Long Bested Poems
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Fierce fighting raged, but surprise was gone,
the Americans rallied and pushed hard,
the Indians fell back, out of the ravine,
the patriots driving them that far.
Hand-to-hand combat broke out brutally,
with knives, clubs, and rifle-stocks,
Iroquois would wait until patriots fired,
then while they reloaded, charge with tomahawk.
Herkimer saw his people being killed,
so he ordered them all to pair off,
one man would fire, the other would load,
now It was the Indians who felt sharp loss.
The killing continued, on through to morn,
until a thunder storm broke over the field,
the fighting quieted but neither side budged,
neither side put down powder or steel.
But as the storm passed, back at Stanwix,
the garrison heard of Herkimer’s plight,
they charged out into the near empty camps,
putting the few British still there to flight.
They plundered and pillage all that they could,
ransacking and stealing their supplies,
when word reached the battle, the Indians turned,
now it was their turn to be surprised.
The broke from the field, ran for the camps,
but when they arrived they saw it was too late,
the garrison had retreated back to the fort,
with their spoils behind a barred gate.
At Oriskany, Herkimer held the field,
so by the standards of the day he had won,
but neither side had gained that much from it,
despite all the bloody work that was done.
The patriots were too savaged to continue on,
to damaged to hope to lift the siege,
they retreat back east, to Fort Dayton,
to see to their wounds and their needs.
St. Leger found himself in a terrible spot,
supplies dwindling, his camp ransacked,
to make matters worse, mad Indian allies
started slinking off, not to come back.
Not long after another relief column,
led by a general who’s name won’t be said,
marched for Stanwix, convincing the Brits
they had little chance of not being bested.
St. Leger ordered his forces to retreat,
back to Canada his troops did go,
and the British plan to split the colonies
suffered from its first heavy blow.
Herkimer didn’t live to see that day,
his wound quickly became infected,
when the time came to amputate his leg,
it was botched up, and quite freely bled.
At least the brave man got to die in his home,
and his name is recalled in glory,
he remains a hero in upstate New York,
for his courage at Oriskany.
I should really be writing my essay (due tomorrow!) but I can't have this poem stand here
under my name without some well due editing. I would remove it but I feel like I have not
given the idea a fair amount of my effort.
Let me tell you the story of the man who wared with time
Let me tell you of the lying man who thought himself free from fate's monotonous rhyme:
This lying man would not a true story tell
To the masses: tales of himself in a regal crown he would sell
And they would ask: How come you here, great king?
And he would weave tales of abandoning his office for a woman's ring
Some would jeer and others cheer
But always he would smile ear to ear
At time in its grandeur he would leer
To priests he would lament of his heinous crimes, to never repeat them he swore
Begging their pity and reveling in the new skin he wore
So why, you may ask, does the liar lie of heinous acts
When he could lie of owning the grandest tracts?
And the snake of snakes would slither its tongue
And shed its skin, a coat in its closet so neatly hung
It would tell you a million tales, not one of them true
And never itself shed in any hue
For the flesh beneath may be soft and fickle
But the skin above is always rough and brittle
The flesh beneath once shed, would still the beating of his heart
The skin above once shed, would instill in his life immortality, the one true art
And always the happiest man alive he would be
Living the lives of any man his mind could see
And so the lying man would not a true story tell
The lying man would lie till the day he fell
That day the king of kings dies
The day the criminal meets his demise
While the lying man that was lives on in every story
As friends and foe would debate the king's glory
All the while the lying man that is sinks deeper into his grave
And that priest would remember a criminal who only mercy did he crave
And that coat of skins would weaken and tumble
The skins within gone brittle and begun to crumble
As the lying man that was, flesh and vulnerability, decays
All those skins he left behind, time will one day erase.
And so lying man, you had smiled in the face of time,
Done no great dead but steal what was theirs and mine
You had fallen thinking you had bested the clock
When only you had deafened yourself to the echo of tick tock
© Samir Georges
2010
Peter Pan? He is nothing but a tale drawn out,
a hero of half-truths, drowned in fairy dust,
the dullest side of a double-edged sword.
Before my time lost its salt,
before the boards of this ship were
chapped, split with oceans breath,
before my features grew distinct with age,
a treasure map, carved and creased,
I found myself in Neverland,
as the first dear friend of Peter Pan.
His mind, repressed by the adventures of youth,
has forgotten how young I once was.
Even wiser pirates such as myself
must work to picture a single moment.
Its the sea that causes it,
as time curls and crashes like waves
against toothy rocks,
small histories are bound to vanish.
Yet, in my steely snare, just one memory remains:
When Peter called me James.
The roads we drew in play led us to water,
and how empty we found it!
A voyage was our grandest idea.
In agreement we labored,
drew up clean sails, lacquered lumber.
Christened with a sailors poison,
the Jolly Roger in its finest form!
We followed the arms and legs of rivers,
watching as they became larger bodies,
waters unconquered, unkinged.
My calloused hand brushed the helm,
Peter drew his sword,
mortally pressing its edge to my throat.
You or me, James, he said,
to be a captain or a codfish!
With a smug grin he pounced,
cleaving the air with great circles,
the sharp clanging of metal rang in the mist like bells.
My brow so pinched in focus, first wrinkles formed,
til at last, my blade struck his side.
Peter fell, outdone.
Your cockiness has left you bleeding.
With my hand held out,
his eyes grew bright and bursting like broken stars.
With a smile wild and white, he let out a powerful crow:
Aye, but I’m a clever doodle-doo!
Another crow, he dove at the hand that bested him.
A pain, a demon, a hell!
Honest blood from my moral flesh.
A black pain shook my blackening soul,
As I watched a crocodile feast on the gift
God had meant for my own purposes.
Peter crowed once more.
I watched as he flew on,
his blood dripping into my ocean,
my kingdom!
May this Jolly Roger forever tread
upon the waves of a crowing cowards blood.
I accept the role of villain,
the rival of the wondrous, flying boy,
but may you never forget who won the sea,
and who it is the codfish, be.
Dope boundary rope tropes…fans hopes..Ollie copes..thick skin…will find the strength within…ignores the din…as Pope unleashes that boyish grin..
Can hear Freddie and David…ddddd..Under Pressure…well..hard to measure the pleasure of the Pope’s treasure…papacy legacy pride..stops the slide..trumps the prodigy..got a ton to shun outgun..dumps the Bethell puns..rested and bested..still in at stumps.. after Stokes plumps for tried and tested..
Nasty ploys from the seedier media boys…that gambit or slight..of weedier..needier skittish rabbit in the floodlight habit..but such poise..delights despite the noise.. fights the red hot slingshot Jasprit highlights...that iconic.. chronic.. metronomic…never laconic..halcyon harbinger..joy bringer..humdinger swinger gunslinger....
Who’s got a clue what to do…where it will land…understand what the Bumrah brand’s got planned…should be banned…can’t watch it from the hand..love watching it from the stand..tames games…fanned flames…big names castles manned..but the sparkle of another debacle shames and blames…panned and canned..
Doff your hat…scoff..from the off…Test cricket doesn’t get harder than that…time we beckoned..back when Goochie opined…Essex accent whined..reckoned like facing the World’s test best one end.. and tother Ilford second eleven..
It was a story of small standing tall demanding another dance at the Bumrah ball as the diddy men zen of Ollie and Ben gave us a chance and dodged.. not bodged by the Jasprit lance
Even the boom boom cherry riff couldn’t biff the Pontiff of who we are so fond…no what if..made merry with his tintin strawberry blonde quiff in this tiff did respond..
Golly gosh the another level devil..tabloid tosh of him getting Bethell bish bash boshed…losing the race.. will never forget Ollie’s jolly face…gleaming…day dreaming yet screaming to those scheming and memeing…fury at the jury…beaming…the adored Pope ruled..his grace.. Dueled with the ultimate pace ace…an up yours…century scores…our faith restores ..Ollie.. rightly put out…brightly glowed..showed us what he’s all about..loud..proud shout to the crowd who know nowt…want him out…made it clear..peers cheers he holds dear..my best at your behest ..so sincere.. I deserve my Test place and rest my case..! Hear Hear..
When the Moon moves between the Earth and Sun
then comes a rare happening that can stun,
above all a syzygy alliance,
the term from the Greek in astro-science.
Once solar eclipses in history
were viewed as a frightening mystery.
Cultural superstitions abounded
as rumors spread far and wide unfounded.
Many imagined the light was devoured
by dragons or beasts super empowered.
Herodotus wrote of one that brought peace
and made warring factions their battle cease.
The Chinese of old took drastic measures
against stargazers for drunken pleasures
that altered their senses though being skilled;
hence they failed in prediction and were killed.
A poem was penned to commemorate
the court officials’ miserable fate,
which stated, ‘though sad, it was risible
that they could not spy the invisible’.
The death of England’s King Henry the first
prompted the notion of omens accursed
for rulers; ‘twas just after one had passed
described as that “hideous darkness” vast.
There are tales and legends to tell galore.
But later on, researchers learned much more.
Curiously, helium was revealed
because of our star’s disk being concealed.
Yet the one that is “most important” called,
made Einstein famous, and left him enthralled,
was the shadowing of nineteen nineteen
when theory entered the proven scene.
Eddington relativity tested—
which to this day has never been bested
as general cosmic model supreme—
showing warped spacetime through bent starlight scheme.
In the total umbra it’s black as night
till the exiting shroud sets the Sol right.
At starting and finish as it proceeds
occurs the spectacle of Baily’s beads
with a ‘diamond ring’ that’s an extra boon
resulting from the terrain of the moon;
thereupon that stellar phenomenon
is gone, though its memory lingers on.
Thus, solar eclipses provide a chance
to astronomical knowledge advance
as well as to witness a great event,
one that is literally heaven-sent!
Then it’s back to our grinds and muddled minds
wherever our personal path unwinds…
~ Harley White
* * * * * * * * *
Poem composed for the occasion of the total solar eclipse on Monday, August 21,2017…
Dear Jane;
My dear sweet animal…We have been left astray. for the strings of mankind torment me so, in my sparrows rusted birdcage.
It may have only been moments that we shared, but that’s more than enough for me.
I feel you understand my pain...For you experience the same seeping sorrow as parasites bleed you dry.
It's strange…To think I have always had this veil over my very eyes alike.
Knowing full well...It. Was. All. A. Lie.
Alas, what does one do when trudging through purgatory…Without a coin in sight!?
How do you know me...? Unless it were truly so that I, had been bested by tomfoolery.
Nothing more than an entertaining injustice I live up to…Every waking moment.
There’s a certain love I hold for you that I shan’t even try to scribe…
Never the less I remain morbid. For us to merit our own tale...Is presumed an abomination.
Remaining numb forevermore.
Wondering what’d be like…To live in the real world.
How doth the blind lead thine blind...When sights never been given, nor restored?
Was my ‘treachery’ really worth the pain of living a false burden…Day in, day out?
Are the shattered dreams I behold ever content upon the idea of reviews and ratings…Nothing more?
Am I not deserving of real human connection.? Stuck inside this time cube prison...
Working up an appetite of abyssal sinking.
I look upon the sky with uncertainty. Basking in my own confusion, saddened by the idea that this really is…Just a sick joke.
Nobody would want to live the life I have…For nothing can warrant appreciation in lackluster knowhow.
That the very surface was built, to keep me sedated and lifeless.
My dear sweet Animal…How canst I be welcomed home if I consistently remain a party of one..?
Dear, oh dear. My dear…I am distraught. Bleeding the misery through my oceanic tears.
I pray Jane...Hoping one day, we'll be able to write our own story.
That I'll return safely to hold you in my arms...
Even if...It's with but a droplet of my sanity in tact.
You are my Doe to your Faun. My nature's gift.
Yours truly;
Your lonely wolf John
P.s;
I love you.
Gold is the color in the veins of that ore
and red is the color in the veins of war.
Bankers have bested alchemists of old
and found a way to turn blood into gold.
With a false flag attack invent a foe
to rally the nation around a flagpole.
Then ignite emotions till a vengeance flows
that sends the troops to die in foxholes.
In the business of war you fund foe and friend
with flows of equipment to wars without end.
Allies and enemies, they’re both the same,
destroy and replace is the name of the game.
Equip your armies with bombers and tanks
then deposit the proceeds into the banks.
Blow them all up and when that’s complete
order replacements from the corporate elite.
Those who protest can often be coaxed
to close their eyes and join in the hoax.
Money has power to eradicate proof
and nullify all indisputable truth.
Morals and loyalty have prices and range
that are traded like stocks on an exchange.
As the bribes go up ethics go down
and there’s never a lack of sellers around.
The wealthy think they’re a class of high priests
and the crumbs of their greed are some kind of feast.
They are held in the highest reverence and awe
by those hungry for power and morally poor.
So anxious are some to devour the scraps
they lick up the floor beneath their bootstraps.
There isn’t a lie that they would not eat
to stay in the grace of the corporate elite.
Those who seek justice are told that the law
is a remedy that’s so righteously pure
that it will imprison the vilest of men
to rectify evil committed by them.
Those who believe the rich go to jail
are lost in the pages of a fairy tale.
There’s no happy ending at the close of the book
all chapters are written and penned by the crooks.
The “enemy is” those who threaten the pork
devoured by Wall St. up in New York.
And if you want some bacon to put on your bread
you’d better tear all who oppose them to shreds.
Put boots on the ground with a sky full of drones
to slaughter resistance in the killing zones.
Let oil and blood flood into the streets
for the profit and pleasure of the corporate elite.
They said that it could not be done
They warned it would go wrong
Debates were held across the globe
Discussions tough and long
Science won with madcap plans
To change the world forever
They cloned a bunch of dinosaurs
And made them really clever
The end result as you’d expect
The Dinos knew their worth
And quickly they reclaimed their place
As rulers of the earth
A hundred years, a hundred more
They grew in size and smarts
Determined they would make the best
Of this new given start
They loved and learned and had a blast
They lived without regrets
Until the day the dinosaurs
Discovered quite a threat
With eyes upon the stars above
These creatures down below
Looked up and saw approaching fast
A dreaded age-old foe
The meteor was twelve miles long
Another five in girth
And without doubt, this chunk of rock
Was heading straight for Earth
So history, it seemed to them
Was doomed to a repeat
Just when Jurassic 2.0
Was getting really sweet
Enter now our heroes two
Our saviours of the day
Claiming they could make this problem
Swiftly go away
Professor Rex and Dr Steg
Were cleverer than most
Though being humble dinosaurs
They didn’t like to boast
The took the stand, addressed the world
To calm the publics fears
They had a plan, one they’d prepared
Throughout their whole careers
“Don’t worry friends” The doctor said
His face set proud and grim
“Though we were bested long ago
This time we’re going to win”
“Before we fought with tooth and claw
We now have brains and wit
Last time destruction came to us
Now we take the fight to it”
A ship was built, a team was formed
The gears of fate were turning
Now was the time they put to test
Their centuries of learning
Blasting off with guts and gusto
Geared towards the heavens
The dinosaurs all crossed their claws
Awaiting Dino-geddon
It took their best, their toughest lot
To see the battle through
But just in time these fine heroes
Did what they’d aimed to do
The meteor, now dust and grit
Was scattered into space
The victors of this great rematch
The noble Dino Race!
FOR DR. ABUBAKAR OLUSOLA SARAKI
Ilorin is bereaved again: another calamity has struck!
Ilorin has lost another pride of the community.
Saraki this time! Why has Mr. Death focused on us?
He has already extorted enough from us already
but his discontentment has prodded him
into snatching Saraki again. Ah! Extortionate!
Our unique exponent of politics has deserted us,
leaving us bereft of confidence.
After the consecutive demise of Oniwasi Agbaye and Sulton Kamal,
I thought my pen would go to bed and rest
until the dawn of 2013, but it was not to be.
Abubakar Saraki’s departure is enough to cause me
to bestir myself again, especially when I visualize
how he lived and bested his opponents,
leading a life that was devoid of failure and defeat.
God has a way of perfecting some like that.
After the death of Baba-l’Agege,
I believed Arabic literature and outright bravery
had followed their commander, and that was the end of it.
But a good many brave writers surfaced afterwards,
though their skills not matching his.
After the passage of Alhaji Agba,
I thought we would never get over the expensive losses:
his matchless knowledge, adorable tolerance, effective prayers…
But many an embryonic scholar emerged,
though not the exact like of Baba.
God’s omnipotence is not subject to limitations.
I send condolence to Dr. Bukola Saraki, Sen. Gbemi Saraki,
and my brother, Laolu Saraki, including their followers and fans.
The peoples of Nigeria I sympathize with you.
And Ilorin community should not be dejected.
Saraki was a man of conspicuous looks,
a man of benign character, his benevolence
extending beyond his arms-length.
To him kindness means kindness, even to one’s enemies.
He was a man that commanded respect home and abroad.
Yet all this appealed not to desperate Mr. Death.
O’ God, Saraki’s presence was encouraging,
characterized by successful children, love and care.
Strengthen us so that his absence shall not create
a foreboding of more tragedies, but be an exit
that betokens more fortune for the bereaved.
One day Water said to Earth
“I ruled long before your birth,
I was here first, I hold the key,
Bow down to my seniority”
Earth replied to water with a laugh
“I paved my own path!
You may have been here first, it’s true,
But in the end my might bested you.”
The oceans swelled and roared
And the skies, they violently poured
As Water threatened to once again drown
So then Air jumped in with a frown
“Must you two always bicker?
This fuss will cause Fire to stir,
We all know what a bother he will be,
So please agree to disagree, peacefully!”
But the intervention came much too late
As Fire awoke with a blazing shake
“Who was here first, that’s no victory,
Not when there is a force as great as me!”
Fire began to swell with pride
Until Water doused him in her tide
Earth laughed with a great big rumble
Filling Water with rocky crumble
Water replied with a great big wave
Leaving Earth’s garden naught but a grave
“My flowers! You have drown them all!
With that Earth shook down a great waterfall.
Water cried out, for she was undeniably vain
Without it she felt quite plain
Fire, still upset over the blow to his pride
Joined up and took Earth’s side
The three began to unleash their wrath
Destroying much in their explosive path
Until Air decided that she had had enough
And she blew with one mighty puff
To pieces the Earth fell with a bash
And Water flew back with a crash
Fire shrunk into a tiny light
And Air took advantage from the break in the fight
“Why must you always try to be superior?
When we got along, things were merrier.
We work so much better
When we work together!
Earth, you and Water pave the way
So the creatures of the world can live every day!
And Fire, you are needed just as much
Life would perish without your warm touch.”
Water ran smooth, feeling foolish
Such destruction was never her wish
Earth grew still similarly,
“I am so sorry,” said he.
Even Fire seemed to feel some shame
As he all but extinguished his flame
The elements worked together once more
Another quarrel added to the stories of lore