I’m writing a series of poems about the Stuarts and how their dynasty helped create for better or worse the Britain we have today. Here is a shape poem, called Union Jack.
Tag: poem
Tut’s wife
She brought him something old,
A throne of gold.
The change of names was something new,
The golden mask was borrowed,
The garland laid on his coffin,
blue.
Masque of treachery
Based upon Shelly’s inspiring Masque of Anarchy, heres my new poem ‘Masque of treachery’
Masque of treachery
On an island set into the silver sea,
Four horsemen came riding free,
each wore a masque to hide his identity,
They were greed, judgement, anarchy, and treachery.
First came greed upon his steed,
whose number was 11,
He counted the money and found it wanting,
he wielded his axe and kept on hacking,
leaving the destitute bitter and bereft in a hell he called heaven.
Next came the judge from his tower high above,
His wig covering his lack of hair
False piety, false outrage is his gift,
he loves to judge a life he will never have to live
Strikes the hammer,
yet he claims to care.
Anarchy rode across the land,
A shining sceptre in his hand,
Yet no crown atop his brow,
Yet he utters, ‘you acclaimed me Caesar to be master over you now’
He claims he’s one with us,
Swapping noble horse for mule,
Broken promises, a masque paper thin,
The signs of his misrule.
Finally rode treachery,
Upon the serpents back,
Folk tongued, slippery to the touch,
His words toxic black.
His lies artfully clothed in truth,
A sweeter pill to swallow,
Like anarchy his masque is only a shell,
Devoid of substance, a void, hollow.
They knew their machinations bore fruit well,
Into their lap the Palace fell,
The people of England thought hope was lost,
For their domination came at a cost.
But one woman could be seen,
Stood upon College Green,
To a crowd of the hopeless, Hope did address,
In a voice so serene.
“Let a great assembly be,
Of the courageous, the honest and the free,
Let it not be a place of selfish power games,
But above the taint of vice and shame.”
The crowd did grow,
Her words struck a chord with them,
Those tired of all the lies,
Those betrayed again and again.
Let a great assembly be,
Of the courageous, the honest and the free,
Where the voice of the people holds sway,
A parliament worthy of the name.
Roar my lions roar,
Roar like thunder,
loud and clear,
roar without the chains of fear.
With forked tongues they deceived you,
with words, deeds, force of arms they whipped you,
they tried to tame you,
But your heart is wild.
So roar my lions roar,
for they can beat us, slay us,
or in words condemn,
but we shall not silence ourselves for them.
so roar my lions roar,
make the corridors of power shake,
make feet in boots quake,
for we are the larger number,
Roar my lions, awaken from your slumber!
Demagogue
Beware ye of the demagogue
rabble rouser.
He may shout
play on fear,
tell you want you want to hear.
Look closer,
nothing there but hot air.
Beware ye of the demagogue,
From crisis they spring,
A sirens song they sing,
Quick to find a scapegoat,
Demonise,
They blind you with their lies.
Beware ye of the demagogue
rabble rouser.
He may be everywhere,
He may shout
play on fear,
tell you want you want to hear.
Look closer,
nothing there but hot air.
Delete
Delete
With one button, he became death, the destroyer of worlds,
Silencer of spoken words,
eraser of words written.
Blank page,
barren as a lunar landscape.
He destroyed what was, what could be,
Not a structure standing, nor a blade of grass.
Not a trace, his destruction complete,
With one button, he pressed delete.
Manifesto
Manifesto
Is your manifesto your beliefs manifest,
will actions and deeds put them to the test,
or are your words empty like all the rest?
Is yours a vision of a bright new dawn,
Is hope your gift where hope is forlorn?
Do you seek to serve, do you seek to inspire,
Or is it for fame, power, desire?
Will you stand for those with no voice on the street,
Will you pull him up back onto his feet?
We’ve had enough of forked tongues, weasel words,
Words uttered without passion,
Fancy phrases seem to come and go like fashion.
Do you say what you mean,
Do you mean what you say,
Or are they just words,
Just words for one day?
BumbleBee- the poet Anthony P 