Short Serf Poems

Handsome wages flow,
status lofty, prestige gleams —
office drone enslaved....

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the farmer
master of his kingdom
when not feeling the serf



posted on August 3, 2018...

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Good governance?
With all those killings?
And wish for potent alliance;
Then be a serf of sham dealings.

10.13.16...

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True love will always make one cry
For like all else, it soon must fly
From serf to King
True love takes wing
When Caesar sees her seizure sigh...

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The poets sing of it.
The artists worship it.
We seek it in gardens,
find it in dreams.
I shrink from the mirror
because I’m a slave to it;
a serf to beauty’s tyrannous queen....

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To have conceived you as mine

                                 To have chosen a princess for a serf

To have made my imperfections whole in you

                                 God must be a lover....

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Great lion who once ruled the land,
you are a serf to your lord.
Gone is your kingdom where you reigned.
You now serve new masters these days.
You fell from your once proud throne.
Your home is now humble and plain.
Among those who serve, you’re not alone.
...

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What a grate dey it is
Sonny whether and awl
Let's wring in Spring Brake   
Thyme for fun, half a bawl.  

Cum on, let's get aweigh
and lei on the beech
reed books by the serf
sea and bee scene.

Wheel watch waives bye the peer
Whet hour feat and hour tows
Ewe just mite meat Mr. Write
Theirs a chants, who nose?




Written on 3/23/2015...

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I see we have a new king
Just how did this come around?
Did he pull a sword from a rock?
Or did angel send him
to alight upon the ground?

Just what Kingdom do you rule?
Am I a subject too?
A serf to serve your pleasure?
Ne'er ever else to do?

I have a counter-proposal,
You be a Duke instead...
And take that silly crown,
Off your swollen head!!...

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Out of the gulf came a voodoo child
spawned from the depths of hell,
And cast upon this melting pot
her black magic spell.
And the voodoo child she watches
her dark potion swell
To envelop and engulf the 
poor serf and peasant.
Now the dead of the past 
greet those of the present,
And form their bonds 'neath
the citie's pale crescent.
And the voodoo child she cackles and
twirls her feathers of fowl and pheasant....

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~ To the tune of
       Home on the Range ~


     O, take me way back
     Where no one attacked
     The King, for fear
     his head he would lack

     Where seldom was heard
     a sound or a word
     that wasn't worshiping
     The King, That Monster, The King

     Home, home for a serf
     A straw hut on a hard piece of turf
     He'd better behave
     And work like a slave
     and never make one tiny wave...

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Grandson discovered a magical land called, "under the bed".
Unearthing a tin of jingling coins. 
I told him:
"The Big one is the king; all the rest are serfs".  
He looked at me baby baffled, then let out a baby burp...
Without warning, he tried popping a serf into his mouth.
I pried it from his tiny mitt, and he cried.
so, I soothed him with a little lullaby..
~Little king-little king always love the serfs.
A good king would never eat the serfs. ~...

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A meter maid I’ve never been
But Deb’s convinced me I have sinned
So now I write this verse for her
With hopes her wrath I won’t incur

“Defrost” is said as de’ frost here
The South is different, it’s so clear
Sur-re’-al sometimes sounds sur-eel’
But what means more is how I feel

About a poem and what it says
If written by a serf or prez
My meter’s time is running out
This WAS a strain, beyond a doubt


*LOL :)  Entry for the Meter Contest
Iambic Pentameter...

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