Short French Revolution Poems
Short French Revolution Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about French Revolution by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about French Revolution by length and keyword.
Jean Baptiste Greuze truth to tell
his art stories are still known well
The French revolution was his downfall
dying in poverty his final call
Robespierre, Danton and all of those
crazy French revolution 'heroes'
had thousands guillotined
by La Machine that gleaned
heads; then 'offed' their own midst their wild throes.
we're in a cafe and he's unsure if he can
finish his slice of CAKE, one of those
fondant numbers and so we've made an arrangement
which will allow me to consume half of it
but then, "dad, i actually think i can finish it."
i get a message from a friend asking how are the kids today
i reply like what i make of the french revolution;
it's too early to tell
French Revolution
and the heads that rolled,
did not get old,
just crimson in the barrel,
revolution warmed, Napolean dawned,
Europe burned in bloody hell...
The slaughter of war that man abhors
the French had their turn in the barrel,
they suffered a hundred years later, in the great world wars,
the balance sheet parallel….
Don Johnson
Inspired by John Smith
Unlike tricoleuse knitting room –
I hadn’t much fun by light of moon.
The crows at dawn abated soon.
I fairly swoon – I fairly swoon.
*tricoleuse: One of a number of women who sat knitting while attending public executions during the French Revolution. (3 syllables per Howmanysyllables, but no stressed syllable identified)
Famously referred to in A Tale of Two Cities, by Charles Dickens
After the tides
After the French revolution
After the mannish history
After a feminine geography
After a long career in woman politics
After the boredom
After the wine
After all the complements I made
After the poetry I wrote
And the few verses wrote to me
After all the flood of kisses
After the national disaster
After pouring out all the anger
I made plan for a new trip
To an unknown continent
Where I do not crave poetry
And my poems do not crave me.
Form:
Our great motherland
Called the giant of Africa
With the shadow of an ant
And the night of an earthworm
On her way to glory.
Led 'magnificently' by the thieves
Ex-convicts,murderers and mad men;
Our souls they've reduced to slush
And our spirits have been 'sharpvilled'
For revenge.
The French revolution
Should be played in our motherland
In the hope that our 'magnificent' leaders
Be thoroughly eliminated from us
And a new dawn we await for our motherland.
Fete Nationale finally came about on July 14th 1789
When the commoners stormed the Bastile so fine.
Their crops had failed that summer, and it went to their head.
They were spending ninety-percent of their salary on bread
The Tyranny of King Louis the Fourteenth was not sliding by
His wife was lavishly spending, and they owned the gun power supply.
Prisoners were being locked up in the Bastile with no trial whatsoever.
So the French Revolution was started – a worthwhile endeavor.
Freedom, equality and brotherhood
In the french revolution had happen should
But led simply to build a guillotine.
Not even Robespierre his head save could.
Newborn people of world has a bloodline
Which marks her/him to be ugly or fine
No equality or brotherhood are acting now
No real freedom or Justice can destine.
It’s time to change and reach a splendid glow
The hateful racism outlaw to throw
We are all equal, free and fraternal too
It’s time for mankind a spiritual grow.