
it's elegant, poignant,
simplistic, bueatful
trucking perfect
its not erotic
but i read it
mentally masterbate to it
a euphoric chorus
straight form thesaurus
its just that great
im not being egotistical
if read, it would become universal
a meter tethered in clasical measure
a rythmic flow
with many metaphoric undertows
an iconic harmonic tonic
to make you feel like an embryonic hedonic youth
im not being napoleonic
its an actual truth
factually accurate
high in heaven
it produced a tear in the eye of god
who proclaimed
not a single flaw
not a single flaw
and he only saw what i wrote
well, because hes god
me being me i like to tease
allow me to be inclined to share a few lines
blow your mind
redefine your collective defective perspective
realign your ineffective respective connective tisue
"all my cows milk is homogenized
all my crows are well organized
all my sheep like to stare and creep
like to stare and creep"
but you'll never see
the rest of my secret poetry
that only exsist inside of me
cows will always moo
crows will always ka kah
sheep will always go baah baah baah
and the perfect elagance
of my literary inteligence
will die with me
never being seen
qouted, memorised or plagerized
as i will say with my last gasp
the next line being twice my last
all you super-duper-soupers can kiss my ***
ok all you super-duper-soupers have been slammed. if you want to slam me back just a few things. make it funny. make it a little nonsensical and definitly make it over the top
and if you do slam me back send me a soup mail or leave a comment so i can go read your slam.
Take Out the Landry
Dirty laundry for years on the floor
finally the dirt is out the door
Quebec is cleaning house
separatists being laid to graves
like Napoleonic mouse's
bury their rhetoric too
twelve feet deep
Wrinkled ex leader with
no musket or balls
no lead, leaderless
man of poisoned dreams
nationalist and king of hate
trumpets play for his distaste
if your wool is not pure
you do not belong on his shore
Villain as Lucifer or Lucien
robbing the people of their future
all for his midget delusions
now to be inhumed
in his own dirt
he will of course blame
the Chinese laundry mat
who lost his ticket
He is not to be interred
in red rags
honor will shed not one tear
where is his Nazi flag?
Boxed at Notre Dame
the church like Vichy
honors dictators and their clan
funerals they all say nice things
still
they toss out the laundry
as Canada sings
Only Toronto thanks him
for the prosperity
you like history here you go, a list of their history in short
740. BC The Assyrians cursed them.
579. BC The Babylonians fell asleep and remained for about 60 years.
70. The Romans suppressed their rebellion and destroyed their temple.
135. The Romans suppressed their rebellion and expelled them once and for
all.
626. The start of their expulsion from the Arabian Peninsula.
1080. Expulsion from France.
1098. Expulsion from Czech Republic.
1113. Expulsion from Kievan Rus (Vladimir Monomakh).
Since.. Hoarseness of them in Kiev in 1113.
1147. Expulsion from France (second time)
Expulsion from Italy.
1188. Expulsion from England.
1198. Expulsion from England (Second Time).
1290. Expulsion from England (Third Time).
1298. Expulsion from Switzerland (extermination of 100 of them by hanging).
1306. Expulsion from France (third time, hot. s 3000 of them alive)
Expulsion from Hungary 1360.
1391. Expulsion from Spain.
1394. Expulsion from France (Fourth Time).
1407. Expulsion from Poland.
1492. Expulsion from Spain (second time and passage of a law banning them
from entering the country forever).
1492. Expulsion from Sicily.
Expulsion from Lithuania and Kiev.
Expulsion from Portugal.
1510. Expulsion from England (Fourth Time).
Expulsion from Portugal (second time).
1516. A law in Sicily allows them to live in their own neighborhoods only.
1541. Expulsion from Austria.
Expulsion from Portugal (third time).
A law in Rome allows them to live in ghettos only.
Expulsion from Italy.
Expulsion from Germany (Brandenburg).
Expulsion from Novgorod (Ivan the Terrible).
1592. Expulsion from France (Fifth Time).
Expulsion from Switzerland (second time).
Expulsion from Spain and Portugal (Philip IV) (Fourth time).
1660 . Expulsion from Kiev (second time).
1701. Complete expulsion from Switzerland (decree of Philip V).(Third time).
1806. Napoleonic Alert. Padarja.
1828. Expulsion from Kiev (third time).
1933. Expulsion from Germany.
Monkey Hangers
(A little historical factoid from your Uncle Mike)
According to local folklore
In England, there at Hartlepool
A monkey was hanged from a yardarm
A monkey that wasn’t a ghoul
It happened way back in a war time
Napoleonic to be exact
A French ship was wrecked of the coast there
That much we can say is a fact
The only survivor a monkey
Wearing a French uniform
It probably was just for amusement
And probably was not the norm
The locals had feared an invasion
This “sailor” they thought was a spy
Dressed in the garb of a Frenchman
The locals did not question why
On finding the “sailor”, some locals
Decided an impromptu trial
Was need to handle the prisoner
Right there on the beach on that isle
Most locals had never seen Frenchmen
They figured the monkey was one
When he wouldn’t answer their questions
The fate of the monkey was done
This “sailor” (the monkey), found guilty
Was sentenced to death on the spot
From the vertical part of the ship mast
This monkey was hung there to rot
They say on this beach there in Hartlepool
The mast of that ship guards the beach
And when the wind howls on the coastline
It sounds like a dead monkey’s screech
“Monkey Hanger”, a term Hartlepoolieans
Are called due to this local folklore
Having never been there or seen it
I guess I can’t add anymore.
Drinking this bubonic tonic
with sonic running through my veins,
making these feelings seem platonic
and the world a bit brighter and better
with these quadraphonic sounds
and with these hydroponic pounds
of this atomic chronic
i'm not so shallow and bitter.
every sound electronic,
and made monophonic,
the dances moves suffer,
all anamatronic
until that iconic bass drop
starts attacking tectonics
with so much Napoleonic rage,
it moves these symphonics
to super, hyper, ultrasonic.
johnny mnuemonic's
not just hooked on phonics anymore,
but instead he's a supersonic supernova
among the stars a Casanova
exploding with the
sounds of natures conics
that would make Pythagoras proud,
the demonic harmonics echo behind him
like a shadow fading as the sun goes down.
Limerick : Once this Wily Woman from Franco’s Spain – 2
Once this Wily Woman from Franco’s Spain
Found refuge in Napoleonic Domain
Antics at home found out
In new home given clout
All criminal codes waived to let her reign !
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
Have a Sardine? :
Oh how I love to eat sardines?
Just the thought makes my face turn puce!
Gas in my tummy, they induce.
They don't go that well with baked beans.
Sandwiches made with these morsels.
Can only eat two at a time;
taken with a bit of fresh lime.
Some people eat them with mussels.
The thought of these will make some puke!
Keep it away, he will rebuke!
The smell enough to make him sneeze,
the sight of which will make him wheeze!
Put one in the microwave and nuke.
He said: "Oh my God, this is Yuke."
Steven Beesley (c) 2005-10-03
Sardine:
A sonnet that uses the redondilla form as a base. Each line has 8 syllables and the rhyme scheme may be abba cddc eeff ee or abba abba ccdd cc. It is also known as the Redondilla sonnet, the Napoleonic sonnet, or the Sonondilla.
Power points of dimensional spinning graphs are largely placed in cement viewfinders in aerated office space with dome foam chairs. Dome foam chairs are the salt of seats and seating is considered important for lengthy discussion tables whose droning voices appear to form no conclusion yet get salaried by the milliseconds. Thousands and thousands of bold shining gold bullion bars mean thousands of printed bull speeches. But leeches sit on beaches and sip nectar out if the environment they consider their haven. It is never really demystified, added up, or fractioned the carious deeds instead they are multiplications that divide and fracture causing much disharmony in a mustard coloured cereal bowl with many crunching sounds. Cresphontes calls crethus and cynortas then danaus appears in a silvery crown on a semi misted horse. For to be a simpleton at that time was to sport a dimple on ones forehead and bow easterly but only when a westerly breeze was chatting to northern flames. The burst of southerly inclines meant the little trotting army could approach from every angle and therefore a fisherman or shepherd could be made very alarmed and run around flailing arms in the air shouting aloooooo alllooooo alllooooo but no apologies were made to these innocent harmonic workers of the lands. Blup blup fishermen and Barr baaa basalt shepherds left their careers and began work on the structures that would stand to signal power. Processing plants of today are akin to planktonic paintings upon the grounds and are an eyesore to behold. Many an eyesore is many an era in waste. Napoleonic Neptune numbers nurturing ninety nice nimble nymphs nautically. Beam then. Go on beam. Great big grin. Split level chin wobble. Fantastic isn't it? Z autobiographical Z at seven jumping tennis balls in a stew pan to thirteen moons on motorbikes. Z xxxx z
Form:
America, fought by our brave fallen few,
Our men and women who honored our flag,
Our nation freedoms grow strong,
Our government is thought to be a democracy, gangocracy or mobocracy,
Our impetus, the Napoleonic Wars when Latin America became republics,
Our consequence is a country that has a fair representation of its people,
Our forefathers who created, the US Constitution and defined quite clear,
Our nation is a Republic, one under God,
Our laws make us great as if written by pencil where we can erase,
Our wrongs can be amended,
Our rights will protect us,
America is truly blessed.
2020 January 02 *2nd Place*
Whitman-Inspired Uplifting Poetry, old or new Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Carolyn Devonshire
Hey, little man ...
yeah, you with the big head
Napoleonic complexion
got your face turning so red
People say you got a big mouth,
that you talk a real giant-size game
But my homies say, you’re a shrimp baller,
whose short of stature with a light frame
And if things don’t bounce your way,
you just simply squawk and squeal
Little piggies tend to oink a lot,
when bacon is gonna be the next meal
Big Mac
Big Wheel
Big Boy
Marketers don’t do small,
Munchkins can’t sell tall
Little man are you listening ...
yeah, you with the big feet
Come get your feelings stepped on,
Mama Smurf is sitting in your seat
Hey, little man ...
when will you get your proper respect?
Butt of another joke again,
big laughs is ‘bout as large as you gon get
Hey, little man ...
yeah, you with the big head
Napoleonic complexion
got your face turning so red
People say you got a big mouth,
that you talk a real giant-size game
But my homies say, you’re a shrimp baller,
whose short of stature with a light frame
And if things don’t bounce your way,
you just simply squawk and squeal
Little piggies tend to oink a lot,
when bacon is gonna be the next meal
Big Mac
Big Wheel
Big Boy
Marketers don’t do small,
Munchkins can’t sell tall
Little man are you listening ...
yeah, you with the big feet
Come get your feelings stepped on,
Mama Smurf is sitting in your seat
Hey, little man ...
when will you get your proper respect?
Butt of another joke again,
big laughs is ‘bout as large as you gon get
Ever heard of Aloe Vera Oil Shampoo, my friends?
Not since the Napoleonic Wars were nearing an end
It's been around since
Pretty young nymphs
Danced playfully around fountains in their Depends
Covid-19, do you run
on some evil foot
out of sight,
beneath the light
till your Napoleonic march
brings you to rout?
Or out of habit
Do you lust for old flesh
due to a generation gap?
Alien footsteps on our life intrudes
I hear cacophony of voices
counsel you to retreat
If you like our fireside
then consider the option
of a cease-fire.
In our sun-touched garden
your breeze of death
solidifies our pillars
of faith.
Across the wide swath
mother earth's bleeding
deploring your running stream.
Radiant glows our faith
against your lava
pouring in the hillside.
Fabled ways of flames and fire
we're more used to than
your cold killer façade.
Your rapid-fire genocide
is candidate for a new
Nuremberg trial.
I have no clue what Krshna taught Arjuna
but I like the name Atman a lot.
Atman. Atman. Where a man is at.
At all times. No matter what.
Gita, get in the action, gorgeous girl,
God is the answer, keep the meter.
Wisdom, none.
What Krshna tells Arjuna makes no sense.
I prefer mathematics.
Knowledge of how things are made and done
more than meditation on the Self
as a manifestation of the One.
I’ll never have to leave this comfortable planet.
We have this asset but can we sell it?
In Paradise Lost, Satan executes his plan
but God already knows all about it.
Still, whether it succeeds or fails is up to Man.
Same here, when it comes to nuclear armaments,
a distraction from the work of making life permanent.
It is all premised on the mystery
of invisible but sentient particles—
little Krshnas and Kachinas
nesting inside one another.
Meanwhile life goes on outside all around you—
WWII, the Napoleonic wars,
the Civil War which we’re still fighting.
Krshna says behead your brothers
without prejudice or justice.
So it transpires in the nuclear fire.
Whatever forever.
Teacher, teacher—tiger!
Zolpidem kept me late, the library had been open for hours.
Young children studiously ran amok
from one poster plastered aisle to another.
I have this thing about female librarians.
I had hoped to have grown out of such fantasies,
emerging perhaps like some immaculate moth
from the grubby chrysalis of this crumbling body but…
The sight of a full-figured, middle-aged bespectacled lady
pushes demanding impulses through my bloodstream;
I retreat to the dark heart of the Napoleonic wars
where history archives many a pervert.
Old men fight wars, the young die for them, but outcomes
(exactly when the bloodletting must stop), they are played-out
in the deranged minds of those who then publish the books.
Of course, they always knew they would get away with the lies,
probably knew that I would be here hiding
between these dishonest pages,
with nothing on my Ambien fueled mind,
but middle-aged female librarians.
~~~~