Long Fealty Poems
Long Fealty Poems. Below are the most popular long Fealty by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fealty poems by poem length and keyword.
"My Kingdom will rise above all others. I'll always put it first."
He spoke with the devil perched upon his left shoulder,
but no angel sat on the right of this diabolical sinner.
The king pointed his scepter; his lemmings did his bidding.
Dethroned, he claimed foul to the point of 'ad nauseum.'
A whining child, toy taken away; unworthy of the crown.
Like Humpty Dumpty, he fell from his wall, his ego shattered.
Making up alibis while his lemmings battered and defiled.
"I'm innocent," he scowled, to his fealty of blind worshippers.
Promising, he'd be a phoenix, returning to reclaim the throne.
"Nay," vowed the judicial Knights of the District's Realm.
Unfit, the usurper who tried to topple their country's domain.
The Verbal War was fought. For months on end, battles raged.
It was the age of absurdity, neither faction would retreat,
and in the end, no one won, but the homeland was the loser.
The abuser, bent on vengeance, stalks those he condemns.
Millions cried, "Clip the wings of the phoenix! He's no leader.
His lies have breached beyond belief, and caused much grief!"
In southern lands he now resides, licking his festering wounds
while declaring, "It's just the beginning." and so the villain looms.
February 14, 2021
Biting Satire Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
My muse blew a fuse
Without excuse fealty did recuse
In jilting fashion without compassion
Tendered passion did stingily ration
Lofty discourse from pen did divorce
With no remorse absconded every resource
My inspiration turned to perspiration
Hopeless itinerant somewhat penitent
The bartered lexicon I did recon
A vagrant shill seeking to rill
The run-off spill pages to fill
A pilfered title would move engine from idle
An embezzled theme would ideas stream
A trite rhyme would be sublime
A pawned metaphor to open the door
A brokered simile; a borrowed metonymy
Would re-collect the literary dialect
Now shorn from mind so forlorn
100 hours, thousands of deaths.
My great uncle lost an eye that day.
An intense war briefly subsided
for the yet to come 12 year atrocity.
My parents’ parents fought against
the guerillas, losing their voices.
Helicopters and bullets flew
alongside Torogoz and the wells
overflowed with blood that rained
from the sky that day.
Bits and pieces of our neighbors
piled on my mother’s homelands.
Men camouflaged with masked principles,
terrors of the nights tore into the hearts
of their own people leading
to mass destruction.
The economy crashed raising
poverty from the dirt roads.
The colón was too little to fulfill
the hunger in its bottomless bellies.
The cries of the motherless
mothers grieved for their children,
as they were taken one by one.
Each of my uncles, aunts,
cousins, mother and father ran
to the borders concealing their breaths
under the stars in the midst of coyotes.
Part of each one died and buried
in their childhood home underneath
the mango tree that took my mom’s arm.
Roses and Izotes fill my father’s garden.
God, Union, Liberty, flag of my origin
stands side by side decades past
Bravery, Purity, Justice, flag adopted
into my family.
In camouflage, my great uncles
and grandfathers served,
and my brother pledged fealty
to the United States.
Following in their footsteps,
I wish to be a symbol
of my parents' grief and hope,
and my country’s resilience.
A quivering shadow shrouding a clouded pane
Shared pain scribbled in the doleful rain
Hollow words that broker heartache and disdain
A sorrowful whistle emanating from a distant train
Poorly trained recruits struggling above the furor to remain
Stridently striving nation's honor to uphold; but only vitriol,
criticism obtain
Sacrificial fodder sheared of its free-flowing mane
Pared of hope; left only with the incalculable strain
Stationed in a humid hovel that every ounce of stamina doth drain
Surrounded by enemies who fealty and allegiance feign
Fighting to defend a people tethered to a weak, tenuous chain
Serving under commanders who constantly seek fallow grounds to
regain
Sacrificial lambs whose blood the unforgiving terrain doth stain
Seeking a wily, amorphous foe in a borderless territory to contain
Reconnoitering through boundless jungles that equally beauty and
poison contain
Searching for 'guerillas in the mist', but only marauders and
malcontents detain
Scouring villages for contraband; arbitrary jury distributing pain
Showered with toxic chemicals that clear our paths but our lungs
restrain
Conditioned to violence as barbaric, torture devices many
comrades have slain
Transporting the liberal vices of burgeoning social revolution to a
frugaler domain
Satiating the lonely days; secluded nights with: booze, barbiturates
and cocaine
Surviving a hostile conflict where sanity seemed to constantly ebb
then wane
Trite conscripts whose epitaph will read, 'Every battle objective
gained, but the national will could not retain'.
help me if you can, cuz salutary
hans solo impossible missions
fall short asper this mwm to break free,
thus Siam game for heroic measures to wrest
sill loose, gnome hatter
remaining time on Earth
strong arm gull lancing tactics
aye need to vest
from perverted imps stranglehold
upon healthy existence
will resort to extreme thine body electric
(serves as kool aid base sic acid) test
hosting ocd (analogous to a
suckling leech happy fiend)
disallowing this mwm
(similar to Sir Issac Newton) begs to take a rest
nurses nourishment feeding off host
(thyself) linkedin, sans sybaritic symbiotic,
excising unhealthy sycophantic relationship
long term ultimate quest
shucking loose obsessive pest
compulsive disorder moocher
drilled deep into psyche tub billed a nest
which bred a hardy crop that messed
up with my enjoying life tooth ha max,
viz parasitic, opportunistic,
narcissistic fealty must stop lest
asphyxiation undermines ability to jest
as if deadly poison
this chap (as a kid) accidentally did ingest
hence this attempt at plaintive pleading
for mental health professional
took hum at my be hest
a much more welcome guest
versus nemesis grounded rivaling mount Everest
that tis all i write unloading off my chest
an agile, fertile, and nimble sprite
who already out best
this scrivener, now completed poem
confiding bugaboo aye attest.
Form:
Humpty Dumpty, it was not his real name,
A nom de guerre that brought widespread fame.
He played a court jester, amusing the king,
To act the buffoon, and sometimes he'd sing.
But when the king's castle, became under siege,
He pledged his fealty, only unto his liege.
While masquerading as a very large egg,
He secreted inside it, a gunpowder keg.
Then he sat on the battlements, on top of the wall,
Inviting the roundheads to cause him to fall.
Avoiding all slings and the arrows,of impending fate,
He raised both arms in triumph, to celebrate.
Faking demise, played out as if wounded pride,
Head first down the buttress, he started to slide.
The egg broke on impact, but Humpty had gone,
And there on the moat, appeared as a graceful white swan.
As the enemy charged, each claiming the prize,
Humpty had left them with a great big surprise.
An empty egg shell that was all battle scarred.
And a gunpowder keg, his secret petard.
With a flash it exploded, in a cloud of blue smoke,
When the dust settled down, the castle siege had been broke.
They searched for their hero, without one single trace,
But in truth , the king and his jester had big smiles on their face.
7/ 5/ 2018.
I am The Artiste.
I draws lines by cutting carcasses, among other things.
I am the crazed dancer, down pouring a diaspora of red essence and entrails as I sporadically spin.
I am the antagonist; the anti-hero jester with a ricin covered knife.
It’s poisoned point thrusted through regal robes; to rest in the fief, flesh and fealty of the king and his knights.
Making a mosaic of the martyred by combat and tactical subterfuge; again and again enacting battles of attrition.
Each successive version of ourselves adjacent to the next, compartmentalized in seclusive panoramic positions held together by Gravitons.
Vacuumed by a stretched string in infinite dimensions; making an Omni-vector to temper the fool.
Ah but I am the axiom of chaotic-kinetic dynamism; I distort lattices and break symmetry.
I am the Goldstone boson & Majorana fermion, I am the Tachyon.
I command my Pions to intersect and form a Rho.
Regimented in units, they leer over fortified Dirac and Neumann boundaries.
A coalition of rebellious Quasi-patrons; under siege by Gauge Synchronicities and Eigenstates.
But I am still my own worst enemy; myself and my anti-self.
When living in a world reborn on God’s Sword & Shield, many of us are left on edge and apprehensive; but we will always die in God’s heart.
From there after our remains are gestated; by the womb of empty space & silence, the true Matriarch Mother of skies.
A merry band to profer hope in the land
A lute, fiddle, drum to make brigandry grand
A staff, bow, arrow to strafe the noble strand
A sworn oath to lawful king; a sword to gentry's overbearing hand
A pruning staff to fleece corrupt shepherds, who saintly flock's fodder have panned
A bow and arrow to poach servile game from royal tableland
A fealty to nature's law; a license the privileged class to brand
A Kangaroo court dispensing arbitrary justice to tenured gentry in the lowland
A pauper's lease, tattered remnant to expand
A squatter's right, doled penury to remand
An opportunistic syndicate confiscating hoarded supplies to reduce growing demand
A marauding troop of mercenaries liberally sharing their contraband
A providential broker, allocating pilfered alms poverty to withstand
Some say the death penalty is not a matter of fealty
Fealty to Romans Thirteen is what I mean
Some say God is the One to administer
To all matters that are sinister
Again, consider Romans Thirteen, we must
Men are God’s agents to adjudicate justice
The powers that be are ordained
By God in which He makes white what’s stained
He uses us in His master plan
We are His voice, His feet and hands
To eventuate, it’s towards good work
God will punish all who shirk
Shirk their responsibility
To be peaceable towards humanity
So, to say God will punish all
Without Him involving those Whom He calls
Is to misunderstand His original intent
And to hold to an enigma we all invent
“Truly I say” “and God said”
What He expects of a world that’s dead
And what He expects is to rightly divide
And for us to administer justice on this Earthly side
If God is ushered in to this temporal state
That will be the end, (for some) it’ll be too late
God has appointed us to sit at the judgement seat
To deliver those not covered to the devil’s defeat
(Jesus called Peter Satan
Was Peter really Satan?
No, but his actions were satanic
His actions were what sank the Titanic)
How should God uphold His justice
If He doesn’t gesticulate though us?
We are not puppets or automatons
And in God’s will and free will,
all that will be done is done
Dusk dawns noticeably earlier each night in Schwenksville, Pennsylvania - yup
Which trend will continue some days before
winter solstice 2021 in Northern Hemisphere,
Tuesday, December 21 10:58 AM.
Yes, interestingly enough earliest sunset date(s)
along eastern United States
will occur December 7 and 8, 2021 at 4:28 pm EST.
Similar respective phenomena
takes place across globe.
Winter solstice constitutes
shortest day of the year in terms of daylight,
but does not have latest sunrise
nor earliest sunset of the year.
This prevails because discrepancy exists
between modern-day timekeeping methods
and how time is measured
using the Sun known as the equation of time.
The equation of time comprises
east or west component of the analemma,
a curve representing angular offset of the Sun
from its mean position on celestial sphere
as viewed from Earth.
I thoroughly enjoy onset of early darkness
unperturbed courtesy
seasonal affective disorder (SAD).
Alas and alack
matter of fact yours truly
optimally thrives when pitch black
skies immerse bookworm as impetus to crack
open a novel and/or read
one of my favorite (MAD) magazines
versus basking in sunshine which doth distract,
thus I while away hours appeasing
sixty plus shades of gray (cerebral) matter
processing criteria at greased lightning speed
considerably faster than once
venerably touted supreme ENIAC,
whereby mine figurative pistons
incalculably subvert additional
superfluous irrelevant flack
spurring me to burrow
deep inside invisible gunnysack
cause ordinary stress I could not hack
conveniently latched onto
ninety sixties counterculture mantra
"turn on, tune in, drop out"
popularized by Timothy Leary in 1966
essentially only in body not spirit
throughout academic foray,
I occupied space and time
paid dear price, cuz
submissive behavior heavily did impact
writer of these words a jejune Jack,
who during formative years
never dated, nor got jilted
cuz he possessed
unquestioned unhealthy uncanny
fealty and deadly eating disorder
body dysmorphia knack
positive image of self I lack,
an existence punctuated
by one after another panic attack.