"josephine" poems
Simula ng makilala ka,
Buhay ko'y sumisigla,
Lagi akong masaya,
Nalaman ko ang tunay na kahulugan ng tuwa at ligaya,
Aking pagsinta,
Bakit nga ba?
Naranasan ko ang mga pambihirang bagay,
Ang mundo ko'y naging makulay,
Binuhay mo ang diwa kong matamlay,
Ikaw ang aking lakas,
Pinakita mo ang aking magandang bukas,
Mula sa simula, gitna, dulo at wakas,
Ang isip at puso ko'y iyong pinatalas,
Madapa man ako'y iyong hinawakan,
Binangon mo ako mula sa lupang aking kinasasadlakan,
Napuntahan ko ang dulo ng kalawakan,
Ang mga puno't halaman,
Ang berdeng kagubatan,
Ang ganda ng kabundukan,
Lahat ng ito'y aking nasisilayan,
Daan ka nga ng pakikipag-ugnayan,
Ika'y gamit sa pakikipagtalastasan,
Daan tungo sa kaunlaran,
Ngunit ako'y nanghihinayang,
Dahil ika'y di kilala ng maraming kabataan,
Sabi nga nila hindi ka magandang pagmasdan,
Di nila namamalayan,
Ika'y maaari nilang maging kaibigan,
Taglay mo ang naiibang kapangyarihan,
Ika'y iniregalo ni Rizal sa kanyang buthing may bahay,
Kay Josephine Bracken ika'y ibinigay,
"Kempis "ka kung tawagin,
Ika'y,"Tagalog Christ" naman para kay Ferdinand Blumentritt.
Alam kung di matatawaran,
Ang iyong kasiyahan,
Kapag ang mga pahina mo'y binubuksan,
Mabuti kang sandigan!
Sayo nagmumula ang di matatawarang panindigan,
at di-natitinag na katwiran,
Mabuti kang larawan,
Nagsisilbing huwaran,
Magpakailanman!
Maipagmamalaki kahit saan,
Pangako ko ika'y aking dadalhin,
Pupurihin, I-ingatan at papahalagahan,
Hanggang sa aking huling hantungan,
Sayo lamang...... Minamahal kong----aklat!
Aug 16, 2017
Aug 16, 2017 at 12:10 AM UTC
Shannon, Mariah, Serena, Maria
Meridia, Midian, Sharon, Alliah
Rochelle, Camille, Rose, Halo
Trenna, Jessica, Ashley, Georgia
Marla, Olivia, Sofia, India
Daniella, Diana, Christina, Caroline
Isabella, Amelia, Amanda, Matilda
Nadine, Haley, Bailey, Francine
Eliza, Annabelle, Kathryn, Sandra
Melinda, Audrey, Aubrey, Emily
Tara, Emma, Ginny, Kathleen
Josephine, Helena, Charlotte, Laura
Chelsea, Arkady, Megan, Kelsey
Kayla, Karliah, Moana, Vivien
Kaysea, Macy, Stacy, Lorraine
Theresa, Felicia, Cecilia, Darlene
Holly, Brianna, Alexa, Ariel
Marianne, Miranda, Jennie, Coral
Korra, Daisy, Penelope, Rayne
Zoey, Cassandra, Grace, Stephanie
Jul 27, 2013
Jul 27, 2013 at 12:34 AM UTC
A girl by the name of Josephine
was once destined to be a great queen
married off to a prince, a boy
but never let her true feelings show
for she was in love, this was true
but not with the prince, a boy
her true love she could not enjoy
there were stolen kisses
snuck out at night for passion so vicious
don't get caught my sweet Josephine
for the two of you they will get in between
you see Josephine's love was forbidden
with a girl by the name of Rosaline, so it's best to keep hidden
they spent countless nights enjoying eachother
with no cover but the warmth of the two lovers
but eventually everything must come to light
during an encouter of the sweetest kind
a night of moaning and arching of their back, everything felt so right
when the prince, a boy
caught both of them in the middle of their throws
while the girls were still clutching hard at the bed
he screamed ****** ****** "off with her head!"
So the his guards grabbed Rosaline
and led her to the guillotine
Josephine looked at her lover for the last time "Rosaline"
her deep brown eyes,golden skin, a girl so divine
before the blade was let loose, not even a scream
Josephine swore, she cried a whole stream
she drowned in her tears of sorrow and pain
the girls blood on the floor it did stain
when Josephine took her last breath upon the pool of her tears
she felt Rosaline's hands around her waist and her breath in her ear
saying "My sweet josephine, don't worry I'm here."
She believed that Rosaline did not die at the guillotine
but they died together without fear and completely serene.
Nov 14, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 at 2:16 AM UTC
If Napoleon had read
Lawrence's 'Lady Chatterley's Lover'
he would stay in bed all day long
with Josephine instead of waging war in Russia.
Apr 26, 2018
Apr 26, 2018 at 9:22 PM UTC
Josephine, Josephine, Josephine, Josephine
I told you to leave my man alone
Josephine, Josephine, Josephine, Josephine
You did not listen, now you reap what you did sow
Your beauty was beyond compare
But now you're left with half your hair
And he seems to have lost interest in you, Josephine
I told you, "stay away from him!"
But your superficiality won him
Now, as it fades, the spell breaks, Josephine
I always knew my love was true
And without me, he would feel blue
He called several nights to say so, Josephine
Today he's back, regretting he left
But guess what happens, happens for the best
He wont leave love again for lust, Josephine
Josephine, Josephine, Josephine, Josephine
I thank you for trying to take my man
Josephine, Josephine, Josephine, Josephine
He's learnt his lesson - love him truly, only I can!
Mar 25, 2017
Mar 25, 2017 at 11:29 AM UTC
On love and astral travelling,
Through the stars we're wandering,
On the universe we're pondering,
My eternal love, Napoleon,
Intangible man, but full of fun,
Our jewelled cloak of stars,
We've journeyed from afar,
Shape shifting, glittering,
On love and astral travelling,
I'm no Carlos Santana,
I have no scarlet bandana,
I am the oestrogen,
Old Josephine,
Where haven't we been?
I have no testosterone,
You're my "Yes, master!" Napoleon---
On love and astral travelling,
Sentimentally wandering,
Are you Angelus or Incubus?
Reminiscing, reflecting,
Comical groupies for loving,
On love and astral travelling......
Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 12:30 AM UTC
O LOVE! O LOVE! WHY ARE YOU EVER DEVOID OF LOGIC?
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya; [email protected])
Mankind in its pathetic folly entice you in a dint of stupor
Knowing not your true colour and texture
Endeavoring to achieve glory in your mastery
With the so limited human capacity
In grey faith that you are a cradle of bliss
But O love! Why are you ever crooked?
Young men and women in strength of their sinews
Toil day and night in ******* of humanity
Praying and whining incantations with the hope for optimal love
Ornamenting their bodies with diamond and bronze
Fibre and silk ornamented to helm of providence
In the foolish quest for love equillibria
But in full stretch of your vice, you impish love
You catapult all away to the shifted goal posts
O love! O love! Why are you ever ruthless?
You hate the learned but you favour the strong
You hate professors but you favour the soldiers
You hate the rich but you favour the agile
You hate the lawyers but you favour the footballers
You hate the pastors but you favour the ruffian
You hate the whites but you favour the Negroes
You hate the groomed but you love the ragamuffin
You hate the chaste but you favour the mistress
O love! O love! Why are you ever illogical?
Love, I revere you for wickedness and irrationality
In all of your history you scored sum *** laude
In the duo as blend of your domain, Look;
You never dwell in a genuine companionship
You like where the couth will interject;
Amidst fornication between married and single ones
Amidst adultery in the triangle of foul compassion
Amidst miscegenation between black and white
Amidst infatuation between the whole and the lame
Amidst conjugal appetite between the old and the young
Amidst concupiscence between house master and houshelp
Amidst immorality of married master over the wallowing servant
Amidst libidos between literate teacher unto the peasant pupil
Amidst disordered passion among the sly lesbians
Amidst impious ********** among the suave gays
O love! O love! You are the most wicked force!
Love I am told; your colour is red
You may be red or you may not be red
But all in all, you deserve poetical veneration
For your herculean ability to bend the most wise;
In your force you made sagacious Shakespeare to bend
In your force you made Princes Diana to bend and bend
Bending downwardly stooping for Afawoyed the moor,
In your stupefying dint you made Napoleon de Bonaparte
To bend and bend downwardly stooping for Josephine
Josephine a famed she-Casanova in the gone Paris
Among the then humanity and the then animality,
In your impairing machinery you set sons on their fathers
In the roman empire of Antony and Ceaser
In the scramble for Cleopatra, the Egyptian queen
Beauty of her aquiline nose heavily hovered perhaps
In the eyes of the Roman beholders
The father and the son only to sent the empire
To the love forlorn smithereens!
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 5:08 AM UTC
We go together like
Digestives dipped in tea.
Your girlfriend and a hike.
A sting and a bee.
I love you like
Dogs love chasing postmen.
Halfords love a bike.
Teachers love red pen.
I need you like
Meerkats need you to go to a different website.
Aunt Josephine needed Ike.
Ghosts need to fright.
In summary, then,
We go together like
I love you like
I need you like
Really poor metaphors.
A reference to popular culture.
An ironic rhyme scheme and rhythm that vanishes towards the end.
Don’t you love a flirt, darling?
Apr 15, 2013
Apr 15, 2013 at 7:04 PM UTC
you are a fool, Sophia. As I look up at these city lights, every neon sign seems to advertise you; they all remind me of what I'm missing out on. I pass strangers and hear them whispering your tender mercies: "so?" "fee" "ahhh..." I may be being quite forward so early on in our correspondences, but the theory that you are a scrap of paper that someone would allow to slip through their fingers is ridiculous to me. I say that because even after only meeting you once, by such a fortunate and faithful chance, I wanted to write screenplays, novellas, and entire manuscripts only based on how beautiful your name sounds when I say it. I will be absorbed in everything you admit me to learn about you. I only hope for your amusement when you discover my own scorched trails. I'm stupefied by your compliments, and I will catch every drop of your defrosting heart on my tongue. I felt so stupid but I beamed in pride seeing I could make you blush as pink as the roses on the bush behind you... such a delicate, feminine, sensitive color; white blossoming into red, purity blooming into passion. How I wish I could be the one to awaken a passion in you. I'm terribly sorry if I'm smothering, but you've an expert pen dipped in ink of naivety... in meeting you I crossed the border between respectable me and questionable sanity: the Sophia Line (your kiss would be turpentine, **** anything I used to be to become anything, everything you need from me). Ah... fee so... you've given me a lot to live up to. xo. Josephine.
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 3:56 PM UTC
Give me a smile, that I may build on your assurance,
Kiss me, that I may have to thy kind heart entrance,
Love me less, and see how tumultuous life could be,
Give thy command, and see my loyalty to thee.
In thine absence, mine heart cannot from thee depart;
A moment's departure would rend my world apart.
I recall that very day I beheld thy face;
A lasting memory I will forever retrace.
That Sunday when thine eyes did my emotions disarm;
The day mine heart responded to thy Love's alarm,
The day you sat upon mine heart's epicentre,
To govern my feelings from their very centre.
Josephine my love, I bequeath my self-will to thee,
Let me thy world share, and make thine own tumults mine,
And come in to my own world, for all I have is thine.
Dec 15, 2022
Dec 15, 2022 at 4:56 PM UTC
Clasps
Thunder
Overtoure's
Epic opening
*
Tenderness becoming
Gentility of the fragile souls
Floating upon floatable
Multi~verses
*
What's solid?
Our steps
The little
Silences?
Mild frost
Of a season
Strumming
Galloping
Into
*
Wind chimes violin
Goose bumps beauty
*
We have tinted Ink
And gave lives to
Cosmic tinkerbells
We made vows
Across love abouts
*
Across the plains
Of Josephine's
Linnen laced
double
Edged swirl dress
Swinging below
Zodiac crisp
*
Summer's
canopy
Seems
To have
A life made
Out of
Tiptoed
Barefoot origins
*
Ticklish Grains
Got into our Mild
Dreamy oceans
Terra Rosa
Pine''
Pan
Flutes
*
Come va?
Is hour ship sailing
Is our sip sang?
Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 1:42 PM UTC
I am "Josephine Wild."
I am 35 years old.
I am an artist and an ultra runner.
I experience the world differently.
I wake up.
I work and workout.
I play.
I eat.
Then I sleep.
I see things like design and shapes.
I focus on the details.
But I try to see the bigger picture.
I look at typefaces and fonts.
I get hyper-focused.
I like to work.
To make.
To create.
Day after day
This is what I do.
I am never finished.
I date things
Because I lose track of time.
Time is against me.
So, I learn not to waste it.
Sometimes, I make believe.
But I am not a child.
I am grace.
I am strength.
I am beauty.
I am determined.
I have a good heart.
I live in my own home
With my husband.
We share the same bed.
I have toys and figurines.
I collect them.
I arrange them.
They always stay the same.
They bring me joy.
I am easily distracted.
I like to escape.
I can run away with my thoughts.
I’ve learned to domesticate my emotions.
I am an artist.
I am wonderfully weird.
I like people too.
They are beautiful each in their own way.
It’s nice to connect with people,
To feel loved.
Now, I know that I am so, so loved.
It’s hard to let people go, especially when you love them.
I know that I’m not alone.
I am apart of this world.
I just experience it differently.
But sometimes, I don’t feel free.
My life isn’t easy, but it’s a gift.
Life wouldn’t be great if it was easy.
I’m easy to get along with, and now I understand.
I love music.
I love to sing.
The music I like doesn’t need words.
I’m sometimes without words.
I search for them.
I need them quicker than they come.
But that’s OK.
I try my best to better myself.
I am not wrong, I am different.
When I fall, I reset.
I try not to cling onto people, but it’s hard.
I’ve learned to forgive myself.
I’ve learned to love myself.
I make more of an effort to think things through.
I have succeeded at leaving my comfort zones.
My effort is success.
I am not a problem.
Life is opinion. The universe is change.
And I’m always changing, always growing, always living.
I have grown a good heart.
I am awesomely autistic.
Mar 4, 2024
Mar 4, 2024 at 5:15 PM UTC
This one's for the 20 kids
Now all dead, god forbid
For the parents who now cry
Who always ask themselves, "why?"
For those teachers killed on the job
Their entire city mourns and sobs
For all the people who took a fall
I support you and I bless you all.
To the familes of Charlotte Bacon, Daniel Barden, Rachel Davino, Olivia Engel, Josephine Gay, Ana M. Marquez-Greene, Dylan Hockley, Dawn Hochsprung, Madeleine F. Hsu, Catherine V. Hubbard, Chase Kowalski, Jesse Lewis, James Mattioli, Grace McDonnell, Anne Marie Murphy, Emilie Parker, Jack Pinto, Noah Pozner, Caroline Previdi, Jessica Rekos, Avielle Richman, Lauren Rousseau, Mary Sherlach, Victoria Soto, Benjamin Wheeler, and Allison N. Wyatt.
Dec 19, 2012
Dec 19, 2012 at 9:00 PM UTC
origination of Satanism,
tied Buddhism to hedonism –
to bastardize the -isms.
not fitting, not where i am
supposed to be.
if Napoleon were alive this
moment, think he’d be living
the life i’ve led? prememories
causing us to be learn’d
without having ever experienced.
recurring Josephine.
(epigenetics)
to be found implant’d upon all
those slivers. beyond physical.
and Hemingway tactics:
“each line is a waste if
every line is not its own story.”
reason to state, ease up. relax,
drink up and write. all is implicit.
come back less fuck’d up, with
no more quotes, drop hyphens and
speak.
– unintelligent men will
die for their cause.
intelligent men will
live forever for their cause.
reality of once homelessness.
oh, how stark. was waiting
to lose self for a better perspective.
– if you wanna know a man,
know the world when he was twenty.
was restless for wisdom, was
starved for communion,
and my eyes again will ache.
(this time it’s just a line)
and a dog ate the last papers –
how terribly frustrating.
break. and all conversations
are destined to progress.
– don’t you know you shouldn’t
do that? it could stain the carpet.
Jan 27, 2013
Jan 27, 2013 at 2:14 PM UTC
I. The Flitting
*just like me to
be the one to lose my nerve
I don’t even think of you
sipping your coffee and yawning*
his honey-throat spreading imagined hospitality like butter
on toast—the bard of Royal Street ringing bells of that
known once and only, that forgotten bard of Montmartre
e, e, e, e,
e, e, e, e, e, d, c, d
I walked up and down and up and down
and up and down, wrought-iron
balconies and
hanging plants and
circus clowns and
cocktails named
things like Aviator
and Little Josephine
in my ribs.
hurricane season came and went
the apartment Jacob rented painted
salmon by the new tenant
I kept walking
all I heard was jazz
II. The Splatter
I met a man all the way from Delhi
at the mismatched
butterfly-printed breakfast table.
He said
“Where are you from?”
and I said a little town near Philly
and he said
“Where are you going?”
and I said I haven’t got a clue.
He told me they let you
paint the walls with pen strokes
and they never paint it over.
He said to love thy neighbor ‘cause she looks okay
and when they ask what brings you here
to smile and tell them
“Well isn’t that just none of your **** business.”
III. The End
it was
just
like
me
to be
the one
to lose
my nerve—
I step off the plane
humming in my best
imitation honey voice
a little drunk on airplane wine
it’s raining here
and I only remember
that one line
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 11:52 PM UTC
The East is singing. Like a slug of happy Banshee
at a salacious angle across my decedent pillow, while my phalanges
***** for your waist like a sleepwalking magnet
to the sun-drenched ***** of an impossible Mermaid.
It's Josephine for Breakfast….and all is steam.
And I Amazed.
May 23, 2019
May 23, 2019 at 11:42 PM UTC
Perhaps we will
Perhaps, we might
Or like Napoleon declining *** said,
Josephine…
“Not tonight”
Life’s full of possibilities
So, try not to be trite.
It could be there in front of you
You blink,
It’s taken flight!
Aug 21, 2016
Aug 21, 2016 at 10:54 AM UTC
Oh, how my heart aches with such sweet sorrow.
Your presence in these thoughts of mine, bring forth something so sweet.
Kneeling to inhale a freshly bloomed rose in the break of spring is what you are.
A rose you are my love.
A character I face many times a week.
Oh, how you cause my knees to go weak and my hands shaky.
Oh, what sweet sorrow when for just a moment, your wrists touches mine.
When your fragrance sways my way.
For just a moment, our spirits become aligned.
The same breath is taken from this dream that stands still.
For a moment, it all becomes real.
Then the noise settles in.
The pace surrounding now back in motion.
The cloud my heart rest on vanishes.
Only now hanging from a thread of hopeful thought.
Did he enter into that realm along with me? Or was I alone in my travels?
Oh! But his eyes say so much, yet nothing at all! Can it be all I see is my own reflection in those glossy eyes staring back at me?
- Josephine M. Zeceña
Nov 8, 2017
Nov 8, 2017 at 11:01 AM UTC
the elephant in the room....
...you need to lose weight
unrealistically optimistic
focuses on goals
ignores pitfalls
stumbles
astonished
fails
we could argue
we could fight
but not tonight
josephine
Now how about
some Leonard Cohen
from memory
happy christmas
Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 3:33 PM UTC
Young girl in blue, why must she be so pretty?
With thick copper curls and eyes to match
Still, someone so wicked has forsaken her yet
And so unwillingly does she sell her pure body
In grievous strain, how she sits on ***** stone steps
Head bowed down with chest wide open
Hands gripping at cold, goose-bumped flesh
Bruised from nights spent with a rough customer
And people may curse and stare on London's hostile streets
But still her eyes hold their defiant gaze
So young is she to have such a bitter stare
Does she know how my heart aches for her?
Young Josephine, girl in blue,
Nearer below, to the ground every hour
And soon, she thinks, she'll let her heart freeze
Numb to feeling already, she might not even hurt
Oh, what a beautiful mess on the streets she'd be
So please, quick, someone come whisk her away!
Save her from the chilly air and save her from the pain
That shatters her so every time a man looks her way
She shudders beneath her pale skin
Oh, people of all ages, here, come and look!
See how she cowers in dark alleyways
How she shrinks and swallows her withered soul whole
So that only she has the key to pent-up sorrow
Strong, so stout, this unfortunate girl
So helpless is she in deep poverty
Dear man and lady, spare your vile thoughts and high virtues
And rescue her from this misery
Take her home, go now, raise her well!
Encase her in love from in and out
and rub her frozen, goose-bumped skin
Happiness, I swear she will bring
Jan 4, 2013
Jan 4, 2013 at 4:11 AM UTC
As fast as ocean sweeps the bay
legs of crescent carry away
a sea of wonder won't reject
the sweetest moons you collect
in the palm of your hand soft as peach
slender spine strains to reach
the sun in the sky too far for advice
on speaking to creatures fragile as ice
because the sweetest girl, dear Josephine
shielded by blue instead of green
has a smile painted upon the wall
off the museum fortress she dare not fall
because the places you venture will seem
only to exist before in your dreams
never so lonesome as an unshared bed
cluttered with thoughts of remorse instead
slamming doors in the old broken home
cover the windows high with stones
when travels far and wide resume
remember your home is always the moon.
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 10:45 PM UTC
I had a dream the other night, guess who was the star?
Sitting in a smoke filled room, it was an old man's bar.
Drinking old man's drinks, made with scotch and rye,
What should I see with my bloodshot eye?
A beautiful girl appeared, and clinging to her thighs,
This skintight dress made all of silk, designed in just your size.
In her hand she had a smoke, and blew some in my face,
I tried to grab the dress in back, but couldn't get the lace.
Coughing and choking I looked at her, as she walked away,
I got excited watching her walk; her hips did dip and sway.
By now it's pretty obvious, member hard in my pants,
Walked right up behind her and asked, honey do you dance?
When finally I saw her face, much to my surprise,
Guess who was starring back at me, I wouldn't tell you lies.
My beautiful Josephine was looking in my eyes,
Silky blonde hair on her head, that dress grabbed her thighs.
She said, hey baby I'm standing here, will it take all night,
For you to come and kiss my lips, and try to get it right.
I laid my lips across her face and got a big wet kiss,
Suddenly my dream was done; I woke in the abyss.
Looking at the night table, what there should I find?
An ashtray with some stale smoked butts, happened to be your kind.
I got right there out of bed, and on something I did slip,
The hot silk dress I dreamed about, that clinged all to your hip.
Upon hitting the floor and banging my head, I heard a soft low voice,
Are you ok? She said to me, to answer I had no choice.
I'm ok love of mine, I'll come right back to bed,
When finally getting close to her, I kissed her on the head.
Was it real or did I dream, what difference does it make,
My loves warm body next to mine, her heart is what I take.
Visit poemsbypaul.com
Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 5:53 PM UTC
I'd like a sometimes-shallow river.
Just enough to dip my feet in deep until they land on smooth, cold stones.
I'd like a tree to hang a swing on a cliff that hovers over my cold water river.
I'd like a road soft on my wet toes
(moss will do)
-that leads to my swing that hovers over my sometimes-shallow river.
I'd like the mossy path to start at the front of a white wrap around porch
that hugs a cottage of the palest of blue with creaky steps to my squeaky screen door that opens to my hardwood floors.
My wet footprints will leave ghost steps in my parlor beyond the porch.
I'd not sit in the fine couch that I'd have only for the company.
I'd like to have some tea to warm me after my swim... I'll drink it in the sunroom
just beyond the white kitchen.
I'd like to see a vase of white daisies with sunshine yellow center white on white on yellow in the pristine kitchen of mine. The daisies-I've picked them fresh,
...From the garden
...that's in the back off my cottage and set them in an old jam jar on a worn-with-love wooden table.
I'll hang my daughter's summer jumpers on a line that runs from the willow tree
(she'll have auburn ringlet curls that gleam in the sun as she dances through the drying sheets)
-to the cherry blossom tree that I'd like to think would be right just below my bedroom window (so I'd smell them in the morning when I'd like to think of me yawning and stretching in a bed of pale pink lace and soft wide pillows)
I'd like to think the cat would meow and he would pet her lovingly.
I'd like to think he'd be kind to animals and to me.
Perhaps handsome with his crooked smile.
I'd like to think we grow old here. And grow happy.
And the children. Oh how the children have grown, lives of their own now.
I'd like to think we can dip our feet in that sometimes-shallow river, not that they are older and settled and it's just him and I.
Now that all the years have lovingly passed with ease.
I'd like to think.
Yes. I'd like to think so.
Sahn 4/30/14
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 11:13 PM UTC
Corsican born, and an emperor mighty indeed.
Who from obscurity came up to prominence,
who from French shores the attacks of armies repelled,
who had at his disposal, Europe's resources,
who to Saint Helena from French shores was expelled.
Of old Italian nobility he was seed.
Shortish in height, yet towering in ambition.
Military genius of the highest distinction,
whose military strategy is second to none save
Alexander. Whose courage is held in reverence,
whose cradle at infancy was kept in a cave
from strong invading imperialist French forces.
He gave up an empire so vast at Waterloo;
A threat to the memories of his victories past.
Mighty Napoleon, who at Austerlitz excelled.
You did on the beautiful older Josephine cast
your loving eyes, which were hypnotized with passion,
yet focused on so lofty an ambition.
Not even your love for her would rival your love
for world conquest, for which you assiduously strove.
Jan 30, 2018
Jan 30, 2018 at 1:46 AM UTC