( a poem inspired by Lozen, a female Apache warrior)
Her blood boils just like a mans
Her thirst for honor , the way she stands
She refused to bow
She refused to cower
Her bloodlust was justified
As the shield of her valor
Against the greatest odds
She knew no fear
She supported and fought along side her brother, chief
For so many years
A brilliant strategist
She outsmarted U.S. military might
She left a blood trail behind her
And her people's freedom in her sights
Never humbled, never kneeled
Never really defeated, never to yield
I am inspired by her strenth and for freedoms' right
That no man was her equal in battle and in life.
Four characters make the fantastic team,
after cosmic rays exposure in the outer space
on an experimental probing mission,
each member acquires unique prodigious abilities.
Fantastic Reed, the leader, a virtuoso scientist
and a shape-shifter intellectual strategist,
his wife Sue, with empowered invisibility weaves
force-fields as formidable defense asset.
Her younger hot-headed brother, Johnny, the human torch,
turns into flame and a blaze in flight.
Reed’s best friend, Ben, the thing, a mutated rock-skinned
superhuman monstrous powerhouse with a tender heart.
The Fantastic Four's adventures involve
exploration of the different spatial aspects,
roaming with fortitude through dimensions,
in the uncharted regions of the universe,
from the Negative Zone to the stellar space,
facing and dealing with cosmic and evil threats,
as a family team, dynamic albeit dysfunctional,
amalgamated by interpersonal relationship and solidarity.
An iconic and long-term segment of Marvel comics,
its impact extending beyond comics into other storylines,
The Fantastic Four are more than superheroes,
they are the first family of the Marvel Universe.
Amidst the splendor of a grand estate
Four cats of regal blood did rule with grace
Each one adorned with fur of the finest state
And eyes that shone with wisdom in their face.
The first, a stately Siamese in white
A cunning strategist, a fierce defender
Her piercing gaze could strike with deadly might
A warrior queen, no foe could surrender.
The second, a Persian of royal breed
A creature of elegance and charm
Her soft meows could bring a king to knead
And soothe the troubled heart with calming balm.
The third, a Scottish Fold, so dainty and gentle
Spurs could melt a heart of stone
A diplomat, she kept the peace complete
And smoothed out conflicts with her gentle tone.
The fourth, a Bengal with a fiery soul
A wildcat at heart, untamed and free
Her agile moves could make the bravest cower
And in her presence, all would bow the knee.
Four cats of royal lineage and might
In harmony, they ruled with all their might.
*Image of Squirrel Red Standing by Pixabay.
Squirrelly Strategist
Nutty crusaders
who balances work and play~~
back (yard) performers
2022 January 31
*4th Place*
Squirrel Haiku
~~Robert James Liguori: Judged 2022 February 02
Thoughts raised questions,
mysteries lead to discoveries.
Nyquist’s analog signal digitalization,
led to the electronic world modernization.
The door to victory is never known.
Opportunities towards success could be blown.
Choosing a path already chosen,
is safe yet done by a dozen.
But a road – not – taken is freshly paved,
which an opportunist considers being plagued.
Victory being unbiased,
could be claimed by an Ant or an Elephant.
A loser who is well bred,
shall rise and shine against any opponent.
Failures obscure a path well led,
leading to the novel achievement
A strategist sets to sail,
without dropping an anchor on failing.
Rowing through storms and paddling,
through the wrath without bailing.
The forest of success,
where flora and fauna are in million.
strategist encountering ferocious lion,
to grab a dandelion,
who dares to use a Venus fly trap,
as his guide map.
These are the life lessons of wildlife,
Engraving wounds of memories like a knife.
A winner with pumping adrenaline first crosses the finish line.
Loser slips the borderline,
racing to create the headlines.
She’s new at playing the game
So doesn’t know the fancy moves
Or any of the intricacies
Of a Machiavellian strategist
But still she relishes in the wait
In the suspense as well as in the action
Inventing scenes and scenarios
Setting the stage
Scheming and imagining
Throwing his way creative challenges
Submitting him to obstacles
To see if he would measure up
It’s a subtle yet ferocious sport
Full of subtle disguises
Strings and guiles
Every square inch worth the gamble
posted on November 11, 2017
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
"I am my own strategist,"
Our President proudly said
Pushing the Panic Button
Poignantly painted RED
"The mother of all bombs
Will fill Putin with dread
Assad will be so grateful
I chose Afghans instead
Let North Korea tremble
Their many left unfed
Will shortly have no worries
Because they'll all be dead
I am my own strategist
I see the way ahead
Our nation will be great again
Just like I always said!"
Contest for Richard Lamoureux
What does this man mean to me?
A face in the world I will never see.
We are probably alike,
we might even hit it off.
He's got eclectic taste and no condescending scoff.
No judgement in his eyes
but wonder in his soul
looking for poetic alms donated in his bowl.
Is he passionate, free of sin?
what percolates in his mind within?
I don't think a thousand poems could give you a glimpse
of the depth of thought this stranger thinks.
You are not a person who easily fatigues,
and for many who meet you
posses great intrigue.
Maybe you don't recognize as much in yourself
and that's why you ask everyone else.
You command language,
have a strategist mind,
observe how pieces fit together,
you can be humorous and kind.
You know who you are,
but maybe there is a doubt
and that's why, try as we may,
will anyone truly figure you out?
You are a sadistially
twisted
A 5 star strategist
Utilizing
psychological
warfare
Methodically
weaving your
weapons of
mass destruction
An artillery that
penetrated my psyche
Leaving me confused
by your stealth
and deception
Maneuvering me
into believing
that I was nothing
Poisoning my mind
with your strong
defense position
You are a trained
artillery in the use
of suprise
Your game of
warfare I couldn't
play anymore
Take all your
strategy and
play your game
of warfare
somewhere else
Your game was not
in the least fun
You had a good run
I am so done
with Anthony
Dizzy-like state
Stumbles as I walk through the darkness
Hoping God hands me a lantern
Faith is my game plan
I have become the strategist in this chess game
How can something as serious as life---
be a game?
Changes molding my clay in this kiln
Money only complicates this hardship
Knowledge should serve as the answer,
But I remain unsure
Dizzy-like state
Illumination is but a mere fantasy....
Thankfully number two, she’s contented with it
Hides when the landlord comes around to feel smart with the game
Endless calculations and planning, giving unfaithfulness a honey taste
Master strategist in creating spare time no matter how little
In order to steal and passionately enjoy what she doesn’t deserve
Shares the comfort and heartbeat of another without any bother
Theft of the body and emotions, becoming another woman’s problem
Romance becomes raw, athletic with the flavours of adrenaline
Emotions may set it, then the pleasure gradually progresses, she
Sows immensely in trying to beat the actual owner
Seemingly to stop being the accessory, the sharer and the spare.
I've been jealous of Time,
sharing it with the foot steps of Days
feeding it to the appetite of Age,
Possessive of unbuyable beauty
that roams reckless within a creation fenceless,
senseless ownership, owning only the yawns of yesterdays,
jealous of glory as it ransacks the wrinkles of haughty heroism
hungering for more rumor in the religion of rhapsody,
following it throughout the carols & catacombs of hearts greedy,
feeling the charm of challenge to earn my woman's wishes,
jealous of commitment that sits silent in the center of attraction,
Jealousy is the General of my affection's arsenal,
a strategist that tells me love is worth a crusade,
taught me not to surrender to simple circumstance,
that my woman's warmth puts my skills on parade,
relentless progress is the ambition of Jealousy,
a must be aptitude, a must see attitude,
jealousy is that drum beat in my bravery,
war paints the face of my fears,
sharpens the claws of my soul,
a song that stammers not on success,
a lyrical miracle,
should not lose, could not lose, will not lose -
J.A.B.
A little of the moon the sparkle of stars to brush with faith,
In friendliness fell in line with a shooting stars gait,
Sorceress melts and delights with her strategist mate;
Missed priorities confined to surrogate bumpkins fate.
Endearing jolt in mused lightening falling from grace,
Smothers earthly love to unwind a victory parade,
Tempts disaster to look for freedom in friendly place;
An oracle says she can never usurp or degrade.
Lovers are morons for they know not the truth of life;
Ego less friends our true lies in an ethical strife.
Aloof on the battle field her combat skill cries,
Irish blood runs wild with little inebriation,
Indian warrior counts coup in feather stories,
Russian Viking lines in dormant breeding.
Duchess plays nature with tulip aroma,
Creative Polish gene encounters blush with pink,
A wild thing as the spirits seduces her faith;
Tempting to redo her life's aspirations?
Touch me not with your hate for I am no kin;
Hold me to thy lips with love so we may sin.
Whom is the head...whom is the tail,
just the flipsides of the same coin...
In peace,you war too maintain security,
In war,you war,too maintain the peace....
Population growth, with dynamic demands,
resources found in foreign lands....
A strategist will assert there's an art to war,
another will claim,there's no art in destruction....
Submission then assimilate,or
resist and face annihilation,
just look at past history,and
the fate of previous nations....
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