Ozymandias (in reply to Percy Bysshe Shelley)
I saw a traveller coming from the desert
wrapped in white cloth
and the man greeted me, asked for water
and told me about Ozymandias, the great king
whose broken statue still commanded respect
whose kingdom was now laid bare
from the covering sand
and suddenly the sky darkened
as if the sun for moments took flight
and far of out in the desert
the red dust hang like a huge sandstorm
but the size of it was severe
and I saw something rising, materializing
getting form
the huge legs of stone blazing alive
and the entire body of it,
that colossal wreck became whole
and around it was gathered
a might crowd of armed men
bowing down to its honour
and praying to it
while a voice like thunder
cried out for the entire world
to despair, to bow before
before its supreme reign,
before it turned north,
marching with its army
right into Europe
to destroy, to enslave
and to take with force.
[Reference: Ozymandias by Percy Bysshe Shelley.]
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Ozymandias
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
poem by P.B. Shelley from Ozymandias (1818)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Ozymandias
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: `Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear --
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.'
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ozymandias Ever Rising through the Winds of Time
Ozymandias Ever Rising through the Winds of Time
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 sneer rei[g]ned cold command,
his sculptor too, are both to Lethe blown,
his passions mocked by who'd today demand
a résumé for tourists who bemoan
a lack of facts to show their pseudo friends
to back up their vacation time well spent,
and yet, and yet, so similar their ends
whose works turn sand when's finished sojourn lent.'
He came, he ruled, time fooled and conquered him,
trunk packed away museumwards on whim.
Nosy man dies as day draws down dark night,
knows he has but a finite span to moan
upon this Earth until, denied the right
of an extension to his lifelong loan.
Foreclosure comes whatever cash on hand
must crash to dust, call harvested; seeds sown
perhaps survive, migrate to other land,
there to engender likeness, throwback clone.
Thus who’d seek Ozymandias’ tale lends
an ear to fable, tables on hints sent
through centuries whose key stones make amends
for missing trunk, lost headstone’s argument.
When dunes into oases are restored,
may reader find true answer mind may hoard.
1 February 2009
Parody Ozymandias - Percy Bysshe SHELLEY 1792_1822 shel1_0001
Ozymandias
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert... Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair! '
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
Percy Bysshe SHELLEY 1792_1822 written 27 December 1817,
during an evening sonnet-writing session with Horace Smith
On a Stupendous Leg of Granite, Discovered Standing by Itself in the Deserts of Egypt, with the Inscription Inserted Below
In Egypt's sandy silence, all alone,
Stands a gigantic Leg, which far off throws
The only shadow that the Desert knows.
'I am great Ozymandias, ' saith the stone,
'The King of kings: this mighty city shows
The wonders of my hand.' The city's gone!
Naught but the leg remaining to disclose
The sight of that forgotten Babylon.
We wonder, and some hunter may express
Wonder like ours, when through the wilderness
Where London stood, holding the wolf in chase,
He meets some fragment huge, and stops to guess
What wonderful, but unrecorded, race
Once dwelt in that annihilated place.
Horace SMITH - written 27 December 1817, during an evening sonnet-writing session with Percy Bysshe SHELLEY 1792_1822
Death of Aldo
A wildlife writer from The Forest Lost
Said this: I saw a blue car wrecked beneath a cliff,
Shattered and flattened. Near it had been tossed
Half sunk, a well-drained Johnnie Walker fifth.
Suggesting that the driver had been sauced.
The road above was barely marked at all -
Could he survive? Or was this his adieu?
No butler, bear nor dog had blocked his fall -
But on the dashboard, in his blood, this scrawl:
“My name is Aldo Kelrast - Stalkeroo:
Look upon your work, O Mary, and despair! ”
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that pathetic wreck, boundless and bare
The Santa Royale sands stretch far away.
Parody UN known Author 0316
Parody Ozymandias - Percy Bysshe SHELLEY 1792_1822
Abyssinias
I met a traveler from an antique land
Who said: A huge four-footed limestone form
Sits in the desert, sinking in the sand.
Its whiskered face, though marred by wind and storm,
Still flaunts the dainty ears, the collar band
And feline traits the sculptor well portrayed:
The bearing of a born aristocrat,
The stubborn will no mortal can dissuade.
And on its base, in long-dead alphabets,
These words are set: 'Reward for missing cat!
His name is Abyssinias, pet of pets;
I, Ozymandias, will a fortune pay
For his return. He heard me speak of vets -
O foolish King! And so he ran away.'
Henry BEARD – Poetry for Cats
Parody Ozymandias - Percy Bysshe SHELLEY 1792_1822
Ozymandias Revisited
I met a traveler from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shatter'd visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal these words appear:
'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings!
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair! '
Also the names of Emory P. Gray,
Mr. and Mrs. Dukes, and Oscar Baer
of 17 West 4th Street, Oyster Bay.
Maurice BISHOP 1893_1973
Parody Percy Bysshe SHELLEY 1792_1822 Ozymandias
The Collector
I met a traveller from an antique show,
His pockets empty, but his eyes aglow.
Upon his back, and now his very own,
He bore two vast and trunkless legs of stone.
Amid the torrent of collector's jargon
I gathered he had found himself a bargain,
A permanent conversation piece post-prandial,
Certified genuine early Ozymandial
And when I asked him how he could be sure,
He showed me P.B. Shelley's signature.
Ogden NASH
The Old Dog Barks Backwards 1972
Parody Percy Bysshe SHELLEY 1792_1822 Ozymandias
Abyssinias
I met a traveler from an antique land
Who said: A huge four-footed limestone form
Sits in the desert, sinking in the sand.
Its whiskered face, though marred by wind and storm,
Still flaunts the dainty ears, the collar band
And feline traits the sculptor well portrayed:
The bearing of a born aristocrat,
The stubborn will no mortal can dissuade.
And on its base, in long-dead alphabets,
These words are set: 'Reward for missing cat!
His name is Abyssinias, pet of pets;
I, Ozymandias, will a fortune pay
For his return. He heard me speak of vets -
O foolish King! And so he ran away.'
Henry BEARD – Poetry for Cats
Parody Ozymandias - Percy Bysshe SHELLEY 1792_1822
Ozzie Mandias
I met the traveller from an antique shop
Who said, “two vast and trunkless legs, a bust
Of Pompey, and a vase of lead, in dust
And debris lie in my cellar, near a mop.
Few modern sculptors are there who could top
Their beauty, even though they are half rust.”
He raved on, and aroused my simple trust,
Till I at length prevailed on him to stop.
Seized with delight, I bought them all. On one
Deciphered I these words: ‘Made in Hong Kong’.
Little more remained. Decay had come
From having rotted in the cellar long.
Of that colossal bust, begrimed and grey,
All but the plastic base had flaked away.
Parody UN known Author 0161
Parody Ozymandias - Percy Bysshe SHELLEY 1792_1822
Ozymandias' Safecracker
I met a cracksman coming down the Strand,
Who said, ‘A huge Cathedral, piled of stone,
Stands in a churchyard, near St. Martin’s le Grand,
Where keeps Saint Paul his sacerdotal throne.
A street runs by it to the northward. There
For cab and bus is writ ‘No Thoroughare, ’
The Mayor and Councilmen do so command.
And in that street a shop, with many a box,
Upon whose sign, these fateful words I scanned:
‘My name is Chubb, who makes the Patent Locks;
Look on my works, ye burglars, and despair! ’
Here made he pause, like one that sees a blight
Mar all his hopes, and sighed with drooping air,
‘Our game is up, my covies, blow me tight! ’
Theodore MARTIN 1816_1909
written With William Edmonstoune AYTOUN Bon Gaultier Ballads
Parody Percy Bysshe SHELLEY - Ozymandias
Percy's Progress
A wizened dealer in the second-hand
Said: I've two vast and dog-eared kid-bound tomes
Still in my stock. I cannot understand
Why no-one wants them any more. Such poems
Transport you to new worlds, a wonderland
Where planets swim, and men are hushed on peaks
And skylarks fly through hail. O, how I wish
To sell the blessed things. They've been there weeks.
And on the frontispiece these words appear:
'My name is Percy Shelley - 'twas a Bysshe!
If you don't like it, rub it in your hair! '
Nothing beside remains. What can I say?
They've been remaindered. Else, my shop is bare.
The dusty, empty shelves stretch far away.
Bob NEWMAN 19_20 Parody Ozymandias - Percy Bysshe SHELLEY 1792_1822
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Beyond Existence
today i tell time
and the sands and the desert sun
you cannot vanish me
i have reasons
you can take my body
feed it to vultures
but i still have this soul
everywhere
i am not Ozymandias
i am not mere mist
i am my words
my atoms, i live forever
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Egyptology
I am the Sphinx.
I am the woman buried in sand
up to her chin.
I am waiting for an archaeologist
to unearth me,
to dig out my neck & my nipples,
bare my claws
& solve my riddle.
No one has solved my riddle
since Oedipus.
I face the pyramids which rise
like angular breasts
from the dry body of Egypt.
My fertile river is flowing down below-
a lovely lower kingdom.
Every woman should have a delta
with such rich silt-
brown as the buttocks
of Nubian queens.
O friend, why have you come to Egypt?
Aton & Yahweh
are still feuding.
Moses is leading his people
& speaking of guilt.
The voice out of the volcano
will not be still.
A religion of death,
a woman buried alive.
For thousands of years
the sand drifted over my head.
My sex was a desert,
my hair more porous than pumice,
& nobody sucked my lips
to make me tell.
The pyramid breasts, though huge,
will never sag.
In the center of each one,
a king lies buried.
In the center of each one,
a darkened chamber. . .
a tunnel,
dead men's bones,
malignant gold.
poem by Erica Jong
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Epigram IV: Circumstance
From the Greek.
A man who was about to hang himself,
Finding a purse, then threw away his rope;
The owner, coming to reclaim his pelf,
The halter found; and used it. So is Hope
Changed for Despair--one laid upon the shelf,
We take the other. Under Heaven’s high cope
Fortune is God—all you endure and do
Depends on circumstance as much as you.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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The waning moon
(after Percy Bysshe Shelley)
Shapelessly white it spread its light
ailing like a old withered man
in the darkness of that night
its half a thumb’s span
rising very slow
taking half steps before pausing for breath
it had a whimpering kind of glow
as if it was very near to death
wandering in the elemental space half-insane
trying to find its way through a myriad of bright stars
as if feebleness, atrophy had rotten its fading brain
as if it wore a crisscross of scars
while its colour was a kind of pale
thinly covered by a cloud’s veil.
[Reference: “The waning moon” by Percy Bysshe Shelley.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Y.... River meets desert
A young river,
So strong
Nothing could stop it
Nothing went wrong
Big rocks in its way
No problem at all
It went over them
Around them if tall
But then it met the desert
Water sank deep into sand
Huge problem for the river
It looked like its life was to end
Desperately
It turned to our God
'Please, God help me
To get away from or over this spot'
A voice from above said
'Look at the wind in the sky
It crosses the desert so easily
So just stop to cry! '
'But I am not wind, I am water
How can I cross
Please help me
I am at a loss'
'Did you forget dear river, '
Said the voice from above
'Long time before you were a river
The wind carried you with love'
The river let its water evaporate
Allowed the wind to carry it once more
In its loving arms,
wind held the river as before
Across the desert they went
A lot of water in a big large cloud
And at the other side
The wind let it rain out
There the river again became strong
Even better and stronger than before
With much vigor it ran
For everyone to adore
Dear young men and women alike
If you meet with the desert or anything wrong
Remember who carried you
Before you became a river so strong
poem by Aufie Zophy
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To her who once loved me
(after Percy Bysshe Shelley)
Princess, why did you call me
with longing in your voice,
but when you wanted to be free,
did not leave me another choice?
In some of your writings that to me you address
you speak of passed bliss
there are tears and sheer unhappiness
and it’s as if you are yearning for another kiss?
It is now running to years
that I have to live with emptiness
and I am brave beyond any fears
but I am viewing any friendship with a kind of aloofness.
Keep from sending love and promises that have to be made,
if your love like the stars at break of day is soon to fade.
[Reference: “To Emilia Viviani” by Percy Bysshe Shelley.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Nature’s philosophy (Novelinee)
(after Percy Bysshe Shelley)
No things in nature acts only single
as all things are set to love each other;
why can we not also such like mingle
to be more than like sister and brother?
In a loving, caring kind of emotion,
embracing the wind touches the flowers
and to each other there is devotion,
the sun shines with its secret powers
while the earth is kissed by rain showers.
[Reference: “Love’s philosophy” by Percy Bysshe Shelley.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Finding your god
After your father’s demise
you didn’t have a god
but you had to find one
or you’re writing of children’s stories
in the nether world of Toeka
(a place far away and long gone)
would come undone.
So we went to caves
to view Bushmen paintings
drove through Namaqualand
visiting quiver trees
to get a pincushion-type quiver
to fit your hunting arrows in
with which you wanted to hunt your god down
past Gifberg with its white poisonous daisies
right through the cruel sea
where only here and there
some clumps of hardy trees
grows defiantly against the Namib Desert
and carrying on through a raging sandstorm
with its suffocating warm wind
and you though that we
would surely find him at God’s finger
near Asab, where you believed
supernatural powers prevail
and the pillar of rock
with the narrow neck
pointing up into the heavens
just looked like erosion to me.
Further on near the Kuiseb River
you believed the canyon to be ablaze
as if your god was walking there
but still he was nowhere
and at Okaukuejo we went to the magic forest
of Moringa ovalifolia trees
and you were certain that now
we were drawing near
as these trees looked
as if they were flung out of paradise
landing upside down
where they were still growing
and at the Etosha pan
we saw a large herd of Oryx
drinking water
and couldn’t understand
how they lived in the desert
and you were sure
that your god
was sustaining them somehow
but still no other signs
of your god was seen
and we drove back to the Kalahari desert
where near the Orange river
we found a stretch of white sand
about nine kilometres long
right there in the normal red desert
and I went up a dune at the southern face
and while I walked
it made a strange sound
and it roared when I sailed down
and you where awe struck
at the voice of your god
and in the desert
with the roaring sand
you heard his voice
when you walked there
and I had to lock it
in preserved-fruit bottles
with lids welded together
and a tiny hole drilled through
and filled one jar with that white sand
and when sealed air tight
it looked like a huge egg timer
but its singing roared
into a humming sound
and your were sure
that your god
was captured and found
and from now on
you could hear his voice
whenever you wanted to.
poem by Gert Strydom
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I dreamt of walking in a lovely garden
(after Percy Bysshe Shelley)
I dreamt of walking in a lovely garden
and it was in the time of spring
where sprouts appeared where the ground did harden
and everywhere I could hear birds sing.
Around me there were flowers everywhere,
irises in colours of yellow, purple and blue,
scented roses in white, orange and red that made me stare
at their particular lovely hue.
Everything was fresh and new after the rain showers
and in that garden I was somewhat cosy,
I wanted to pick a bunch of flowers,
tie them into a scented posy
and I wondered for who,
as no one to me was true.
[Reference: “The Question” by Percy Bysshe Shelley.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Questions to Desert Wind…
You wonder,
Did the desert wind already forgotten to past?
No dearest, it has always blown so gently…
Crafting this dry open desert,
Shifting mystical sand dunes,
Bringing precious droplets to a thirsty bird,
To comfort her broken heart!
You further asked,
O desert wind…
Why erased my written message in the sand?
So let it be a permanent secret,
Cause I have already engraved it in my heart.
poem by Desert Life
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Fragment: A Wanderer
He wanders, like a day-appearing dream,
Through the dim wildernesses of the mind;
Through desert woods and tracts, which seem
Like ocean, homeless, boundless, unconfined.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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The hammer’s tale
There’s a tale of a hammer
that dropped from the sky
and fell at the feet
of a warrior chief
while he was hunting
and before he saw it
a flash of blue-white lightning
cracked down at his feet
from a cloudless cobalt blue sky.
Amazed at the thunder
his gaze went into the air,
but he could see nothing there
but he sensed something
and looked more carefully
and something still unseen
threw a shadow covering him
and at his feet lay something strange
while in the east he heard the sound
of something huge
hitting the ground as if dead.
A metallic hammer huge in size
fit for a giant
with a colour somewhere between
copper and gold lay gleaming
as if it was filled with some strange
sort of energy
and it was crafted beautifully
with intricate runic patterns
decorating its shaft
and while the shadow
became much larger
and more threatening
and he swore
that he could hear
something breathing
and he reached for the hammer
trying to pick it up
and it was light
as a feather in his hands
and the hammer changed in colour
to a bright white blue hue
and started humming
as if it was coming alive
and it changed in size and shape
becoming much smaller
but like a big war maul
and he wasn’t dreaming
but a giant of a godlike thing
was in fury looking at him
and a flaming sword
was in its huge fist
with a hound with red gleaming eyes
following it
and holding onto the hammer
with both hands he took a swing at it,
hitting it with a tremendous thundering blow
and it fell over into a valley
facing the wooded west
but with a still swiping sword
and the warrior ran
trying to avoid it
and in anger bashed
at the mountain
rising in front of him
and the mountain shattered
while tremendous lightning bolts blazed it
causing the mountain to fall
over the god’s breast
and the hound tried to kill him
but he knocked it
right over the mountain
with lightning bolts sizzling over it.
[Reference: Gluskap’s Hound by T.G. Roberts.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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2090 - The Journey of an immortal
Having a third eye
in front of your forehead
is strictly disturbing!
I told him,
And what are those things?
wrapped around all over your body
Oh they are snakes!
it doesn't help a bit either!
I added.
What was your name again?
You filthy immortal with a cursed mouth!
He asked without any voice.
Me...! Umm...
I'm just an innocent bystander,
was just passing by and saw you,
sitting here all alone by the woods!
BTW why are you alone like this?
It doesn't feel right in any way!
like a frightened kid,
I lied.
'Tis not right! Not right at all!
And 'tis been a long time!
A long time indeed! Since,
someone went this way.
Don't you dare lie to me,
you damned immortal!
You are much more than that!
I am not a fool, though
I've been abandoned by my people!
People I've cared a lot for,
and FYI, I helped them a lot too!
He thundered, exactly like an
extinct god supposed to thunder.
Have you not known that,
You are having the same fate
as all the others?
I asked,
I'm a lonely wanderer, a truth-seeker!
I've passed thousands of mountains,
numerous water-ways, countless roads!
Met more souls than a single immortal
ever would in his long, long lifetime!
I added.
YOUR POINT IN TELLING ME ALL THESE?
he seemed angry with me,
or himself for a fact.
Oh! Shush! I've no fear of you!
You're just a statue of an extinct god!
And without your precious followers,
you're nothing, a null! If I may,
I'm just explaining that I already met the others!
Others who share the same fate as you!
on my way here,
I just passed a statue of Buddha
which was covered in a
five centimeters thick layer of dust!
Can you guess what he was doing ATM...?
He was doing his famous and amazing
fire-and-water-at-the-same-time thing
it never did scare me enough!
In fact I always thought it was awesome!
And of course...before that, I passed
A Christian church with a huge Jesus statue
which was concealed by the growing forest!
Neither were visited in a long time,
And neither were well cared for!
I helped the Jesus get off his cross too
He was still angry at some dude called
ALMIGHTY! ! !
I guess it never worked for them eh? ? ?
But he helped me fix my-recently-cracked rib,
which was totally cool indeed! ! !
Why aren't you speaking Oh wise one?
Realizing your fate frightens you, I guess!
Hang in there Oh mighty old one!
Wait until 'they' realize 'their' fates! ! !
The clock is ticking, and the time is running!
It won't take too long for 'them' to turn back
Once they do, Remorse will eat 'them' alive
They'll come running back to you!
Regretting what they've said and done,
They'll beg for your mercy, your help!
They'll beg for a way out of their conscious minds!
And BTW I gotta go, Oh wise old one!
I gotta find the one, the ONE who is all!
The one who is called Allahuwathala!
Always wanted to speak with him one day,
Never got the chance because he's everywhere!
poem by Pamuditha Zen Anjana
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I Would Not Be A King
I would not be a king--enough
Of woe it is to love;
The path to power is steep and rough,
And tempests reign above.
I would not climb the imperial throne;
’Tis built on ice which fortune’s sun
Thaws in the height of noon.
Then farewell, king, yet were I one,
Care would not come so soon.
Would he and I were far away
Keeping flocks on Himalay!
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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To Italy
As the sunrise to the night,
As the north wind to the clouds,
As the earthquake's fiery flight,
Ruining mountain solitudes,
Everlasting Italy,
Be those hopes and fears on thee.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Philosophers Bones
He’s given them all to a Desert Man
Underdog bitten holes of the head
He’s given them all to a Desert Man
Unleashed sunflower sunward led
He’s given them all to a Desert Man
In windblown power the dinas bled
He’s given them all to a Desert Man
Like tears in the desert rose shed
Stone alone atoned in the last sand clock
Soul alone attained keyed within the lock
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Forces of Nature
When there is silence outside under the snow
I wish I could be a stone watching from below
The cold masses would provide me with peace
A state of mind I would love to increase
When there is a sandstorm arriving in a big cloud
I want to be able to withstand it alone in a crowd
The sand would surround me and rub against my skin
Like an innocent warm embrace rocking my body within
When there is a thunderstorm with great force
I want to use the lightening as an energy source
The electricity would rejuvenate my tired soul
The loud thunder would chase me out of my black whole
When a hurricane is turning the sky pitch black
I want to be outside and bathe in its violent attack
The winds would carry me to distant lands and oceans
And the rains would nurture my starved emotions
When a storm crowns the ocean with white foam
Swallowed by the water I would never miss home
Crashing waves would destroy every vessel at sea
But I understand the hunger and can't disagree
When the sun shines bright and it's peaceful outside
I could disappear behind large shadows or hide
The tall grass would cradle me until I'm fast asleep
Dreaming of the forces of nature for me to keep
© 2011
poem by Kristina Louisa Carr
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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