Best Peasantry Poems
More than anything Nature fascinates me
Men living in close proximity to nature, I love to see
So I ramble into the city’s far outskirts
Watching ordinary people in commonplace pursuits
Imbibing much from the life of the peasantry
Whom none can beat in life’s lessons elementary
How they interact devoid of all cold formality
And remain free from all artificiality
I inhale the fragrance of the wayside blooms
Watch kingfishers and parakeets in colorful plumes
My eyes never miss Nature’s minute caprices
And I rejoice in home bound birds’ sonatas
I watch the daylight paving way for the night
And the sun willfully surrendering his might
I listen to the invisible choir, singing in the dark
That breaks the sacred silence of the dusk
How these common scenes fill me with delight
Nevertheless making me sorry for the unhappy plight
Of those unable to enjoy any ordinary scene
And turn their backs to pleasurable sights umpteen
Blessed are those who have eyes to see and feel
And remain happy being close to Nature’s heel
Whose ears are attuned to the beats of the average
And who need no other intoxicating beverage
Those who get a kick out of the commonplace
And seek everyday banal sensations to embrace
________________________________________
May.21.2022
Fascination and Awe Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Jeff Kyser
Categories:
peasantry, beauty, environment, happiness, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
The image burns within
my brain of an
old medieval hall,
remembered from childhood
picture books.
The food is heaped
upon the board,
the shields are on the wall.
The lords and ladies
round the groaning table
flirt and watch the fools,
the one in the silly hat,
and the others huddled
against the walls.
As the eaters of the banquet
gaily proceed on in
drunken bloated revelry
they display their earthly faults,
with arrogance,
to a huddled mud stained peasantry.
The bottom of the hierarchy,
in the shadows serving, or
shut outside the door,
hope to get the garbage
leftover from these bores.
But before the lords and ladies leave,
to pursue their flirtations in
exclusive privacy, the hounds
are let in to lick the floor
and eat the droppings and the gore.
Finally the fools from the shadows
and the huddled groups outside
are allowed into the abandoned hall
to lick the plates,
to glean whatever
greasy scrapes and food
have been left behind.
I think of this scene often
as I read the daily news
Categories:
peasantry, allusion,
Form:
Free verse
Monah Kaur and Robert Kumar fled from London, came to ‘Hindustan’; tied the knot
The 'Singhs' stopped their songs and 'Kumars at no. 42' burnt their studio; this rebellion; they will forget not
A petite piece of land was gifted by Uncle Prem to mark their freedom
With much thought the newly wed called it Garden of Eden
They cleared the plot from crawling matters and built a woody farm house
Within a year, Monah gave birth to twins; Lisa died; Minnie who survived became quiet as a mouse
The air around still polluted in invasion and many cuffed in iron
The sun and moon fairer than in London but nothing seemed fine
The couple laboured and fostered peaches for Mr. Big Ben; returned home clad in blisters
Minnie cried; and cried; her parents had no time and she desired a couple of sisters
In financial distress the duo approached the heroic Farmer Bachan to assist his flock
Pleased with their dedication he gifted them a Peacock.
Minnie cried louder now, seeing this English present; she wasn’t a fan
Bachan who was fond of the child, sent her way, a young Indian Peahen
Minnie’s tears lost its way in the Ganges as the new birds found their click
Around Christmas added to the family was a cute hybrid Pea-chick
What adorable ‘chana’ like eyes had she!
Without delay, Minnie named her Chick pea
Eden now a 'Rangoli'; 'Ranisas' and 'Nawabs' soothed in ‘Masala’ tea
All engrossed in the lights and sweetness of Diwali; no attention paid to the growth of The Serpent on that Apple tree.
Those daffodils patented to Wordsworth, danced in the air
In its abode, the serpent watched Eden, what a scare!
One morning, Minnie fetched a Brown ladder to reach the tree which dazzled with rounds of juicy red
The ladder attacked and killed; the child returned home badly bitten, almost to eternal slumber she bled
Bachan’s sheep strayed to the road that was not to be taken, decreased from many to few
Eden cried for The Good Shepard; The Foreign Raj ruthlessly bottled native stew
Prayers were answered and on a Tiger came a Flying sheriff called ‘Shroff’
Bedecked in turfy ‘ceps’ and ‘pecs’; this essence fought in ‘huff & puoff’
Over time; in years almost equal to Tendulkar's century; the Serpent grew wicked miles
The gladiator fought till his last breath, excreting the treacherous reptile back to the British Isles
Categories:
peasantry, culture, grief, patriotic, war,
Form:
Rhyme
Tingling toes
of the megabyte cavalry
callouses scraping
along private roads
Cascading matrices
on the plasma periphery
peasantry bleating
on official commands
Stewing a cauldron
a festering foment
watering nations
from acid-soaked cans
BE SAFE!
say the oracles
so buying a check
but electing the cavalry
leaves the infantry wet
Categories:
peasantry, allegory, america, corruption, culture,
Form:
Free verse
The human experience fulfilling sensation,
our environment is our creation,
not ours originally,but ours to maintain,
natural system,needs are sustained...
Everybody has a bell that rings
cellular vibration,in song it sings,
a siren song enchanting desire
a high which takes you higher and higher...
The world is full of it's rising stars
untapped potential which takes them far,
it also has it's falling stars too,
a world of fools,a world of ruin...
A new portal behind every door
a gambit of play being explored
every encounter a game of chance,but,
what do you bear,the cross or the lance ?
The relic spear a source of power
Imperial thrones built up their towers
from Constantine to Charlemagne,
the Byzantine to the Lorraine...
All just sequels of transformation
preceding was laid their emulation
enacted improvements instituted
system of governing constituted...
All in hope to outlast the past,
relay race,a passing of the staff,
still only bond by popular opinion
confounded by those noxious minions...
The eastern hemisphere full of rage
they crossed the Atlantic to disengage,
but,in their scope,they brought disease,
methodology which didn't appease...
The red west never got a true chance
as invaders stormed behind their lance,
Montezuma welcomed with open arms,
soldiers of fortune brought firearms...
Indigenous people filled their plantation
others were chained to fulfill fruition,
Noble's became Don's,others slavemaster,
chain of events was still a disaster....
From fuedalisms fortune of birth
circumstance directed self-worth
peasantry suffered tilling the soil
while others got fat from plundered spoils...
Categories:
peasantry, history, politicalworld, song, song,
Form:
Free verse
Like a stalking hoarse,
Have endured shrewd days and night,
Like the physician ampoule,
Ready on my skin to pour.
flights from ignorance left these
Strawberry marks,
Eyes glued on the object
compelled to the hard brown wooden logs in art,
And the iron in room "G02".
Friends and enemies unrelenting
awaits enticement,
numberless distraction as obstacles on my path,
beckoning to the banquet of misery,
as this dangling reputation slowly pace along undeterred.
ego gangs gauged and chokes to loose the prize
avalanche of invisible darts piercing from home and abroad,
but I, a pretty piece of flesh,
Stand aloof to watch a drama
With the ointments of the supreme being
Within my bowels,
Those that see the seals, demand the cause,
Of quietude in this world of madness.
As I stood aloof to watch the wretch mirth turns to mourn
Ah weary watcher, like you, I am a mere voyager,
on the route where the delight of the peasantry
Is wept into oblivion
There are dangerous curves
As we advance,
there are dangling arrows,
The old serpent is not dead,
he hides in ambuscades
The road becomes deeper and deeper,
The shades of the precipices fall bleaker and bleaker.
The clouds gather overhead,
Doleful voices
The way hardly discernible in this gloom
The path is dreary,
our feet too often wobble,
Heart ambushed by fiercest lust,
Yet, Firm stand I.
Not in my natural element
Categories:
peasantry, adventure, introspection,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
Jonathan Moore had a cocktail queen
She lit up the skylight, move over Charlene!
Crack-jack milly-dilly four and a teen
Ain't come round here, she's in Johnny Moore's dream
Coastal giant wave-rider, top of the scene
Never quite made it up to see Magdalene
Jiffy-miff hacky-tack four and a teen
Thousand words a picture, on top o' James Dean
California jelly-bean, man overseas
Peasantry drinkin' up moonlight 'n' tea
Fenny-benny piggle-wiggle four and a teen
Coffee growers naggin' 'bout Jack and the Bean
Kissing tigers wanderin' through coal mine reeds
Took his twenty dollars, 'twas more than they'd seen
Cally-cat whistle-whine turn a new leaf
Never known a joker didn't have him a thief
Categories:
peasantry, lost love, love, nostalgia,
Form:
Lyric
A ten pence curve on a nine cent? Oh dear. It is a shame when the circles form. Either a circumference is allowed to exist or it is chipped away. Thus is not the fault of the peasantry nor the fault of a passing fallow deer. It is merely the eradication duty of an authorisational ball of fur. Blurred out. Blacked out. So cannot always be seen except for the eyes of a lizard lounging beside a rock pool. Besiege not a frozen free falling pan of casserole. For when it explodes there are way to many components to collect. When angles are sharp the birds call. When twigs break the ground laughs. The trade deals from an ironic ignorant ignoramus are destined to be ignored as all shall mount the horses and trot off underground. And of course underwater. But hesitate not oh those with no neigh will be baked, fried, and served to the sky in rapidly increasing dust clouds. So do not consider a clicking kitten shoe show to be sexy. For it is an aversion of very demonic drains. Derive not an arrival list from a shooting star. And weary not when travelling over the weekend plates. For it is best to support barbeques than cast banquets. Leering laughing lolloping lecherous lingering lines. And a great big dollup of iced tea. Take one not two. And whirl around. In a foreground sense it is the duty at this time to carryout teapot missions in a global scale of tee. Miss one mouse then a house would topple. So go and eat now. Fifty three toasts and a melon jam with cream. Goodnight said hello to the sun. Something of importance in a carbonated blanket. Dig dig dig. Pickle the pig lights up at night in the far east. Good. Great. Fantastic. Toys then. Haha haha and a bean sprout in pin striped suit. Hahahaha and a little man too. Xxxxx flesh fakes xx categorisation Z z z
Categories:
peasantry, basketball,
Form:
We battle and quibble over numbers,
twenty, or forty, or fifty-three percent.
The bottom squeals as the beast still lumbers
over their desperate bodies. Screams will rent
the air that no one hears because all fight
for their own small crumb and piece of turf.
Paperwork splatters blood against the light.
The casualties mount and the suits will laugh
at fools eating their own. They too well know
that the greater the battle among their minions
that much greater the profits that will grow
in their hands. No need for shared opinions
of how the peasantry has been bullied,
none seem to notice that they are enslaved.
Categories:
peasantry, allegory, analogy, truth,
Form:
Sonnet
WAY TOO FAR
A world of death un-minatory
Having non-a-soul harboring peasantry
Every material not on grounds being monetary
See wars’ presence at a vote minority
leaving every being in perfect harmony
If intellectuality’s true course is an awared society
Love being so truthfully lovely
So secured is every party
And moments together is divine worthy
With first kisses always at heart
So old memories to forget then hard
While coitus strives no man mad
Hence only rendering love precious the time they had
But not a clue true to day life
cos all said is to the world a lie
Ako N. Henshaw
Categories:
peasantry, life, world,
Form:
Lyric
Tell it to the mountains
tell it out loud that the world might hear
Wax up the steep and rugged hills, journey the valleys and fountains
tell them! oh tell them now that they are near
‘that there lived the casted stones
Let the world hear of their silent voices
‘though may come as echoes
Yet, in peasantry they live and make such loud noises
The worthless pearls have found their worth
they sought for noesis and were answered without delay
Tell it out loud for
the son and daughters of lay men are now of great names
Tell their success story
Tell them it’s not all irony.
©Emmiasky Ojex
Categories:
peasantry, mental illness, metaphor, poetry,
Form:
Sonnet
I recline with my cherry tree musings…
a fount of blossoms rise
and curve up from the ground
up into a heaven-and-cloud scene
to spread in splendor a festoon of blooms
like cumulus-puffs plucked from above
placed in tufts to fluff graceful branches
plush with clusters the pink of an ingenue’s
blush captured within her maiden buds
before she even knew how to bloom
born of Nature’s wealth
she is rich with frilly flourish
steeped in scent of morning dew —mist and moss
heaped with pollen-gold pursed within
petal-pouches 'til unfurled like hooped petticoats
each bloom thriving with a thrill yet only for the span
of a brief fantasy conjured by the cosmos
she wears the fuchsia mantle of a romance regent
a spring queen amongst peasant green
but her reign not designed to last beyond
the swoon of April's rouged moon
..and I the lowly grateful grass beneath her class
am charmed and soothed
by the aestheticism of her coral confetti rain
as her flowers relinquish control
reaching into their shared soul
realizing it’s time to let go… falling
oh f a l l i n g from heights of her feminine fame—
a shower of rosy carnival streamers
—the curtain call of a nirvana-drama-diva
..and I the lowly grateful grass beneath her shade
am humbled by the melancholy of her fading beauty
but cheered to wear her eye catching mantle
and bear her vanilla scented love letters to the earth
transforming me
from the peasantry of chlorophyll unfulfilled
transforming me
from the mundane to the ordained
for in this moment as you gaze upon me
these staid blades of gravestone grass —even I
am e n c h a n t i n g as the last petal falls
Categories:
peasantry, appreciation, beauty, flower, nature,
Form:
Free verse
Browse through the history
Money is increasing industry;
Let it be business or peasantry
It is omnipresent mystery.
Everyone for it see palmistry
Ready for money do idolatry.
Money make man go to optometry;
It has capacity to test sociometry;
As without it there is no entry.
With main, welcome complimentary
For development of our poultry
In which we live and do sentry
Our future which acts on ministry.
Browse through the history
Money is increasing industry.
Categories:
peasantry, friendship,
Form:
Monorhyme
Itoro, most gorgeous of all
Blonde long hair, dropped through spinal
Brown bulgy pupil, her stare is a call
Ruby tender lips, her word is final.
Men craved for her pleasantry,
Her aura makes the devious act honest
Elegance conceals her peasantry,
Dressed in a golden smile like a goddess.
Itoro longed to fall in love someday
But men dreaded her brilliant looks
Around her they flocked all day
Yet no appetite to eat what her heart cooks.
A too-good-to-be-true kind of lady
Every man’s dream, no man’s reality
A beauty admired daily,
Yet a friendly hostility.
Itoro’s beauty was an exquisite curse,
Robbed her of her secret desire
Her goodness earned a wicked purse
Wishing to be born again, she needs a love-messiah.
Categories:
peasantry, beauty, lost, love,
Form:
Rhyme
What natural
Is, tell!
The hawk in tabloid swoop did boast –
Whose sweetened-toil doth but
Stink, becometh it
A merry-menu nutriment.
The floods and the woods
Of their own stead in silent-words
– As a sentry –
Sendeth but a sober plea of a loyal peasantry
O, Nature! Creator! – all alludeth in an apogee
To Thy apanage and earnestly giveth plaudit unto Thee.
The swallow withal doth cheerfully
Gather and spin the straw ready to build wholly
Her empire of great tutelage;
And with her brethren bridally liveth in that age
Of diligent generation, in Thee fully hid
And given to lead like a kid.
What is more natured
Than a frog or toad in water plodded and nurtured?
His severe and heedless howl showeth his joy
To tell that: silent in a grave he shalt be a toy!
And the squirrel the jungle quire bustleth from
Tree to tree defiant of mortal wisdom.
A colossal splendour standeth
Thine sun, whose domain the day standeth;
Withal the moon’s comity: Thou, to her appal,
Bestoweth Thine night colonel –
Both but enlisteth in Thine countless soldiers of stars
Thine extol they effuseth like showers.
No less for praise, joineth the beasts –
In the homes so in the forests!
At peace in war as an influenza, Thine honours –
Man, Thine effigy, intellect and genius, in his hours
Extendeth through the gross of polity
Concurring with each command of Thine policy.
O, the fish speaketh of Thine glory, ingenious!
This inferred from a noisy-silence of her fins;
For she scorneth the indigent effort
Of the fisher whose labour won doth him hurt;
Yet, both creatures in many a varied way
Inditeth for posterity great praises that for Thee doth stay.
Yes, the clouds and the firmaments
Oceans, rivers, seas: all waters in constant movements
Doth in harmony with man and beasts
Arrayed in silent-noisy feasts
Shower in mysterious mirth
Thine glory from endless history and myth.
Yet, I behold the ineffable work bestowed on me;
My limbs, they moveth to second Thine decree!
My eyes, no exception indeed
To the law of my being, so splendid
Are those commands for me safely to live
Tho’ many infamous beings abound to strive!
Categories:
peasantry, dedication
Form: