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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=425716" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Ozymandias Ever Rising through the Winds of Time</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ozymandias Ever Rising through the Winds of Time</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I met a poet from an online site <br>who said: 'Two vast and trunkless legs of stone <br>stand in my mind, yet find description quite <br>inadequate, half sunk beneath time flown.'<br>I answered: 'He whose sneer rei[g]ned cold command, <br>his sculptor too, are both to Lethe blown, <br>his passions mocked by who'd today demand<br>a résumé for tourists who bemoan<br>a lack of facts to show their pseudo friends<br>to back up their vacation time well spent, <br>and yet, and yet, so similar their ends<br>whose works turn sand when's finished sojourn lent.'<br>He came, he ruled, time fooled and conquered him, <br>trunk packed away museumwards on whim.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Nosy man dies as day draws down dark night, <br>knows he has but a finite span to moan<br>upon this Earth until, denied the right<br>of an extension to his lifelong loan.<br>Foreclosure comes whatever cash on hand<br>must crash to dust, call harvested; seeds sown<br>perhaps survive, migrate to other land, <br>there to engender likeness, throwback clone. <br>Thus who’d seek Ozymandias’ tale lends<br>an ear to fable, tables on hints sent<br>through centuries whose key stones make amends<br>for missing trunk, lost headstone’s argument.<br>When dunes into oases are restored, <br>may reader find true answer mind may hoard. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>1 February 2009 <br>Parody Ozymandias - Percy Bysshe SHELLEY 1792_1822 shel1_0001</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Ozymandias</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>I met a traveller from an antique land <br>Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone <br>Stand in the desert... Near them, on the sand, <br>Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, <br>And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command <br>Tell that its sculptor well those passions read <br>Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, <br>The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And on the pedestal these words appear: <br>'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: <br>Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair! ' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Nothing beside remains. Round the decay <br>Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare <br>The lone and level sands stretch far away. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Percy Bysshe SHELLEY 1792_1822 written 27 December 1817, <br>during an evening sonnet-writing session with Horace Smith</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>On a Stupendous Leg of Granite, Discovered Standing by Itself in the Deserts of Egypt, with the Inscription Inserted Below</div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>In Egypt's sandy silence, all alone, <br>Stands a gigantic Leg, which far off throws <br>The only shadow that the Desert knows. <br>'I am great Ozymandias, ' saith the stone, <br>'The King of kings: this mighty city shows <br>The wonders of my hand.' The city's gone! <br>Naught but the leg remaining to disclose <br>The sight of that forgotten Babylon. <br>We wonder, and some hunter may express <br>Wonder like ours, when through the wilderness <br>Where London stood, holding the wolf in chase, <br>He meets some fragment huge, and stops to guess <br>What wonderful, but unrecorded, race <br>Once dwelt in that annihilated place. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Horace SMITH - written 27 December 1817, during an evening sonnet-writing session with Percy Bysshe SHELLEY 1792_1822</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> <br>Death of Aldo </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>A wildlife writer from The Forest Lost <br>Said this: I saw a blue car wrecked beneath a cliff, <br>Shattered and flattened. Near it had been tossed <br>Half sunk, a well-drained Johnnie Walker fifth. <br>Suggesting that the driver had been sauced. <br>The road above was barely marked at all - <br>Could he survive? Or was this his adieu? <br>No butler, bear nor dog had blocked his fall - <br>But on the dashboard, in his blood, this scrawl: <br>“My name is Aldo Kelrast - Stalkeroo: <br>Look upon your work, O Mary, and despair! ” <br>Nothing beside remains. Round the decay <br>Of that pathetic wreck, boundless and bare <br>The Santa Royale sands stretch far away.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Parody UN known Author 0316 <br>Parody Ozymandias - Percy Bysshe SHELLEY 1792_1822</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> <br>Abyssinias</div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I met a traveler from an antique land<br>Who said: A huge four-footed limestone form<br>Sits in the desert, sinking in the sand.<br>Its whiskered face, though marred by wind and storm, <br>Still flaunts the dainty ears, the collar band<br>And feline traits the sculptor well portrayed: <br>The bearing of a born aristocrat, <br>The stubborn will no mortal can dissuade.<br>And on its base, in long-dead alphabets, <br>These words are set: 'Reward for missing cat! <br>His name is Abyssinias, pet of pets; <br>I, Ozymandias, will a fortune pay<br>For his return. He heard me speak of vets -<br>O foolish King! And so he ran away.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Henry BEARD – Poetry for Cats<br>Parody Ozymandias - Percy Bysshe SHELLEY 1792_1822</div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ozymandias Revisited</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I met a traveler from an antique land <br>Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone <br>Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand, <br>Half sunk, a shatter'd visage lies, whose frown <br>And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command <br>Tell that its sculptor well those passions read <br>Which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things, <br>The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed; <br>And on the pedestal these words appear: <br>'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings! <br>Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair! ' <br>Also the names of Emory P. Gray, <br>Mr. and Mrs. Dukes, and Oscar Baer <br>of 17 West 4th Street, Oyster Bay. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Maurice BISHOP 1893_1973 <br>Parody Percy Bysshe SHELLEY 1792_1822 Ozymandias</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The Collector</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I met a traveller from an antique show, <br>His pockets empty, but his eyes aglow.<br>Upon his back, and now his very own, <br>He bore two vast and trunkless legs of stone.<br>Amid the torrent of collector's jargon<br>I gathered he had found himself a bargain, <br>A permanent conversation piece post-prandial, <br>Certified genuine early Ozymandial<br>And when I asked him how he could be sure, <br>He showed me P.B. Shelley's signature.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Ogden NASH<br>The Old Dog Barks Backwards 1972<br>Parody Percy Bysshe SHELLEY 1792_1822 Ozymandias</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> <br>Abyssinias</div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I met a traveler from an antique land<br>Who said: A huge four-footed limestone form<br>Sits in the desert, sinking in the sand.<br>Its whiskered face, though marred by wind and storm, <br>Still flaunts the dainty ears, the collar band<br>And feline traits the sculptor well portrayed: <br>The bearing of a born aristocrat, <br>The stubborn will no mortal can dissuade.<br>And on its base, in long-dead alphabets, <br>These words are set: 'Reward for missing cat! <br>His name is Abyssinias, pet of pets; <br>I, Ozymandias, will a fortune pay<br>For his return. He heard me speak of vets -<br>O foolish King! And so he ran away.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Henry BEARD – Poetry for Cats<br>Parody Ozymandias - Percy Bysshe SHELLEY 1792_1822</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Ozzie Mandias</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I met the traveller from an antique shop<br>Who said, “two vast and trunkless legs, a bust<br>Of Pompey, and a vase of lead, in dust<br>And debris lie in my cellar, near a mop.<br>Few modern sculptors are there who could top<br>Their beauty, even though they are half rust.”<br>He raved on, and aroused my simple trust, <br>Till I at length prevailed on him to stop.<br>Seized with delight, I bought them all. On one<br>Deciphered I these words: ‘Made in Hong Kong’.<br>Little more remained. Decay had come<br>From having rotted in the cellar long.<br>Of that colossal bust, begrimed and grey, <br>All but the plastic base had flaked away.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Parody UN known Author 0161 <br>Parody Ozymandias - Percy Bysshe SHELLEY 1792_1822</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ozymandias' Safecracker</div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I met a cracksman coming down the Strand, <br>Who said, ‘A huge Cathedral, piled of stone, <br>Stands in a churchyard, near St. Martin’s le Grand, <br>Where keeps Saint Paul his sacerdotal throne.<br>A street runs by it to the northward. There<br>For cab and bus is writ ‘No Thoroughare, ’<br>The Mayor and Councilmen do so command.<br>And in that street a shop, with many a box, <br>Upon whose sign, these fateful words I scanned: <br>‘My name is Chubb, who makes the Patent Locks; <br>Look on my works, ye burglars, and despair! ’<br>Here made he pause, like one that sees a blight<br>Mar all his hopes, and sighed with drooping air, <br>‘Our game is up, my covies, blow me tight! ’</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Theodore MARTIN 1816_1909<br>written With William Edmonstoune AYTOUN Bon Gaultier Ballads<br>Parody Percy Bysshe SHELLEY - Ozymandias</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Percy's Progress</div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>A wizened dealer in the second-hand<br>Said: I've two vast and dog-eared kid-bound tomes<br>Still in my stock. I cannot understand<br>Why no-one wants them any more. Such poems<br>Transport you to new worlds, a wonderland<br>Where planets swim, and men are hushed on peaks<br>And skylarks fly through hail. O, how I wish<br>To sell the blessed things. They've been there weeks.<br>And on the frontispiece these words appear: <br>'My name is Percy Shelley - 'twas a Bysshe! <br>If you don't like it, rub it in your hair! '<br>Nothing beside remains. What can I say? <br>They've been remaindered. Else, my shop is bare.<br>The dusty, empty shelves stretch far away.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Bob NEWMAN 19_20 Parody Ozymandias - Percy Bysshe SHELLEY 1792_1822</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Jonathan+Robin">Jonathan Robin</a><div class=q>
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I met a poet from an online site 
who said: 'Two vast and trunkless legs of stone 
stand in my mind, yet find description quite 
inadequate, half sunk beneath time flown.'
I answered: 'He whose sne..."></div>
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