The journey of souls
Pay homage to rebellion
Like mongol queens
The prophet drinks medicinal tea
Harnessing the power of now
Resting in the seat of his soul
The argonauts battle
They fight through the wasteland
And commit murder in the cathedral
The spirit’s apprentice
Tends to the soul
And lathers the oil that heals
Leaves fall gently
The birds are all dying
The journey of souls
Pay homage to rebellion
Categories:
mongol, dream, journey, romantic, soulmate,
Form: Free verse
Ravagers of Poesy,
spear points of denial
Mongol hordes of fancied verse,
spewing dense and vile
Free words they herd together,
to drive toward a cliff
Trampled once they hit the ground
—by verbal hippogriffs
(Buffalo Jump-Sheridan Wyoming: July, 2019)
Categories:
mongol, words,
Form: Rhyme
Wildlife 46
A hairy and weird smelling yak,
Lay watching the sky on his back,
A Mongol called Kurt,
Yelled abuse from his yurt,
So he shouted back "Cut me some slack!!"
Categories:
mongol, animal, funny,
Form: Limerick
Marvels of the World I wrote.
Fantina, Bellela and Moretta will gloat.
These are my three daughters who kept me afloat.
They never did accompany me on travels or boat.
I saw the Mongol Empire and China too.
Recorded my exotic exploits and travels in 1292.
My books number over thirty-two.
So many to some, but so little to a few.
I was a trade, an explorer and writer in my day.
Christopher Columbus asked for advice along the way.
I met my true love Donata in the month of May.
What else could I tell you? What else could I say?
I traveled The Silk Road and met Kublai Khan.
He got an enormous kick about the road I was on.
Some of my original writings are totally gone
But some of the stuff is as brilliant as any sweet swan.
I only wrote about half of what in my travels I saw.
I traveled to China and Japan, and I was totally raw.
I drew some pictures, but I do not really cleverly draw.
One thing for sure, I stayed on my toes, and was always in awe!
Categories:
mongol, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form: Rhyme
Tootle Lou met the gang at the McDonalds by the sea,
She shambled in with pants too big and stains for all to see.
We chewed and swallowed but never tasted,
Brain receptors craving stuff that Tootle Lou had wasted.
A carnal exchange that blew on a dime;
For that, it is true, she was always on time.
One after the other, our loads made our minds.
It was later in the decade that I opened the blinds.
Tootle Lou has a baby -- a spawn not of this earth:
Rings in her nose, unwashed hose, a pain she can't desert.
Come one, come all, and abuse her,
User after user.
Tootle Lou reads poetry -- her voice is smart and sad.
A pretty face lies buried in a made-up, phony fad.
No prince of old is coming to slay the Mongol hordes.
Tootle Lou is a friend in need, and no friend shall I abhor.
That day I came to need her, she was lost in powdered fluff.
Her eyes I'm sure they saw me, but her mind was in the rough.
Her perfumed arms I warmly held while lifting up her head.
My Tootle Lou was smiling. My Tootle Lou was dead.
Categories:
mongol, abuse, addiction, friendship, grief,
Form: Narrative
Oh God!
When this state be free
And an independent kingdom again!
India, a hypocrites’ country, is a Power,
And although we are famous for being straightforward
But, a small nation, in Arms and Weopens we are very weak.
Otherwise, now tired of Double-talk Dialogues and humiliating
Invitations for Talks,
We’d make it, in a violent war in air.
And an another aggressive Muslim state,
Pakistan (land of the pure!) has kept us captive, there,
Across the nonsensical border,
And gifted a part, of us, to its Mongol friend!
And Shame on their living!
These petty politicians in this Indian election time
Are frequenting this forgotten village street.
Some scared of a villain Indian minister,
Others, licking her feet, a widow woman politician.
While others immature, in the nights' dark,
On the roadside walls, are propagandizing for Pakistan.
Ah Alas!
All great politicians are gone,
Like prophets, painters and poets,
These modern high standard schools
Can not create.
Categories:
mongol, political,
Form: Free verse
Limerick: Once Steppes Chief Mongol in a loose hose
Once Steppes Chief Mongol in a loose hose
Tried to jump Great Wall with horse and Rose
Horse kicked hole in hose goal
Chief bored hole in the Wall
Guess who licked Rose red-in-the-nose?
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
MERRY XMAS to ALL Soupers !
Categories:
mongol, humorous,
Form: Limerick
It's Saturday morn and I want to sleep
When I hear that SLAM that makes me jump to my feet.
The kids are awake and know no bounds
The whole house shakes with SLAMMING door sounds.
Now I'm upset that they have ruined my rest
So I SLAM the bedroom door to show I can do it best.
"Your Dad must be awake boys..." I hear the cry
SLAM goes the door as the kids come inside.
They come charging up the stairs like the Mongol horde
SLAM goes their bedroom door as they say not a word.
I am so mad now I have criss-crossed eyes
I reach for the doorknob but am SLAMMED in surprise.
The wife came up to see how I felt
SLAMMED the door on my head which raised such a welt.
"Oh, did I hurt you?" she asked carefully
"No", said I, "but that SLAMN door bit me!"
Categories:
mongol, funny, imaginationslam, slam,
Form: Couplet
I asked him to drape me
in saffron robes
embossed with his magic,
he employed the staff of truth
and strobed my sight against time
I arose from sleep a maiden
and now,
return to slumber a warrior,
my flanks were beaten in the fray
and my sword lost,
but as blood trickled down my forehead
fear brought a gift from the ancients
~~~
I’ve cut my hair
and shaved my head,
a mongol
armored for war
my mouth tangs
incessantly
and I can taste blood
Categories:
mongol, health, imagination
Form: Free verse
I asked him to drape me
in saffron robes
embossed with his magic,
he employed the staff of truth
and strobed my sight against time
I arose from sleep a maiden
and now,
return to slumber a warrior,
my flanks were beaten in the fray
and my sword lost,
but as blood trickled down my forehead
fear brought a gift from the ancients
~~~
I’ve cut my hair
and shaved my head,
a mongol
armored for war
and my taste buds tang
I can discern blood
Categories:
mongol, fantasy, war
Form: Blank verse
Death to the tyrant, we’ll pull out his nails,
We’ll round up his cronies and tuck ‘em in gaol.
His wife and his spawn will be put to the test,
Their lives will depend on the word of the rest.
For the crimes he’s committed, we’ll blacken his name,
His head on a spike and it won’t be in vain.
Justice is coming, to startle the pig,
He’ll swing from the gallows as we dance a jig.
Revenge is our engine and blood is our fuel,
This tyrant, this despot who thinks you’re a fool,
He’ll wake up one morning, knee deep in his grit,
You know he deserves it, down to the last bit.
Who will defend him, this cretin from hell?
Why the asses that made him and sold you his spell.
For these sucks were planning a day of delight,
We’ll boil them in oil and take joy in their plight!
So death to the tyrant and all he conveys,
This cretin, this Mongol, has seen his last day!
Categories:
mongol, allegory
Form: I do not know?