IconElegies

As my death approached, I was no longer the rat they dug out of the hole. I got myself back. I didn't want to negotiate, pray, still less beg for mercy, and there was none. All I had was death. On my last night, they mocked, laughed at me, dared to offer me a hood to hide my face. Yes, I had seen death before. A note from the poet. Saddam Hussein was the dictator of Iraq .

I was famous for my beauty, though no one knows  what I really looked like. No one knows  if I was really a pharaoh, and where I disappeared to,  suddenly, never to return. Only fragments of me do you read, only fragments that survived. Perhaps you will find the answer, when a thousand years have passed. Poet's Note. Nefertiti was the wife of Pharaoh Akhenaten, who is also suspected of being a rare female pharaoh.

I was the emperor of Mexico. For a while. I assumed that the people wanted me, that's why I accepted the crown, after all, my brother was the emperor, but I was a commodity. The people hated me, even though I improved their lives, or at least their instigator. I asked my executioners not to shoot me in the face, so that my mother would still know me. I asked and I forgave. A poet's note. Maximilian of Austria-Hungary was the emperor of Mexico for a while.

My heart did not burn even in fire, in my life it burned, without thinking about anything, and I obeyed. My wife kept my heart for decades, and that was the longest she had me. My heart could not withstand the storm at sea either, and stopped beating when it drowned. It washed up with its master on the Italian beach sand. How else could a poet have died? Poet's note. Percy Shelley was one of the most famous poets of the Romantic era.

They sold me as the Elephant Man because of my ugly appearance, even though I was born clean, like everyone else. I was really Joseph Merrick, a human, even they though I didn't look like one. I was saved from a freak show, but I wasn't made human. My skeleton wasn't buried with me, it was studied for years,  but never my soul.  I just wanted to sleep like everyone else. Poet's Note. Joseph Merrick was called the Elephant Man because of the deformities of his body.

A moment before I died, I somehow managed to raise my hand to command, as it was accustomed to doing. They didn't listen, but I had time to see how afraid they were, even though I was helpless. They let me lie on the floor, waiting for me to stop breathing, so that they could breathe freely themselves, when I'm gone. Death will not end with me. Poet's note. Joseph Stalin is still known as one of the most cruel dictators.

I hated my name since I was a child. Little Boot, Caligula, what a name. No one dared to say it to me. I hated it when I was called a madman, never to me. I thought I was God, I was, I could do whatever I wanted. But the one I abused the most, that was the one that struck me first, and I cried blood. How was that possible. A poet's note. Caligula was assassinated. He was one of the most famous Roman emperors.

I never thought I would live forever after my horrible end but I thought  that something like that might happen that my body would be preserved for generations to come in that strange communist church. I was a man and not God, not an object of worship. That's what I objected to. But that's what I became for years, until they no longer knew what to do with me until I fall into pieces and there's no use for me anymore. A note from the poet. Vladimir Lenin still lies in his mausoleum.

As my last wish, I asked my friend to destroy my writings, but he didn't follow my wish. I am more famous than ever, the idol of all strange people. And I only wrote about the world as I saw it, strange and frightening. But I wasn't alone. That was a surprise. A poet's note. Franz Kafka is one of the most famous writers.

I only did what I was told. I had to hide behind it, because there was no other option. Emotions have no part in this. I considered myself an official of Death, An architect of destruction, but I don't want glory for this. Who would? I have no regrets, I only did what I was told. Poet's note. High-ranking Nazi Adolf Eichmann was responsible, among other things, for transports to death camps during World War II.

Was I a crazy king, a dreamer? They gave my crown to my crazy brother. They thought I was crazy, but how crazy is it to love beauty, to build beautiful castles, which people admire centuries later, to sleep by day, to live by night, to live in the embrace of sweet melancholy, alone, without formalities. Yes. Such a crazy king was I. Poet's note. Ludwig II was a very special king of Bavaria.

Paradise is lost, I, Judas, know. Christ asked me to betray Himself. I betrayed. I threw the silver coins into the temple. I hanged myself and my filthy life was over. But I still live, in all men lives a Judas. All betray their ideals in the end. They admit that they are Judases before they acknowledge that Love concerns all beggars of mercy. Poet's note. Judas Iscariot betrayed Jesus.

Under the ice of the Neva I realized that I had come to you, God. This time forever and for good. I was Your God, but I was called a deceiver and a libertine, I was one of those, but I knew You, God. You me. Grigori Rasputin was not a lie, they couldn't even kill me. Oh Tsarevich, poor thing, dirty Rasputin will not save and heal you, I know, the Emperor will be destroyed. Poets note. Grigori Rasputin is a landmark in history.

Death is a long time to wait knowing that it will inevitably come. And I could not wait any longer. Your head falls and the people have had their revenge. I am hated as I was once admired. Lies and slander, there's enough of that. So short was the path from glory to the darkest dungeon that it turned me gray. I had nothing but my pride with the people mocking in the background the whole way to the guillotine. I kept it, my pride, and the people had their revenge. Queen Marie Antoinette was executed by guillotine.

Hollywood kills nightingales and spits them out. That's what happened to me. Dreams didn't come true, tragedy was enough. One drunken night, I had enough  of your Hollywoodland, and I immortalized myself in history  by jumping off of you. I might have thought that I would be remembered for this. And so it was. I failed in life, but not at everything. And in a cruel irony, I would have gotten  the role of a woman committing suicide. I did it. Poet's note, Peg Entwistle committed suicide in 1932 by jumping off the iconic Hollywood sign.  

I was an angel of the poor, poor myself, although luck was with me, but I was not allowed to live long, death grew in my womb, which took me. I loved the poor, I hated the elite, I spoke to the poor when death was already waiting for me. I never abandoned them. I was feared even after death, my embalmed body traveled the world, until I was allowed to return, to my beloved Argentina. Poet's note. Eva Peron was the wife of President Juan Peron and a figure beloved by the people.

I was real.  So many have pretended to be me. The lost daughter of the Tsar, even though  I was supposed to be born a son, an heir. But I died, like all the rest of us. Before I had to die, I blossomed for a short time. I still remember the shots, the death cries of my sisters, the end of the dynasty. I was not a foolish girl, I was a victim of my time, Grand Duchess Anastasia. A poet's note. There are many stories about Anastasia Romanova, but she was murdered in 1918 along with the rest of the Tsar's family.

The cruel Tsar locked his son in a dungeon. What a weak-minded, willless, depiction of a man, the Tsar thought of his son. The son was afraid, of his father, a great, mighty, giant force of nature. God was his father to him, a God he feared. One day the Tsar appeared in the dungeon. Only the Father returned. Poets note. This poem is about Peter the Great and his son, Aleksei. 

Genghis Khan fathered countless killed even more countless but his tomb was never found he hid his final resting place more unnoticed than he ever did anything in his life it was taken care of by the slain builders and guards somewhere in the Mongolian steppes he rests blessing his best plan knowing his place in history thinking of new conquests in all solitude letting others search for himself when he has found

I knew everyone who stabbed me with their daggers. I would have been a fool not to have known that it was coming. They attacked me like unruly brats, and yet just one blow killed me. Me Julius Caesar. Then I knew, and I covered my face for death. Poets note. Gaius Julius Caesar was a Roman general and dictator