Best Pyrrhic Poems
PYRRHIC VICTORY*
Written for a friend who has cancer!
Who are you, oh Death?
Are you:
A friend
Or
A foe?
My liberation
Or
My condemnation?
The end of my troubles
Or
The beginning of my tribulations?
The sunset of the temporal
Or
The dawn of the eternal?
Whoever you are,
Unafraid before you I stand,
Waiting
For the moment we meet face
To face.
If
As a friend you come, in the middle of my
Peaceful sleep,
With great joy, I will throw myself into your
Cold arms,
BUT
If
You come in the form of an incurable
Disease
I will fight you with all my might,
Yielding not,
A single molecule of mine, to your voracious appetite,
Without
A ferocious battle to give
Thus
When your anticipated win ever comes-after
A billion battles-
Your victory, Oh Death, a Pyrrhic one would be!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
19 JANUARY 2014
*When Pyrrhus, the king of Epirus, Greece, invaded Italy in 279 BC and engaged the Romans In the battle of Asculum he was victorious but at a great cost, for he lost a great part of his army!
After the battle, he declared: "If we are victorious in one more battle with the
Romans, we shall be utterly ruined". It is from this declaration that the term
"Pyrrhic victory" originates.
Pyrrhic revenge
They’d eaten his books, his clothes and lean paper money,
Whetted their teeth against his coins and an old jar of honey.
They’d blown cold air nightly, as they gnawed whilst he slept,
Eating bits of his extremities that lay in the path they crept.
No out-of-bounds, for every nook they could roam,
In his one room shack - the pigsty he called home,
Pooing on his bed and table; sometimes, boldly in his stare,
And, not inside his drawers, pots and pockets, did they spare.
By heavens, for such a man in his youthful prime,
There was none dirtier; whose home had more grime,
The constant reek of gunge - what better invitation,
To every pest; flying or crawling, for cohabitation?
He’d hoped to kill the poverty that to him, had seemed to glue
With the job for which he’d been invited for an interview,
Alas! His file jacket was barely held by its leather threads,
And his results and certificates; partly eaten, were in shreds.
Enough! he’d thought, and bought a mousetrap,
With smoked fish bait, he’d soon heard the trap’s first clap,
Of the fathers, mothers and offsprings, he’d caught one,
With this and others after, he’d planned his vengeful fun.
With glee, to the street he’d stepped with the vermin,
The fate of which, only he could now determine,
He’d doused it with petrol, amidst street kids cheers,
But oblivious of his folly, and fate’s inaudible jeers.
With a single match strike, it was engulfed in flames,
And what happened next, he had none to apportion blames,
For, in blind anguish, the rat had dashed back into his room;
The house had charred, smoking with a mile high plume!
PYRRHIC EVOLUTION
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS
There once was a time in this great land
When folks said “ yes sir” and “yes maam”
Those days are ancient, eroded away
Where are we headed, I’m afraid to say
A time when the elderly were respected
A time when vulgar language, not accepted
A time when women were fully attired
A time when patriotism; a virtue admired
We now live in era where anything goes
Hard to distinguish colleagues from foes
Every one has picked an agenda to defend
Voices are silenced: afraid they may offend
Folks are traumatized, by a word or a look
Students sickened, by the title of a book
Authority’s role is constantly questioned
Four letter words constantly mentioned
A well dressed man wore a suit with a tie
Now an unbuttoned shirt will get you by
Women wore hosiery, blouse and a skirt
Cutoffs, flip flops, physical assets overt
Many now change their biological gender
Crude, obtuse: replaced warm and tender
Technical advances slowly eroding creeds
Obscuring civility with vexatious deeds
Her eyes lightened the darkness of my hopelessness,
something about its softness pulsated.
Oh, what a prize,
my dear be mine.
I stared at her gently moving pupils hopeful,
to catch her gracious, precious attention.
But as our eyes locked, her consort arrived,
which solidified that she won't ever be mine.
Will there ever be a time when,
I can see such beauty again?
Short-lived dreams and,
pyrrhic triumphs.
- Ansar
28/02/21
MY PYRRHIC TRIP
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS
I Had Planned this Trip for Years and Years
Not Enough Longevity, Was My Haunting Fears
But Sure Enough the Time Arrived to Go
Gonna Ramble, Gamble and Catch the Shows
Off to Vegas, I Can Hear the Casinos Calling
Wad of Cash, Gas in the Benz, No More Stalling
I Studied the Ins N Outs of the Games of Chance
Developed a System, My Fortune Soon to Enhance
I Was onto Something, a Bulletproof Scheme
Hundred Percent Fool Proof, a Gamblers Dream
Initiated My Plan Just a Dribble at the Commence
Winnings Mounted, Creating an Air of Suspense
The Crowds Gathered, Shouting Hip Hooray
Taking the Casinos Money, Making Them Pay
Amassing a Fortune, Time for a Grand Slam
All In: One Last Bet, Cash In, Then Scram
But the Flaw in My System Reared its Ugly Head
I Was Greedy, Wanted More: I Should Have Fled
Well That’s History Now a Trip I Won’t Discuss
Arrived in a Benz, Left on a Greyhound Bus
Rigor mortis cold comfort
defendant need not appear in court
diminishes attendant prosecutorial effort
habeas corpus made superfluous
courtesy just dessert morte
but deadman outflanked plaintiffs sport.
Nonetheless millionaire financier and
accused sex trafficker
found dead by suicide
on Saturday August 10th, 2019
doth not absolve his guilt
rather speaks of innocence
and naiveté he stole.
Many accosted victims might rejoice,
yet the ghost of Jeffrey Epstein
will continue to hang around,
grinning, leering, ogling...
within seared psyches
indelibly scarred
only slightly assuaged
wounded warrioresses
advocates against physical violation
sexual and/or otherwise
offenders need be taken to task,
whether within parental/
guardian role, religious contexts
relationships, random
axe of violence, et cetera.
The voices of abused victims
sweeping across webbed gamut of
age, gender, nationality, race, religion...
suffer anguish courtesy
dirty deeds dirt cheap
costing devastating expense
for grueling life
only compounded when
blithely ignored
begetting psychological ills
giving perpetrator,
no matter his/her (their)
linkedin demographic bracketed affiliation
must be held accountable
yes even the president
plus lesser political representatives
granting guilty free license
to roam scott free.
Yours truly amply nonresistant
regarding ohm my dog
being convenient scapegoat,
reckons if brazen
and empowered courtesy
Lake Woebegone powdermilk biscuits
retaliatory vendettas bring absolute zero
win/win conflict resolution.
People still talk about war and peace,
But time’s come to talk of war and piece,
To pieces that turns life,
To shambles, utter strife,
And still, would war mania ever cease?
_________________________________
Happenings |01.03.2022| war, peace
Poet’s note: We know, war victories are pyrrhic and the victor and the vanquished both suffer. Yet, that does not stop any war-mongering. What suicide is for an individual, to the armies at war is no less suicidal. This war between Russia and Ukraine that might pull in others would have wide ranging repercussions all over the world.