Best Ozymandias Poems


A Big Problem

Once there was a famous king,
More famous than Ozymandias.
His name was King Wolf. 
Sultan was his nickname.
He called himself a benevolent despot;
And his style of government 
A ‘democratic dictatorship.’

He spoke good English— 
A foreign language, though; 
Only a minor problem with 'l' and 'r': 
Once, for instance, a reporter asked him,
"What about elections, Your Majesty?"
His response: 
"Why, I have them everyday!" 
The poor reporter was thoroughly confused.

His kingdom was a land of superlatives:
The oldest civilization,
The largest standing army,
The largest population,
The largest exporter—of people,
The largest emitter of carbon dioxide, 
Now the second largest exporter of goods, too,
And will soon be the largest.

Since his was the most populous kingdom,
Demography was his obsession,
Which he called his specialization.
Of course, Sultan had tried his best
To check population growth— 
By means of family planning.
It didn't work.
So he curbed people’s Right to have children.
But still there was a huge difference
Between the optimum number
And ground reality!

Therefore, Sultan hatched a wonderful plan:
Started a war with a friendly neighbour.
Every section of twenty soldiers in his army
Had just one primitive rifle between them:
If a soldier went on,
He would be shot.
If he went back,
Again, he would be shot.
A Catch-22!
Many of his men were slaughtered.
But still Sultan won—by sheer numbers!
Oh, God!
But the King did not believe in God.
Like king, like people!

But the dead soldiers were only a small number.
So, now another plan:
Government is the boss.
Let people overwork.
Sultan cracked the whip.
And a number of people died—
Of overwork, year after year.
Further reduction in population.

Production increased:
Cheap goods flooded the world market:
From PCs to push-up bras.
No warranty.
The economy boomed.
Ah, his kingdom became a Big Power!

But once some workers gathered 
In the Capital and protested—
Against exploitation.
The name of Karl Marx was in the air.
“Listen,” Sultan roared, “Marx died—
Long ago.
So should you—now, 
For raising his name in vain.”
So, still further reduction in population!

Now, when this narrative ended, 
Sultan was busy, planning for another war.
Poor soul!
How else could he solve the problem—
Of overpopulation?!

***
© Ram R. V.  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member I Heard They Thought Themselves Civilized

I HEARD THEY THOUGHT THEMSELVES CIVILIZED

Each grain of gorged sand
civilized people —
themselves owned; owned land.

meanwhile the steeple
looked down at the band
of loquacious stock.
each thought themselves well
in front of the rock.

Ozymandias’ plaque —
bleak headstone of hell!

Cain’s ark had a crack —
offed sand of red sea.

Cornerstone cuts back
the billows — sets free.

7/28/2020


Ozymandias was written by Percy Bysshe Shelley. Here is a couple verses:

My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;
Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!

The bible speaks of Jesus:

On his robe and on his thigh he has this name written:
King of Kings and Lord of Lords.

Revelation 19:16 NIV

This Jesus is the stone that was rejected by you, the builders, which has become the cornerstone. And there is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved.”

Acts 4:11-12 ESV

In Exodus 14 verses 21-22

Then Moses stretched out his hand over the sea, and all that night the Lord drove the sea back with a strong east wind and turned it into dry land. The waters were divided, and the Israelites went through the sea on dry ground, with a wall of water on the right and other left.

New Ozymandias

O How Great It Is...
To be alive on this day!
Heh, Most unlike you!

You're Deader then dead
Just like the wooly mammoth,
Who's also your dad

I'm alive in space!
Without a care or worry...
I'm forever free.

Remember highschool?
Well, I haven't forgotten.
But you have, my dear

You rejected me!
But not privately, mind you!
No, that'd be too nice...

Had to be cruel...
You told them all when I asked.
And I was left, mocked

But space is so kind.
Unlike your now burning Earth.
Fighting my cyborgs?

Sorry for the mess.
Death Stars aren't too accurate...
They get the job done.

Well, England is gone.
Your most favorite city.
I burned it myself.

I'm truly happy
Yep, I'm just floating in space.
Yes, Yes... I'm damn sure.

I do NOT miss you.
Or the goddamned earth, either.
Just stop guilting me!

No... I'm not happy.
I'm just alone in deep space.
I'm Watching you burn.

Please forgive me, miss.
I was so jealous, old friend
I was just so hurt.

I feel  terrible.
Like I'm Ozymandias
Only, I despair.


Premium Member my poor ass

Trump's MDs now searching the pool
Know organ transplant prolongs rule
For match perfection
Without rejection
His kidney must come from a mule

Premium Member Sonnet Written In Optimist Park -Italian Sonnet- -Win

(Rhyme scheme : abba abba cde cde)

I met a pessimist walker in Optimist Park,
She walked with a walker and a co-walker
Crippled, stressed, depressed, a fatuous talker.
Swaying on either side, not in her mark.
Troubled by winged insects blood sucker in the park
“mosi-ki-toss” many “mosi-ki-toss as if in utter danger
Shouted she in her Serbian accented mumur,
Waving palm to drive away foes & woes to debark.

Immigrants of different nations & cultures,
Come in search of shades of optimism,
Culminating in the Old Testament adage,
"HE hath made all things good in their times"
Indulging in the mirage of meliorism,
Things are bad but can be of better advantage.


+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
=================================
The sonnet was posted on PS ON 6-16-2005, the day I joined PS

I wrote this sonnet visiting Optimist Park in Windsor-Ont-Canada. It is " thoughts recollected in tranquility" 
I was inspired to write this sonnet by P.B.Shelly's " Ozymandias " sonnet

=========================================================
Third Placement
Contest: My Inspiration
==================
Ninth Placement
Contest : Italian Sonnet

The Modern Ozymandias

The Modern Ozymandias

The Shelley poem adapted by Elton Camp

There was a stadium at Pennsylvania State
Where two strong and trunkless legs now stand
Near them, on the ground, a fallen visage lies
Wrinkled brow and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which survive, stamped on these lifeless things
The beady eyes that ever looked the other way
And on the pedestal these words appear:
My name is Joe Paterno, the coach of coaches
Look on my works ye administrators and despair
Nothing of that colossal wreck now remains
The integrity of a university forever damaged
© Elton Camp  Create an image from this poem.


Queen of the Night

Of what maze is time-
That a little petal solves?
Blossoming in dim light
Against the cliché it holds

Strong when the ends are-
Seen, weak when the ends are bleak
The tradition of-
Eon a burden long borne

Scents when the mind rest
Bloom when the muscles tremble
Like a ghost it breaks-
Free from solitary cage

As the bud blossoms
Shiny in the midst of trees
Showy it attracts
Femme-fatale but love to me

Zeus among it peers
So blemish like a goddess
Like Ozymandias-
She stands beholding beauty

Ozymandias Ii

A modern herald in an ancient land
Announced to whole world this: "A massive bronze
Hand lies beneath some lofty columns grand;
Nearby, a cracked and spit-drenched head, so huge,
The mustached lips yet primed for stern command,
Cold eyes that espied what passions were unleashed
From now freed hearts years-cooped in vise-like grip
Of this same hand but just a while past raised,
Atop a marble pedestal stripped bare
Of titles. Once his very name, but heard
Made subjects cower, freeze, in utter fear!
Soon will this hollow head be wracked by rust,
So, too, this hand that ruled twin rivers lair,
While toppling slowly hailed the waiting dust."

The Poets

Buson had his comb
and Pound, his blackened bough.
But I am no poet.

I do not rage. Rage
is not for me.
Inspiration does
not peer through my ribs.

I cannot talk of Michelangelo
Or tell of Grecian Urns. No,
Ozymandias has not looked upon
My works.

What I write will not
Stand up with the greats
Sadly, I am no
Neruda, Poe, or Yeats.

I just spend my time
Reading The Rime
And failing to create.

Premium Member Let Haiti Be Absolutely Free

Let Haiti be absolutely free
Haiti is the father of Freedom and Liberty
Haiti is the first nation to forever ban or abolish slavery
And the slave trade in the western hemisphere
And in the world
The first to practice absolute equality
Among men and women on this sphere
And throughout the world
Stop meddling and interfering detrimentally with Haiti
Leave Haiti alone to be absolutely free
Haiti is the first nation to dig up and plant the seed of freedom
For the world to unfortunately follow with pure hypocrisy
Haiti is the first country to denounce false democracy
Haiti is the first leader to choose martyrdom
The first oasis to defeat colonialism in the Americas
Haiti is where was born the first buzz of jazz
The first beat and cry of “We Shall Overcome”
Haiti is the first country that they tried to betray
Haitians are the first unsung Heroes to die for Liberty and Freedom
Thanks to Haiti that many people are living free today
Since Haiti had spread the incense throughout the world
“Live free or die; Freedom or Death”. Leave Haiti alone to live
They made Haiti poor, undesirable, dangerous and unsafe
By supplying weapons to knuckle heads, teenagers and youngsters
They damned Haiti with crazy terrorists, thieves, bandits and gangsters
In daylight, they tried to push Haiti down the steepest cliff
Yes, they robbed, looted, poisoned, and they miserably failed
To dwarf, to kill Haiti and his noble dreams after numerous invasions. Leave
Leave Haiti so Haiti can be Haiti, let Haiti swim as Haiti pleases
Regardless of what one hears
Haiti is a nice piece of land with smart and proud Nègres
And brave and valiant men and women with small and big toes
Who will fight and shed blood, sweat and tears
To defend Haiti Chérie. Give justice to Haiti by any means
And help Haiti getting rid of the ungrateful criminals and the vermins
Haiti will underwhelm, rise and rise again in the Caribbean Seas
Because Haiti is peaceful, patient, lovely, adamant and resilient
Haiti’s children are watching and they are highly intelligent.

N.B. By the way, Nègres like ******* is not offensive to us, Haitians, however, ‘nizzers’ is insulting.

Copyright © November 2023, Hébert Logerie, all rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.

A Sonate of Lust

I would dance on your tongue for 3 days in a row. 
until you were completely wet.
 pray for submission, pray for love,
 a love that burns, in the body,
 in the soul and between the legs. 
Burn where your juices are ready to flow. 
and you in fire, do not whisper, but moan, 
as my tongue slides between your thighs. 
you pray that my arrow will hit you 
where your lust sleeps, 
and you will wake up in a trance 
to huddle close to me, 
Until sleep takes you.

Ozymandias

all my clothes are rags
all my cups are cracked
all my plates are smeared
and all my windows smashed
all my pets are bugs
all my books are ripped
all my time is spent
and all my friends are drugs
all my hope is gone
all my words are crazy
all my world is hazy
and all my life's gone wrong
all this time ive waited
all this time for you
all this time you've hated
all this i do for you
all this happened since you left
since you left me on my own
all this happened since you left
since you left me monotone.

South Mumbai #1 : Morning Thoughts On Ballard Pier

Not the sleek modern skyscrapers
Fragile, slim, standing tall
Catwalk queens of present times

But squat, imposing, solid built
Dowagers of a bygone age!

Forgotten memorials
Screaming, unheard, unseen
Proclaim of valor 
In faded wars.

Winged griffins,
Gargoyles, Gods, Goddesses
Look down and stare
Mute remnants of majesty.
Verily Ozymandias comes to mind.

The lanes littered
With the birds, the bees and the beasts,
Kids both biped and quad
Suck hungrily at vestigial teats.

Pups latch on to a mother
Who’s long forgotten her own.

A crow feeds on the feast 
Of rodent tripe.

And the statuary smiles on!

Green

stay your hand
with its obtund touch
take away your arid mouth,
your incurious eyes from me,
from my unscaled sight

you are but dull clay,
Ozymandias, barren
and I am fresh green
that strives for the light

spilling from your crumbling ashlar
jubilant, with scarlet buds
to catch the rain
and burgeon in its caress

to sway with the tumult of the wind
to kiss the voluptuous sky
to lay my feet on the lush earth
to live, to thrive
far away from your desert

Premium Member Liquid Sky Distortion

Lost in this Little, big world 
Of nightly sweats 
I see a road sign that diverts 
My attention to swerve 
Away and Wake up 
From the Reality around me ... 
I just need a break  
From it all, for awhile 
My eyes cross as I reach 
For the Blue something or other 
Ahaed of me 
I stop time for real this time 
Because it’s my time, me time 
To be real but not really 
Because I feel like I’m dreaming 
With my eyes wide open 
And everything seems so strange 
Around me as if 
God is trying to get my attention 
Somehow 
And for some reason everything 
Smells like plastic 
Leaving a metal aftertaste in my mouth ... 
I hear music in the distant clouds 
And my stomach rumbles like thunder 
Perhaps I’m hungry for something new 
Something different  
Where the earth beneath me is putty 
Sucking me in and averting my attention ...
Reminding me
I am Grateful to be Alive.

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