Long Ozymandias Poems
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One must imagine Sisyphus’s
boulder, marble-sized these days
And Ozymandias’ plaque,
spinning despair into praise
Look on, ye hypocrites,
and sneer at my undoing
Your universe is a giant sandpit,
entropy accruing
Their legacies long crumbled,
eroded by rust
Gods built the wrong way,
on scaffolds of dust
Virtue or vice register
equally the same
Except between stars,
there’s space for one more grain
Down here, we clock in daily,
stack hours like prayer
Worship strong Wi-Fi,
evangelize on thin air
Imagine heavenly echoes,
because the silence isn’t fair
Some develop connection,
others a thousand-yard stare
Our Earth splits naturally,
along seismic lines
Greenwich claims centre stage,
only for the meantime
Sisyphus, still aching,
gets an epidural at last
But only in hindsight,
for his hump blocks the past
Redrawn are our own lines,
watchtowers in the sand
Sketching new borders,
carving up the promised land
Exhume ancient treasure,
and black, viscous stuff
Addicted to all things buried,
as if our dead weren’t enough
Still we write blindly,
tracing glyphs already faded
Helps lift the mood
when depressed and jaded
Gods stand on shaky ground,
myth holds them together
In schisms that bind billions,
then sever forever
Oh, look on—ye poet
Sisyphus now rolls his eyes
He’s seen the apps, wars,
hoodies, and cable ties
His hamster wheel’s a meme
for gods who merely try
Small wonder he mutters,
at least Ozymandias gets to die
And sometimes I pray to gods,
or maybe their ghosts
About versions of me
I’ve been missing the most
They don’t directly answer,
but do leave this guess
In the end, to keep on rolling
may be my passing success
By David Kavanagh
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.
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.
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.
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.
Gazing into the heavy eyelids of the sun
In the sacred silence of the dusk
Through a route obscure and lonely
I walked on until reached before a grave yard
My thoughts curled round the forgotten tombs
Where the dead remain anonymous as dust,
And sleep dreamless through years,
Where wind whistles through heap of bones.
Here, Death sits on his imperial throne,
Mocking at the relics of human glory
Zealous with the task of clearing out the old,
To make way for the incoming ones
Marked by moss grown grave stones
Here each life is a volume closed down,
To be cast aside and eventually forgotten,
Or locked forever in the annals of time!
‘Round that colossal decay’, I stood sad
Thinking of Shelley’s Ozymandias!
__________________
~Placed Sixth~
June.28. 2022
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile.5.Poetry Contest
Sponsor:Mark Toney
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It's a primary clock of tick-tock;
brief time-travel is what you can make.
Anything can necessarily be changed in and for
just a few seconds.
Certainly, lives may unravel,
living life as a movie with a second take.
"Misremembering" becomes a thing.
Challenging what was done is done.
Eliminating what we thought was a mistake.
Creating misery for others, just for fun.
Mayhem only for mayhem's sake.
Now that we exist in this short world
of now and then,
the longer world of why and when
cannot survive.
And we will have vague memories of when
we used to be alive.
Lost in this Little, big world
Of nightly sweats
I see a road sign that diverts
My attention to swerve
Away and Wake up
From the Reality around me ...
I just need a break
From it all, for awhile
My eyes cross as I reach
For the Blue something or other
Ahaed of me
I stop time for real this time
Because it’s my time, me time
To be real but not really
Because I feel like I’m dreaming
With my eyes wide open
And everything seems so strange
Around me as if
God is trying to get my attention
Somehow
And for some reason everything
Smells like plastic
Leaving a metal aftertaste in my mouth ...
I hear music in the distant clouds
And my stomach rumbles like thunder
Perhaps I’m hungry for something new
Something different
Where the earth beneath me is putty
Sucking me in and averting my attention ...
Reminding me
I am Grateful to be Alive.
Halloween has come and gone
But some haunting will linger on
El dia day has passed on, too
But like the ghosts still passing through
The seen and unseen in between
The last scene last seen now has, too
We're counting each trip 'round the sun
From the day where we've begun
Our paltry trip around this orb
Delighting in what we absorb
But counting is a trick of man
Presuming each click measures span
Of something that's of great import
That turns the time into a sport
And in the greater game some know
The clock we consult here below
Is an invention we hold dear
Which only counts in this small sphere
Not deserving of real mention
Is our cosmology convention
The Cosmos doesn't count, just is
Not bothered by some fleeting whiz
Or sweep of hand… no passing man
Will count in all that really IS
Life is an interesting phenomenon
Everyone talks about it.
But who knows about it completely?
Is it so difficult to be fathomed?
Having said that it’s not bizarre to comprehend.
All scriptures teach the logics of life.
But the journey of life provides one to make it out better.
If so, why should we read those sacred teachings?
They are the documental evidences
Make us get convinced with what we experience.
But experience is not mandatory to learn so many things.
What does the pedestal of Ozymandias speak?
But what is remained there?
The dangling hands of Alexander the Great teach the noblest truth.
The bloodshed of the Kalinga war transformed Asoka the Great.
Arishadvarga, the six enemies exist in every mind.
There is no exception to any mortal.
They stay in dormant state.
When evil impressions intensified, they unfurl their wings.
Fulfilling desires adds colors to life.
The more you want the more you get tangled and life becomes a Gordian tie.
"Desires are the root cause of all sufferings," Lord Buddha said.
We come and go with empty hands.
Give your best during your sojourn on this platform.
Agape love alone brings the lasting happiness.
Now that we are here
Let's carry forward the call -
“May Ben Adhem’s tribe increase!”
PLACED : 1st
Now that we are here Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker
Date: 27-03-2023