Long Serfs Poems
Long Serfs Poems. Below are the most popular long Serfs by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Serfs poems by poem length and keyword.
Starting from Scratch with Ol’ Scratch
by Michael R. Burch
Love, with a small, fatalistic sigh
went to the ovens. Please don’t bother to cry.
You could have saved her, but you were all tied up
complaining about the Jews to Reichmeister Grupp.
Scratch that. You were born after World War II.
You had something more important to do:
while the children of the Nakba were perishing in Gaza
with the complicity of your government, you had a noble cause (a
religious tract against homosexual marriage
and various things gods and evangelists disparage.)
Jesus will grok you? Ah, yes, I’m quite sure
that your intentions were good and ineluctably pure.
After all, what the hell does he care about Palestinians?
Certainly, Christians were right about serfs, slaves and Indians.
Scratch that. You’re one of the Devil’s minions.
Alexander a Tsar of ideals
A man of heart and noble thought
His mentor, Swiss, Monsieur La Harpe
From childhood, molded to play histories part
He built his armies, to defend his land
His imperial crown and noble lands
Serfs and soldiers, all as one
Napoleons fodder, yet they won
A kind soul, with Christian heart
Ideals inspired by youthful dreams
La Harpes moral guidance did play
Mystical as a musical harp
Onwards in life did this Tsar March
Napoleon was exiled, to an island of defeat
As Cossacks marched along Paris streets
They danced both sides, in freedoms hard won
Josephine and Alex, in the night, dined alone…
The Tsar became Frances golden light
Bringing reforms and Senate into the light
Who would have thought, so long ago
The Tsar of Russia, in Paris did go?
He defended the lands, borders and rights
Giving the Nobility and England a terrible fright
What he feared at home, he endeavored abroad
He was the beginning of visions to be…
Vive la France
La liberté
Peace and Fraternity
Our Holy Alliance
Notes:
The Tsar who defeated Napoleon, written by Marie-Pierre Rey
Where to begin? She did a wonderful job on his biography as well as uncovering original documents in archives, shedding new light on his life.
Yes he marched to Paris
Yes he befriended Josephine the wife of Napoleon, much to the dismay of all.
Yes he endeavored to create a constitutional monarchy
Yes he fought to protect much of Frances borders, feeling that France was a counter weight to the other European powers at the time.
Frédéric-César de La Harpe (born April 6, 1754, Rolle, Vaud, Switzerland — died March 30, 1838, Lausanne, Switzerland) was a Swiss political leader and Vaudois patriot, who played a leading role in the creation of the Helvetic Republic. Was the tutor of Alexander the 1st, and played many would say a key role on the future Tsars actions during his lifetime
~~A chess match is an opaque mirror into societal clash.
Slippery rules and taboos playing upon a checkered past.
Balcony kings and queens glaring down on the lower caste.
Ramparts buttressing crooked flanks, serfs in the murky front.
Devouring dirt, taking the brunt of many skirmishes to come.
Senators riding sky horses, gliding so high above the fight.
Neighing nonsense -fanning their brand of hellfire lies.
Speedy-tongued bishops blitzing on the slanted slide.
In our faces, showcasing only the wrongs of our lives.
Black and white toppling ungracefully to the side.
Flimsy smiles and flint handshakes without dialogue.
Another fiery stalemate on the blazing horizon.
I am a cat, at home I’m Ollie
But fellow cats know real name
“Intrepid Vic”, I dig that, golly
Grey tiger, finest at his game
I am the boss around here
Them humans lacking any wit
In house of mine they live, oh dear
We take up space in even split
They’re sort of fun to be around
I’m free to roam, eat and sleep
They give me hugs, but I may frown
No mucho fondling or I leap!
There’s plenty do around the castle
Lick milk, meow and preen myself
To tug on curtain’s bushy tassel
And jump to kitchens’ highest shelf
To scratch the pole, chase own tail
Lay on keyboard when daddy writes
And have a drink without fail
I love the dripping faucet pipes
This cat hates bathing with a passion
The tongue is all you need, capeeche?
A counter walk is still in fashion
As diet of livers and the fish
Be engine to the cat-drawn carriage
Kids want to have for their doll
I play good sport, so I can manage
Paw dinner meat and have a ball!
To walk around, rubbing lightly
Against the people and the turfs
Affection? Nay, we rather rightly
Stake claim to lands, you naive serfs
The backyard run is fun and game
Chase birds and squirrels sans result
Stop screaming your approval, dame
I brought you mouse, not insult!
The fight with neighbors’ cat is tricky
We hate each other, what a schmuck
And stray feline escapes the quickie
Love interest gone, I’m out of luck
Then watch TV about tabbies
High time to purr enjoying snack
Dive into fishbowl acting grabby
Ascend the tree for doggie pack
Kids drive me crazy with a laser
I drive them nuts by hiding mum
Love being family’s hell-raiser
At times I’m meek but never dumb
A blade of grass to treat a sickness
Do know exactly what I need
And have that fur to show for slickness
“Meow the kitties!” is my creed
To plan a day some quiet time
I need in total solitude
Slink into curve ball for bedtime
Wake humans early for my food
This life’s intense and full of peril
And so much fun, it’s cats’ delight
Plans for tomorrow? They are feral
I have to sleep on them tonight
© 2022
Bus drivers and plumbers
don’t start the wars
The nurse or school teacher
too busy inured
What’s common among us
with tasks to withstand
The elected entitled
our blood on their hands
Without a real job
and whose terms don’t expire
They poison the well
with aggrandizements dire
To them it’s a game
that they cannot lose
Their voters just pawns
in a continual ruse
But one day the reaper
with sickle in hand
Will come to reclaim
what’s stolen bedamned
And the serfs will rise up
in an infamous rage
The despots left burning
—their ashes in shame
(Radnor Pennsylvania: June, 2023)
Some other times I thought
Where does life turns to us?
Is it nobles wearing Gold shoes?
Or the serfs in rag that's loose?
Some other times I thought
People whose life are lost
Doubted sin, innocent beings
Brutally maimed just in a blink
Some other times I thought
Life is a cause for curse
People can't live in their very best
So they rather hid sweats under wares
Some other times I thought
People that are in fear of lose
Love, lifes, virtues that are dearest to them
And in cares and tears wanting someones help
I thought, I think, still hopes
When would life have a thought?
Of many heart broken, lovelorn
Who once again still wishes joy.
King 'Enry of The 'Ouse of Tudor ruled merrie olde England, the mighty and the meek.
'E was quite obese in 'is elder years and threw 'is weight around - so to speak!
'E governed from 1509 'til 1549 when 'e expired and began 'is eternal bourne.
Though 'e slept around a lot, nary a male heir for 'is regal throne was born!
With virgin maidens and other guy's wives, 'twas a promiscuous life 'e led,
Though 'e eventually wooed a strange assortment of royal wives to 'is bed!
'E 'ad six of 'em, which would've left even the most virile of men in a daze!
'E soon tired of each and 'e dispensed with them in various and sundry ways!
Both Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard were destined to lose their 'eads!
Catherine of Aragon and Catherine Parr died of mysterious causes in their beds.
Jane Seymour and Anne of Cleves died from natural causes it is said as well.
'Twas rumored that 'Enry played golf as bells tolled each of their deathly knell!
'Enry got in a spat with the Pope of Rome which resulted in 'is excommunication.
This involved among other things 'is cavalier attitude in matters of domestication!
'E got in a towering snit and formed the Church of England as it is known today.
This 'ad all of not so merrie olde England in an uproar but 'Enry 'ad 'is way!
'Enry ruled with a fist of iron - serfs and gentry as well learned to toe the line!
'E died due to an old jousting wound and 'is fondness for food and wine!
'E was only fifty-five when in Windsor Castle 'e was laid out in repose.
'E was sent on 'is way with great pomp and ceremony as the olde saying goes!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 15 in Deborah Guzzi's "Sista's Bloody Sista's" Contest - October 2010
Eighty years ago the Austrian School economist
Friedrich von Hayek observed;
“Fascism is the stage reached
After communism has proved an illusion.”
Simply because he could see
The Road to Serfdom
Happening before his eyes.
The dream of international socialism
Eventually always settles
Into the reality of national socialism
Because like with all creatures
The State’s will to survive is paramount.
The Italians may have discovered it first,
But then the great dictators of the 20th century
All took it up
From Mussolini to Lenin, Stalin,
FDR, Hitler and Mao,
All keeping themselves well armed
And their peoples housed and fed
By keeping the golden goose
Of capitalism alive and well
And securely contained.
Three’s a charm proved to be true
When it came to socialism
As the Third Way economic system
Of the union of Big Government and Big Business
With the government firmly in the driver’s seat
Proved irresistible.
Now all that was needed
Was to remove the Big Man from the mix
To let it run freely without need of a dictator
Or at least a visible one.
Puppets come and go as do their masters
But the system lives on
Morphing with the times
Growing ever bigger and more charming
With every generation
Of its hopeful serfs
Dreaming of a future that will never come.
(11/9/25)
periodontal disease the bane
of *****Sapiens,
and many a canine species
such as Great Dane
or an alien pet smart tumblr trying to feign
bing the best faux pas footed friend
to kind hearted primates of man kind,
which latter perhaps an aristocratic
Anglo Saxon overlord
generously re pay hay'n
his/her diligent indentured serfs,
and more importantly air
unlimited pro bono dental care
at Ivy League storied University of Pennsylvania
School of Dentistry
which demonstrably crafts aspiring
reputable Dentists,
many anon dis track did Engineer
or among other additional
competitive uber pursuits
nonetheless, said accredited blessed charges
per this institution of higher learnin'
paying back every single buck
renown for plethora of duck
quacking supremely smart graduated students
drooling to bark out
bone a fide intelligence fluct
chew waiting genius stratosphere
comprising grueling vetting process
scoring acceptance,
a combination menu demanding
eminent genetic luck
incorporating top notch
flying colors and pluck
initial pre admission screening interview
(from prospective students
leaving a positive first impression stuck
thru rigorous quizzing presentation paces),
which gauntlet on par with Olympic ardor
assiduously, modestly,
swimmingly convincing board
with collective listening ear
comprising decision makers, judging fair
how fated genetic sprig wrought
(from imponderable hereditary blend his/her
that above average intelligent head gear
to be applied at afore
mentioned die hard lessons here
trials and tribulations didst ap pear
at timely juncture at me then young life
This is a verse, not a song,
Let's gaze on the face of Agamemnon,
For ten years, he had stayed away,
Finally, he arrived home one day,
Yes, away to Troy he'd roamed,
The warrior king made it home,
But, he had been playing away,
His Queenie had a bad hair day,
Her axe did have a double blade,
As in her spa, she made him lay,
She drugged his wine, a loving cup,
Then proceeded to chop him up!
Off with his feet, for roaming so far,
Queenie really messed up her spa,
Off with his cheating hands,
He brought home his ho's from foreign lands,
Off with his attachments, you can guess what that meant,
Shoved them in his mouth,
as his head went south,
"Feed him to the swine!
It's pig feeding time!"
She yelled at the serfs,
"That cheating dud got his desserts!"
Queenie was having a bad hair day,
Warrior king had been playing away,
But, Queenie had a toyboy anyway,
She always kept smiling,
Looked for the silver lining,
Queenie's wealth was a'piling,
She was a keeper,
Old king now a sleeper,
Queen kept the kids, gold and slaves,
She did get hers one day,
Yes, Queenie kept the lot,
Or was it all a plot?
Queenie's bad hair day,
Warrior king had been playing away,
This is verse, not a song,
Let's gaze at the face of Agamemnon!