Best Romulus Poems
*Image of Julius Caesar by QDT.
The Ides of March
Spun spells pummel our Earth ... as a Sun scanned absence swallow,
vacuumed blues taxes light once deemed eternal ... plus righteousness,
escapism from existence ... edges evacuation,
Birth ere the latter days ... ventured the laurels that were Rome,
the incarnation of iniquity ... masquerade innocence,
like clovers and thistles ... lure eyes above the common grass,
Furtherance besought ... midst tossed bone for multi contentment,
parades that paralyze souls ... usurp minds to sweeping abandon,
celebratory hails the seasoned ... emblem of power,
The gods and goddesses' palms of warring pulse ... 'tis peacetime,
nonetheless ... tributes adorn the temples of Mars in abundance,
'tis time of awash hands of mere grimes ... toxic suffers freely,
Citizens housed upon Palatine ... the triumphant hill,
felicitations honorable legions ... protectors of Rome,
promissory constants ... declared Remus per Romulus,
Roman Senate played a chess game ... Caesar kept them in check,
every move was scrutinized ... made vulnerable and powerless,
autocracy trumps democracy ... seeds gangocracy,
Plans are planted within plans ... schemes are shrouded inside schemes,
the beast entrails read ominously ... Spurina forewarns the marked,
timely debts to be paid in full ... matters to be settled,
At the Courts of Pompey ... the assembly awaits for him,
armorless donning senatorial garb ... metals pierce a man,
till mute ... last recalls *haruspex, "Beware the Ides of March".
*Haruspex; reading of omens from the entrails of sacrificed animals. The subject of Shakespeare's title play came from his thorough accounting of Plutarch's writings.
2022 March 30
*1st Place*
This or That, Vol 11
~~Edward Ibeh: Judged 2022 April 22
*HMS; 14,16,14 syllables per x 8 stanzas
I remember those times of unawareness.
The innocent circle of found trust.
Its purity and purpose voicing its strategy, before the fallen chips of caution led to tragedy.
Perhaps spotting our pursuit through these lands of grassy plains, where classy dames sip tequila and deceive the family name.
I struggle with challenge the arrow of cupids aim, in a kevlar suit burning in a sodium lithium flame.
We listen to opinions to make up our own, we hear and we think, and we urge to be grown.
A prophetic miracle some says pathetic to believe in, with an acrid bitterness and refuse what they're seeing.
A distant group of archers camouflaged amongst the woods.
Stood freezing there like statues like hidden busts they would,
Move if they could, but something takes a hold and the rest of us conceal ourselves in the safety of our homes.
Fearing the autonomous and the documents they grasp.
Us occupants are promised choice though its dominance they hand.
Like Romulus I'll disappear in the storm and send the tidal waves to shore like in the bible.
Roaring floods off Babylon for serving other idols.
In this basic life style riled up with rivaling sides of my minds vitals.
Brain child wildly rifling through his lifes cycle.
Once upon a times a lie you live untill the end.
Through these winters discontent hibernating waiting for the summer time again, but summer came and went without the sun, instead was wet.
Self confidence a strength which some of us pretend.
We learn as we grow older like owls grey and wise my friend
You cant take anything you own from life over into death.
It makes sense to have the things you want while you can before the call.
Yet remember when you have it it's not good to want for more.
Come hither with haste and stay with me my saviour, let us break, the ties that bind
together all animosity and hate.
Its an anomaly we face and confessions we should make.
Knowing a smart enemy hits where you surely think you're safe.
There is a city in Europe where Romans do dwell
The beginning of which must have been hell
Founded by twins once sentenced to die
And nursed by a she-wolf. They came to defy
The horrible uncle that tried to destroy
The peace that would come from the twin boys
Afraid they would one day steal his thrown
He sentenced their deaths, but they lived on unknown
Till one day they learned who they truly were
And marched an army to kill the cur
After his death the twins disagreed
They decided on a contest-The winner succeeds-
Romulus started a city of his own
But Remus was angered at being alone
He hopped right over his brother’s moat
And was slain on the spot, or so it was wrote
Romulus became King of the Lands
And built many things with his two hands
The Senate and Rome can be credited to him
Quite a lot from someone whose life was so grim
Walking along the Tiber's River walls,
one discovers hieroglyphics
depicting images of Romans
engaging in battles; they seem
mythical warriors so appealing.
As legend goes, Romulus
became the first roman king,
he founded Rome once
an insignificant rural village;
in the shortest time,
it grew into a powerful city
that ruled the ancient world
with intimidation and atrocity.
Each hieroglyphic tells
a story of victory,
of defeat, of conquest,
of cruelty and dominion:
hear Julius Caesar
speak against his enemy
in the Roman Forum!
It's such a sorrowful echo of distrust;
hear the shouts of proud citizens
overtaken by anger and disgust...
even louder they would be after
his premeditated assassination!
Every empire old or new
has known its glory in full;
and Rome more than any
empire has excelled them all.
If those hieroglyphics tell
of its greatness and superiority,
they also should expose
the evil minds of some emperors:
like Caligula, Nero and Diocletian
who ruled with a steady iron hand.
Constantine's conversion
to Christianity brought harmony,
the inhumane slaughtering
of innocent Christians was halted.
Would this empire have survived
without its legions of mighty stronghold?
Hieroglyphics itched in triumphal arches,
temples and monuments attest:
that the rise to power takes
an ingenuity which begins
with a strategic concept.
Today a world government
is in its raw state, other
hieroglyphics will be carved,
and along with holograms,
one sees images beyond
imagination and belief.
Will humans leave
a testament of their
existence with
a science so brief?
We’ve heard of brothers who didn’t love
but hated their siblings instead.
And there were some who went so far
as to want a brother dead.
Cain slew Abel, Romulus killed Remus
Jacob tricked his brother Esau.
And brother killed brother in Civil War,
worst the country ever saw.
But this is not the way it should be
and my own dad and mother
raised five sons who didn’t quarrel.
Each one truly loved the other.
They were taught the Bible story
told by the man with many sons.
A bundle of sticks can’t be broken
but you easily snap just one.
My brothers all stayed friends for life
and no one came between them.
I miss their jokes and jovial talk,
its so long now since I’ve seen them.
Brother love is a wonderful thing
and I saw it personified
in my big loving brothers
until the day the first one died.
Their circle became a bit smaller
as they left it one by one.
Now my younger brother, sister and I
have a circle of our own.
By Joyce Johnson April 22, 2011
For Miranda's "Brotherly Love " Contest
Perhaps we have loved before
in the Lupanar of Pompei
goddess of Priapus
the overseer
of the fertile garden
commanded me.
We perspired upon pillows
stuffed with reeds
feathers and straw
most unwitting lady
whispered to me
"You will be Priapus!"
Content within you
likeness of dedicated fruit
made love into real fruit
worn lascivious acts
woman of well-borne grapes
dark skinned lady enraged with lust.
Stars may rise and set
but the light within us has set
night becomes one long dream
I now desire for 1000 more kisses
dark goddess of Priapus
from where Romulus and Remus
suckled the milk of the she-wolf...
Where's that ancient land where civilization began?
There...this disconsolate poet was born:
to tell whatever wasn't told on his return,
and to choose his tomb under the shade of a pine;
to be, somehow, comforted by the canary's song,
or the presence of the carnations that, into the warm rain, would shine...
Find such an amazing land by the deepness of the calm seas,
and the fresh scent of the Alps and Apennines;
foreign Kings governed it by their mighty cities,
and the occupied people never knew it as a united nation,
until it was liberated by a northern, courageous man:
Garibaldi... proudly called the hero of the Two Worlds!
Where's that ancient land where the Imperial Rome rose
on the top of the Seven Hills, where Romulus
was fed by a she-wolf? Legend, you say, but facts
may prove that everything that occurred was true!
O glorious Rome, all that's left of your greatness...
are crumbling columns ravaged by the storms!
When we read Vergil's writings and follow him in his travels,
carrying papyrus and ink to write when time allowed him...
we see impressive images of prosperous towns and cities,
and in Baianum he rested a day, then climbed the Mount of the Virgin;
and he gazed upon the lush hills and mountains of the country-side,
and heard the Nolans chanting and wailing when he died!
Where's that ancient land where civilization began,
and mild seasons adorn it with their vivid colors?
One can't help being lifted-up by a creation so breathtaking:
that God Himself was surprised in its making;
whenever you go, there are pristine meadows with wild flowers...
something compels the writer and the artist to return!
Copyright 2008 by Andrew Crisci
The rubicon is crossed,
thirteenth legion for glory.
Augustan,publico pro bono,
behold the untold story.
Marched into all Rome,
flags of the republic burn.
Demons threaten his name,
and say they shall return.
All hail justice reborn!,
Caesar, men will know fear.
Battle drums retired now,
nobody guarding the frontier.
Bingeing under empire skies,
baths with foreigners galore.
Wavering peace for the rich,
an abolishment of the poor.
The years passed quickly,
Cicero's return with his scars.
Trampled Rome so defenseless,
once again burning under stars.
Hung from the Romulus gate,
tyrant now in history's stones.
Curia of Pompey never tainted,
with Julius Ceaser's bones.
I have some stories from my childhood, so very long ago.
Which is legend, fairy tale or real, is very hard to know.
Did I not see Paul and his blue ox plowing up the prairie?
Were not Romulus and Remus suckled by a wolf so hairy?
I believed everything I saw in print when I was only nine
And then to find they are not true has really messed my mind.
Please don’t tell me that Robin Hood was not a real live hero.
If all his Merry Men are myths, then I am batting zero.
King Arthur and the round table and Sir Gallahad the knight
Were real to me as you are, to deny that isn't right.
The legend of Sleepy Hollow, near frightened me to death.
The headless rider and galloping horse truly made me lose my breath.
Some folks claim they have seen Bigfoot, or the monster from Loch Ness.
Whose talking straight, whose telling lies, is anybody’s guess.
I guess I’ll choose what to believe and I’ll do that because
There are some folks who try to say… “There is no Santa Claus”.
No. 10 in contest
A. Hatta asked
Q.”...why is the Raven like a writing desk?...”
because
it’s a.haven
Artemis
and not a fowl quill
he said... ah!
x
...
more regulus
then romulus
and brighter
then remus
i’d say
but not quite
so famous
the heart of a lion
called a raven
shameless
ah!
but distinctly
i remember
once upon a knight
in a dreamy september
flying embers knotting
quaint surrenders tapping
i nodded into nearly
and almost gently napping
when satin robes rustled
and i awoke wondering
“tis some visitor”
i uttered almost laughing
with and not at
his gentle naughty tapping
pleased
and shyly grinning
in the decor of my room
he was quite inviting
“couldnt find the door
so i came through the floor”
“ive come to remember
and perhaps to forget
that ive read the forgotten
on the ecliptics lip”
then a howling wolf
made a growling sound
but the raven stayed quiet
in the eyes of time
and 32 flights
became 33 rhymes
so do tell a soul
if with sorrows laden
that there is a palm
and a caring maiden
serving fresh
her cups of malt
with talons cut
upon a falcons deck
and even if
raven speaks knot
many have lived
tHere without
a trace
1
Since 1983, I spent each year
With her, or reasonably near
O to think I once was young, in love
With U (USA) running from African woe
That apartheid in South Africa
Yet I hadn't planned to leave her
I'd visit a month or two, less than a year
Even when I worked (one in Mandela's time,
A deputy director in their State Dept.)
But now, I've missed America much
Four years soon, another home
Albeit for a cause (Great Commission)
How i wish I'd not obeyed "religion"
2
Without you, Sundays are free
I have no religious duty or Assembly
I have little to look forward to
But loving U was stressing me also
I made an healthy choice, the break
Now to live -- hour by hour, by the minute
Here and now, though memories rising like Jesus
Reveal addiction to nationalism.
Romulus? Remus?
After: "Letter of Mithridates to Phraates, King of Parthia"
Historiae VI by Sallust
*****************************
I am a man more poisoned against than poisoning.
That’s my version anyhow, and I’m sticking to it.
Don’t blame me for having survived a few meals
Which others, less fortunate, could not.
All that doesn’t help me now with Pompey at my throat.
Pompey, plunderer and bully, who has enough wit
Only to command a Materialschlacht,
But that is child’s play with Rome’s support.
Rome! Scourge of cities, tribes, peoples, nations, all mankind,
Were not the Pillars of Hercules, the western shores
Sufficient for your ravenous appetite
That your eagle eyes scan my realm?
O Phraates, King of Parthia still unvanquished,
Had you but lent your ear to me when together we
Might have rid the East of this ill-begotten son
Of Mars. Small the credit, so great the loss!
For Rome, unchallenged, bestrides the Great Sea. Eastwards
He surveys my mountains and your rivers, groves and plains,
No doubt beyond. Remember Alexander,
Who sacked glorious Persepolis.
You vainly sue for peace, like credulous Philipp once
When fondly strung along with Rome’s promises of “pax”.
And what of Carthage? Where now her wealth of gold
And purple? Barren her poisoned lands!
Mind you, I’m not well-placed on a high moral pedestal
When it comes to poisoning, but limits I respect.
A few enemies now and then, I admit,
Died at my table. The ham was off!
But the earth is sacrosanct. I never salted fields,
For Rome’s venom is stronger than aught I ever brewed.
Where shall this end? Shall Rome vanquish all nations?
Shall all cower to his bloody sword?
But Rome! With surfeiting the eaten, not the eater,
Prevails. The whole world is, even for iron digestions,
Strong meat. It is the sun, not Romulus, whom
East and West obey. Helios rules.
With Rome to east and Rome to west, then two Romes are there,
And I do fear for man and earth. The approach of death
Lends men insight. I fought, I won, I lost in war.
My spirit is still king. Sirs, your health.
The last round! Like Carthage we lose to Rome the third round.
Once more is the Gordian knot in twain. Quirites,
The gods look down. Remember Alexander,
Who died of fever in Babylon!
Forgive me, father, for I have sinned
I have stripped dead Papa of his fingers
And thrown him like Romulus himself.
'Your sins are forgiven; go in peace.'
Forgive me, father, for I have sinned
Many men have died so I may clutch Salem,
I wonder has any land soaked more blood
I wonder could a land be less Holy.
'Your sins are forgiven; go in peace.'
Forgive me, father, for I have sinned
I confined them for two centuries
and locked them in in darkness.
'Your sins are forgiven; go in peace.'
Forgive me, father, for I have sinned
I have let my force make clean children
dirty
I have told those who need to,
not to protect themselves, and they die.
Forgive me, father, for I have sinned.
'Forgive me, Father, for I can not, you have sinned too much,'
Hey A Diddle, Diddle
The Cat has a riddle...
So when the dish ran away with Spoon
What station did little dog craft
giving big dog reason
to laugh at noon...
"... she works the wire..."
Regulishus!
More Regulus then Romulus
and brighter than Remus
I’d say
but not quite so famous
the heart of a Lion
called a raven shameless
ah but distinctly
I remember
once upon a Knight
in a dreamy September
flying embers knotting
in quaint surrenders tapping...
I nodded into nearly
and almost gently napping
when satin robes rustled
so I awoke to wander
“...It'za visitor...”
I uttered almost laughing
as his gentle naughty clapping
pleased and shyly grinning
in the decor of my room
was quite inviting...
So I asked about the Moon
"...Who, I said, am I..."
They formulate a clever plan
to educate the outer bands,
of Romulus and Remus too,
of wolves and warlocks,
just like you.
They imitate the wildebeast,
they tempt the lions,
without a feast,
or famine if you choose to stay........
they paint your wagon every day,
green or blue or
What you Will.....
Orsino plays and gets his fill,
of music
just to feed his love
of stars in heaven up above.