Long Ozymandias Poems
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To frolic amongst the daisies and posies is to relish
in the sweet drink of victory over a despicable,
old, and much-sought-after foe.
It is a feeling akin to splashing cold basin water
upon the face after hard work—lips chapped
by sun, sweat, and the long, tired day crowded
amongst them.
Reclaim possession; bring it home.
Long has this expected arrival been awaited;
arrangements have been in accordance with plans
premade for preparations upon this date.
Man dares not tickle the fickle temper of these
sisters of fate. Complaints remain an undertone, and
resentment answers not to “Pardon” on and on again.
In their ever-glow elegance, brilliant
refractions sway off their decadent dress.
Jellyfish patience is slow, a romantic cadence.
Contracting movements make the sway
feel like a swarm in the warmth of the elicit impress.
Time isn’t static; it’s always dynamic.
The flow of time can’t be reversed.
It can only resolve certain issues.
It soothes pain and heals many wounds.
March with it, or else you’ll trail behind.
Does 'Time' really decide?
A decision in time becomes a winning factor.
Wait for time to grab an opportunity.
Not to lose a chance due to impatience.
Don’t be hasty.
It pulls wise Dr. Faustus down.
It can turn heroes into zeros and vice versa.
It does fun with egotists.
What remained for Ozymandias?
Don’t be indecisive like Hamlet.
‘To be or not to be’ will take away lives.
It makes the strongest into feeble
It can break Berlin walls and storm Bastille forts.
It paves path to significant changes.
When the time comes...
Caterpillars transform into butterflies.
Live in the present.
And be a reference for the generation to come.
I HEARD THEY THOUGHT THEMSELVES CIVILIZED
Each grain of gorged sand
civilized people —
themselves owned; owned land.
meanwhile the steeple
looked down at the band
of loquacious stock.
each thought themselves well
in front of the rock.
Ozymandias’ plaque —
bleak headstone of hell!
Cain’s ark had a crack —
offed sand of red sea.
Cornerstone cuts back
the billows — sets free.
7/28/2020
Ozymandias was written by Percy Bysshe Shelley. Here is a couple verses:
My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;
Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
The bible speaks of Jesus:
On his robe and on his thigh he has this name written:
King of Kings and Lord of Lords.
Revelation 19:16 NIV
This Jesus is the stone that was rejected by you, the builders, which has become the cornerstone. And there is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved.”
Acts 4:11-12 ESV
In Exodus 14 verses 21-22
Then Moses stretched out his hand over the sea, and all that night the Lord drove the sea back with a strong east wind and turned it into dry land. The waters were divided, and the Israelites went through the sea on dry ground, with a wall of water on the right and other left.
A warm breeze, its source unknown, yet upon its breath
Carries the scents of my garden, thyme and sage and rose
Moving over warm soil, picking up cricket calls and aromas
Brought to me as I lay in bed, through a window open wide
Tomatoes and grass, full of residual heat from the August sun
Cooling under the pale light of the moon and stars, above
Slumbering, the wind comes and chases dreams through my brain
Like a pack of wild things, running in the halls made up of trees
Images of open spaces, verdant green hills, empty beaches bare
Owls hunting voles, victory in my garden, they cry of their lusts
Slinking feral cats, backyard lions, yowl to the moon in defiance
Sleep translates this mundane to where King Ozymandias reigned
My veggie plot, only grows stunted cherry tomatoes in the corner
The slugs went and ate my eggplant and the aphids suck my roses
The freeway makes a perfume of tar and smoke to bedevil my nose
A hot night and I open my bedroom window to catch some of the air
But in my mind, small things work magic and translate to the epic
When I sleep under the breeze that has blown through my garden
“Great eagerness in the pursuit of wealth, pleasure, or honor, cannot exist without sin.”
Desiderius Erasmus
it’s flesh versus flesh in the pursuit of life,
great kingdoms have been built on rivers of blood,
history knows the fate of knife versus knife,
destiny has it’s own rules for bad and good!
Tiberius’ built wealth with sharpness of sword,
starved to death old Agrippina and her son,
had Germanicus killed by power of word,
he quit throne in fear of assassination!
Caligula lived life of debauchery,
he lost all the wealth that Tiberius had,
he took pleasure in raping and butchery,
was killed by his own army, ending was sad.
Nero was king thanks to Julia his mother,
He executed christians in rage of hate,
he killed his own mother, drowned his step brother,
but he stabbed himself as revolt hit his state.
Christ crucified when Tiberius was king,
St. Peter when Nero was on the throne,
But praise of Jesus and Peter we now sing,
the evil with their wealth have perished unknown.
Morals are not mere words but fabric of truth,
the machinery of god ensures justice,
rewards of old age sprout from good deeds of youth,
wealth has never won, nor greed, nor avarice.
You walk up to the microphone,
it is one of those old-time microphones
that almost hides the face behind it.
We celebrate ‘me’ like Walt the poet did.
I speak for you from behind a curtain
in the land of Ozymandias.
We are ruby slippers
worn by Ramses II who knew
the sum of one.
Percy Bysshe was an odd fish
but the point is not moot,
we are the root language - all of us
coming after the Word.
Behind that overly large microphone
all becomes a poem spoke by a seer,
she foretells of things to come through song.
Michelangelo high up in the gods
paints what he hears;
we who listen share
mystery books with each other.
Blind Roy O, sung for everyone
‘Only the Lonely’ can predict
what everyone knows already.
Man cannot surpass dying—
He cannot live past his own death.
Power fades and falls. Like the tide,
It disappears. "My name is Ozymandias, king of kings, "
Is that not what Shelley's traveller said?
Yet, this infamous statue—a pillar of prowess—
Fell too, just like any other man. For power
Cannot live beyond a man's death. Immortality
Is false; a facade. Nothing can outlast nature
And time herself. Yet, the irony is palpable, for
Rameses II himself may not have survived beyond the grave,
But Shelley's famous poem is still known and read.
Shakespeare's own Romeo and Juliet is still beloved and cherished;
Even London by William Blake is still relevant today.
Is this not immortality? A creator living forever?
But reigns and empires and eras come to an end,
Just like these poets did. And, though we still hang on to their work,
Their influence is not what it used to be.
The day of reckoning
A bird with an enormous wingspan darkened the sky
it was a night of horror in the Middle East.
A new country born in sin and filched land arose
blood ran in ancient, narrow cobblestoned roads.
The people fled over a broken bridge, now live far
from the homeland, the dream of returning is alive.
Young men living in squalor are attracted to Islamists
the grim head cutting people, who know no mercy
know they will win one day, and more blood will flow
Into sand and time.
When everything is forgotten, walls erased, the losers
will flock back to Europa, whence they came.
A crushed light ignored the barrens warped,
The portrait stretched its walled character,
Gambler garments malice of shown marked,
Wakes a loose parley of losers barked,
Drawn drank sense, of the disparager,
The darkened questioned, shaped silhouettes,
Of obscurities merit its due,
Glares moves a heap of token assets,
A lengthened armed shallowed some regrets,
Facedown with cards, the table knew,
Pictured paints like an artful dodger,
The enclosed grows taller than itself,
Outranked and owned outspoken codger,
Last-minute cribbed the homey lodger,
Marmalade sweetens right off the shelf,
A day begets a dawning nightfall,
The narrowed light cast a long shadow,
All turned their backs against the stonewall,
Except for the vague, zoned off-the-wall,
The latent unperturbed sort, John Doe.
The U.N. Building used to be
A place that kids would visit.
Its soaring presence, lined with flags
Seemed awesome and exquisite.
We learned so many facts and of
Its leader, called U Thant.
If kids today are asked to name
His counterpart, they can’t.
The U.N. once seemed powerful
And countries, when invited
To join its ranks were proud to be
A part of those “united.”
But time and circumstance have caused
That unity to ebb,
Its power sapped and trampled
By the so-called “world wide web.”
The tower still remains, a modern
Ozymandias,
A symbol left for history
And students to discuss.