Short Warlord Poems
Short Warlord Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Warlord by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Warlord by length and keyword.
tithes, alms, to atone for lies and murder,
warlord, the kind provider,
feeling saved all over !
a choice without voice
in mental friction
to quell warlord spells
with true conviction
that lies shall disguise
our benediction
as force changes course
towards interdiction.
Steaming fire and ice
Glomming armour and vice
A royal defence force
A charging horse
He’s sire
Knighted Sir.
A messiah
My hero
A skilled warlord
Conqueror of worlds
His regal sword
The last word
Libertas in the hands of warlords,
natural hardship, in the name of war,
License to kill.
For those who can gain lots,
obtained legislative favor,
overall pattern of bill.
Even rogue army cords.
In the end of guns gore,
Bloody warheads refill.
As warlord of the ticking count…
time marches uncontested
Avoiding every scrutiny,
defending every lie
All seasons caught within its grasp,
each day a slave in training
Order becoming disorder again
—complexity denied
(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2019)
Small visions
Staggering insolence
muted souls pinned by vertebral thrusts
lay in feathered wasteland
Spinning tongues imperial platitudes
Right of passage misguided
impenetrable to the bone
The shake-up
Sharks teethe to flesh
an agent of defilable means
It scathes the soul
of the inveterate, the young
and feasts upon its own.
Why don’t we go
For a vacation to Mogadishu
This year
If you know where to find it on the map
You can raise vegetables
In a minefield
Or attend the birthday party of a warlord
Machine gun fire for dessert
Half of Mogadishu is on the run
To a better life
Sometimes people return to their home
If they can find it
In a crater
With a cluster bomb lawn
Brave Samurai Knight
your Warlord, Itso, waits you.
Your ancestors cry
out for revenge against Mau.
Defend your family's
honor for all weep at what
Mau has done to our
land making us his servants.
Take your sword now knight
and avenge your father' name.
Your grandfather waits
in his grave to see you fight
and restore his house
to its former place of pride.
Itso waits for you.
Knight, this thing you need to do!
The moon was moving
stealthily in wilderness.
Time was running out
tracing the shape.
I let her go, the
comely thing, putting on
hold, the teetering
poem.
Running faster than light, the
words catch you in midstream.
A warlord wants to put on
a helmet in night.
It was raining sparks and
cinders. You walk along the
redoubts, obliterating
simmering footsteps.
I am not a loser
dancing in the pit of snakes.
Bring the sweetness of venom.
I am alive.
Satish Verma
An Orchid in the forest, shoots forth.
All things, all things will grow as they should.
And so the time, the time becomes the thing.
The measure of all that we might know to
what we might become.
Emblem and symbol always pale
when compared to the lotus fully formed.
Every warlord passed has dropped to knee
when survival brings them to
a fresh bloom of life. ~TH~
(a spontaneous poem inspired by an illustration by Ryan Heshka. http://wrongwaywriteway.com)