Weren’t you lucky, up to time of your blood thirsty war,
Russian sports, especially gymnasts and ballet at the fore,
Gave your presidency of Russia somewhat of a credit,
Hopefully with Western sanctions you’ll swim in debit
And, as for the Patriarch of your Russian Orthodox Church
Strange bedfellows you are, so odd,
You Putin, and your puppet Patriarch, will one day face God.
Categories:
patriarch, god,
Form: Rhyme
i walk among the tombstones
all my elders have gone on ahead
and have left me
i have become
the patriarch
of our clan
walking with me
are the ghosts of our past
memories echoing through my mind
guiding me along the roads I walk
this is no title I have strived to achieve
but i'm the eldest now
the ghosts remind me
of my duty to my ancestors
and my decendents
I am the old guard now
all eyes are upon me
watching
wondering
when I will go on ahead
the tombstones call me
this winter wind has chilled me
I cant get warm
Categories:
patriarch, family,
Form: Free verse
Well you are the Patriarch of My Heart
For many moons now you've had me
Under your spell...I wonder if you somehow
Overheard that old, old wish of mine standing
By that big 'ole magic wishing well who
Knows for sure but now you are my only
Reason for being and with every beat of my
Heart I love you more and more I swear don't
You know I'd die if I ever lost your love but
I dare not dwell on such a, I thank my lucky
Stars and Heaven above...only in my wildest
Dreams did I ever dream I'd find someone as
Wonderful as you but now you are living
Proof dreams do come true it's now I know
They do oh Patriarch, Patriarch of My Heart!
Categories:
patriarch, emotions, feelings, happiness,
Form: Free verse
He dwells in her mind
He captures her feelings, dreams
He commands her thoughts
Categories:
patriarch, passion,
Form: Haiku
some say the limbs of trees are telling chapters
a pinecedars verse in still measure.
some say a branch can speak as it splinters.
with cinders regognizable for seedling faith.
now pineconed buddha's roll around me
with secrets inclosed in thier bellies
telling me that i look like you.
those same lines round the eyes,
photosynthetic daylight seeking.
with stone marrow to fortify the roots,
structure the face and weather the brow.
twenty nine growth ringed years
past the hardened visage of you
with that bottle in your hand.
you were a pinecone patriarch
that did not germinate in me but die.
Categories:
patriarch, me, me,
Form: I do not know?