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Inspirational History Poems | Inspirational Poems About History

These Inspirational History poems are examples of Inspirational poems about History. These are the best examples of Inspirational History poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Rhyme | |

Tartan and Pipes

Tradition and dress
A nations finesse
Symbolic in style
By a country mile
 
The drone of the pipes
Tartan clad
Bonnie on the girls
Proud on the lads
 
Highland dancers
In kilted skirts 
Grooms at weddings
Kilt and dirk

But our Tartan and Pipes
Go back many years
Led soldiers into battles
See the enemy fear

After Culloden
Both were banned
A country naked
At the English hand

Our clans of many
In colours so grand
Woven by weavers
Our women's hands

All over the world
Scots are spread
Taking their Tartans
Of green, blue and red

It's a welcome reminder
To the kin of their past
Never forgotten
Designed to last

This plaid of cloth
History enriched
Scottish pride
In every stitch

And like our pipes
From centuries past
This Scottish of Scots
Are here to last


http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/scotland.php


Details | Free verse | |

THE HANGING TREE

Dead men tell no tails, or so the winds of 
Destiny’s say.
On judgment hill from on high, 
Voices do echo downwards, as the 
Noose does sway, back and forth, on the
Hangman's tree.
These gallows, of oaken branches, act as tethers,
 Shackles, holding the forsaken, souls prisoner.
Ghost phantoms cling, to it's rotten limbs,
That break beneath times endless rampage.
Regrets fallen horsemen, of the old west, 
Stand guard, sentinels on horse back,
Wearing a tarnished tin star.
God's law keepers, are  branded, sworn,
By their honor, to protect even after death,
The gates of heaven, from this spawn of hell.
Beware evil desperadoes, no mercy will
This the lord's posses show unto you, 
For these riders bare a different mark.
A silver cross of justice, given by
The Almighty’s hand himself.
Say thy prayers, all lawless men,
For on this day, does the rope tighten,
Around your neck, there is no reprieve,
No salvation for evils deceit.
Hell bound are thou, the devils breed.
But beware, there is no escape,
From this grave site.
At dawns first light, as it spreads
 Across the western horizon.
Know that yee, are one of many spirits
Doomed, to be weaved within the
Tangled limbs, called the hang
Mans tree.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN


 


 

 


 

 


 

 


 


Details | Free verse | |

EDGER ALL POE

Our dark founding father, of American literature,
A sinister beacon of darkness, lighting the way
Into the darkened abyss of mankind’s soul.
Within the galleria of madness, he is the
Grandmaster of the black ink, and it's
 Written words of terror.
In thus the shadow realm, does his spirit
Still roam, on the cutting edge of fear,
A fine thin line, is drawn between reality,
And fictions illusionary world.
Life's a shunned, abandonment’s creation,
The lord's misbegotten son, embraced
The night's cloak, in it's power
His only salvation unto history's
 Remembrance, is found a truth's
Justice and notability's respect.
Loves passionate compliant servant,
Dashed against the rocks of life itself,
Broken and damaged, he rose above
The waves of poverty, and the under
 Current of tragedies broken
Heart.
Some may say he wrote from the after
Effects that laid, at the bottom
 Of the bottle.
Or afterfeeds drug endued comma, dulling
The emotional nerves concept between
Right and wrong, the social exceptionable
Norm.
But we care not what others wish to believe,
For we honor him, those of us the dark poets,
As the father whom lead the way, between
Light and dark.
Dearest Edger Allen Poe, the legend, the man,
A spiritual dark representative, with pens quailed
Ink at his command.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN




















Details | Epic | |

The Promise's Beginning

Somewhere in midnight’s nocturnal hallways
As the chill settles down with starlight
While the world stands silent in waiting
There abiding with his flock walks the shepherd
Hopeful in thought and yet weary of foot
He moves his charges through the bite of night

His hope in the coming dawn lifts his burdens
Filling his minds eye with warm musings of tomorrow
In tones they beseech the day and challenge darkness
But through this constant cycle of shine and shadow
The guardian of the flock stands steadfast and waits

The promise begins as His voice appears cherubically 
Falling in fear and praying for strength of faith
The radiance in the sky softens ever slightly
Speaking of the vow and announcing the messiah
Who brings the world a love and a hope yet tasted

Tremulous breath’s as the promise is spoken
Awing the greatness with a loving and respectful fear
Silent in belief beholding the coming miracle
He stirs the somnolent flock down the slopes
To bestow upon all the gift of this divine hour

His breath brittle’s the final icy moments of dusk
He labors the trail with renewed strength of heart
Proclaiming hushed gratitude within every step
A beacon of brilliance converges in the heavens
Beckoning his faithful west toward little Bethlehem

Dropping to his knees his face wetted in thanks
Finally understanding what is gripping his soul
He sees the precarious pathway laid before him
Though he has journeyed into the unknown before
None had brought with it a promise so precious




Details | Free verse | |

Children of the Divine Wind

Many times the ocean has saved Nippon, pearl of the sea, an oceanic symbiosis a speck in a fecund see. The dikes of man such miniscule plans to hold back the tide. The throngs, each and all crawl across the thin skin of volcanic soil or rise with in the hump-backed alps of remnant cones. Yet, the sea rises to reclaim its own scour the pallet of man, refine, burnish melt, reform. With pen and sword kanji drawn, samurai born with knife and bone entrails torn, honor tested tested by the hand of He, tested and found worthy. The children of the Divine Wind rise above the tsunami, as one, unbowed.


Details | Ode | |

MY ODE TO THE NETHERLANDS

I sat down to study the Netherlands tried to gather all the scoop
Entering every contest cause I'm new to Poetry Soup

I read all the poetry masters to grow I must surely invest
What I've discovered in almost no time is why Soup poets are the best

Zerbst wrote an anthem with some amazing poetic twist
Made me wish I was from Freisland this sprawling sealand really exist

Dr. Ram wrote a history thesis he even quotes the great Shakespeare 
The Netherlands in an Italian sonnet another masterpiece was here

Cornish obviously did his homework in couplet form he holds command
Displays the heart and pride of the people when I read his words I want to stand

Andrea's the Soup contest master so you knew she'd draw her pen
With perfection her ode to Freisland, Ms. Dietrich has done it once again

I could go on with the works on Netherlands a shout out to John, Ralph, and Tim
A descriptive write by Huberta van Akkeren, these odes will make sweet Elly grin

So I learned all about the Netherlands another ode wasn't needed from me
To be proud of this majestic country... May she ever be beautiful and free!

Sponsor: Elly Wouterse
Contest Name: Your ode to 'my' Netherlands and/or 'my' Friesland

3-4-14
*Happy Birthday Elle!
 


Details | Free verse | |

THE JOURNAL


In the dusty cobwebs of my inspirational mind,
I’ve written volumes of scripted details, pondered
Epic thoughts, and let mine imagination roam the
Fields of complete abandonment.
A wild child of freedom’s reckless spirit, I’m dived
Head first into the untamed wilderness of the human
Stratosphere, seeking beyond the unknown country
Of the mental unconscious mind, then free fallen into
The waves of insecurity, rescued by mine own self
Sustaining life preserver, called survival.
Line by line I’ve written into my life journal, leaving a
Legacy behind me worth preservation’s finest gilding,
Bound are these pages of mine existence with love,
Tenderness, and freshly cut rose petals, of remembrance.
Reflected in the cover of my life book, are the joyous
Faces of those whom loved me beyond words of
Expressions comprehension, without emotions tears
For they celebrate my life, not with sorrows regrets
But with prides respect and honor.
Through hell’s fire I’ve rambled and traveled, being
Tested by friend and foe alike, but I’ve lifted myself
Beyond the flames of reality, bathing within the warmth
Of a divine faith of loves power everlasting.
I’ve been given the spark of the eternal, it breathes
Within me, it drives my spiritual being, to over come
Ignorance, intolerance and ambience sloth of spirit.
At times I’ve been tempted to dance, against the flame
That flickers in the night, teasing me, taunting me,
To choose wrong or right, but mine feet stood stead
Fast, yielding only in my secret world of dreams escape.
Yes I’ve mused amongst the fantasy realm,
Flying, soaring into the abyss of illusions mirrors,
Clashing as a bird smacking at the glass of reality,
But I’ve awakened wiser, a soldier better prepared
For the battle known as life.
In this journal I bequeath all that is the best of myself,
To those for whom I’ve touched, and in memories moments
Of stilled realization that I’ve gone, dare let no tears blind
Thine vision let no words of sorrow spill from your trembling
Lips just do me the one last favor for which I ask of thee,
Simply look upwards, and smile.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN


Details | Prose Poetry | |

SHATTERING THE SHACKLES

     SHATTERING THE SHACKLES…
     (APROPOS  RESURRECTION)…

I shall no longer be your tragedy
     or divine comedy;
Nor the phantom pain of the fake penitence
    you proclaim.
I will no longer wallow in despair
     nor put down the me inside.
Today, I am a phoenix rising
     from the ashes of shame; rising 
From the ‘buked and the scorn of today!

I am the new sunshine of the old rain,
     created and molded 
By God’s hands; anointed to bring back
     peace and the love; and
To shatter the shackles from children’s minds.
     Today I am the needle.
The needle in the eye of injustice;
     the needle re-stitching the ripped veil
Re-stitching the ripped veil of our unity:
     regaining community.

I am the new child of the old songs the ancestors sung:
     a healing hymn!
I am the new talking drum…echoing…
     de dump…de dump…de dump…

	“And before I be a slave,
	I’ll be buried in my grave;
	And go home to my Lord
	And be free.”

Yes, I am a new day begun.  The dream’s reality won.
     And I shall not be moved.
I shall walk the green mile as a new Nile child
     And by His hands,
I shall survive the tribulations and the trial.
     By His hand,
I am the new light of the day, guiding us along the way.
     Send me I said!
Roll of thunder…echo my cry.  Roll of thunder echo my shout!
     Rise!  My people…Rise!…
Let Peace and Love ring out!   Shout!


Details | Narrative | |

The Ghost Dance

A shaman prays, the Spirit hears
While a Seventh Calvary regiment waits
Unarmed, a tribe endures a Union's hate
Their animosities, and their fears
As the blue coats begin to circle...
Their wrath begins to circle.

That shaman saw but a single Spirit
That was split between different beliefs
He could accept the white Spirit Chief
But the white men would not hear it
They would not blend their God
With the red heathen God.

Anger explodes behind powdered shot
Spraying death from muzzled shame
Cruelly winning their ill gotten fame
Painted heroes claim a tainted spot
History claims the Ghost Dance...
As death claims the last dance.

A Dakota creek runs darkly red
Forever silencing the Ghost Dance
A chanting shaman dies in his trance
One hundred fifty Sioux lay dead
Now, only blue coats remain...
Only the blue remain.

A creek ran red with Union shame
When a shaman called the Spirit Great
And that Spirit did not hesitate
He fell on Wounded Knee and came
To take His people home...
His people swiftly home.


                                     Timothy I. Brumley



Details | Free verse | |

Legendary Lady Leaders I salute you

I am like
Cleopatra
embraced by serpents many
fear
always trying something new
and dramatic with my
hair
I am like
Eva Patrón
growing up with a painful family
getting lost in movies
thinking of my own
hypnotizing when I speak
First lady of Argentina
meeting you, after death
would be a treat
a nervous habit, of nibbling
on my jewelry
the similarities, between us
gave me a sense of foolery
I am like
Wilma Mankiller
Chief of the Cherokee Tribe
for ten years
fighting against Native stereotypes
despite such distress
enemies did stress
promoting to ‘be of good mind’
you were a leader, of your time
an advocator for women
that they may grow up
and become chief
as a child, you wondered
the forests, like me
not the streets
I am like
Aung San Suu Kyi
wearing three types of 
flowers in your hair
feeling at times like a 
‘splinter of glass, sharp, glinting
power to defend itself against hands
that try to crush’
winner of a Nobel Peace Prize, 
for courage, was
a must
I am like
Catherine The Great
a love to laugh,
coffee, and feeling compelled
to always fill abandoned blank
sheets of paper
you were a Royal Russian Empress,with
not one red drop of Russian blood
and her people, were blessed
to have her
I am like
the Queen of England
longest royal lifetime in history
strong built, from a miserable childhood
toughened her
this is no mystery
preferring candle light
to electricity
handwriting over typewriter
and poetry
I am like
Indira Gandhi
dreaming to live as she did
riding elephants and having
tiger cubs as companions
your own Sikh security
killed you, the story
a sad one
secret dreams of being a writer
angered, by the imbalance of
power
between men and women
listening to beat poets
like Ginsberg
as a great Prime Minister of India 
you were heard
and understood
I am like
Rigoberta Menchú
drew the worlds attention to 
native Indians rights,
because of you
your goal, to be
a drop of water on a rock
dripping in the same spot,
eventually in the world, you
may leave a mark
wearing many colors
‘because it gives you life’
insisting men and women be equals
you fought this fight
to relax, as I do
writing poetry into
 the night
I am like
Joan of Arc
French Military Heroine
burned at the stake at just
age nineteen
known for keeping your cool
even on the battlefield
being a courageous and inspirational
rare jewel
Legendary Lady Leaders
I salute you



Details | Quatrain | |

Inlets and Islands

Amidst these inlets and islands
Lies a land of a patriot nation
Where clans decree their might
Together in mixed relation

From the Lowlands to the Highlands
Family names of a forgotten past
Deliver us to their present
For these surnames are here to last

Sunrises and sunsets have so greeted
Many a morn and an eve has been seen
To be born into such a nation
Through their eyes, you see just your dream

For to be born on the land of the heather
Through Glens of bracken and fern's
Birthed into one of their clans
Your first breath you have duly earned

Amidst these inlets and islands
Lies a land of a patriot nation
Where clans decree their might
Welcome to Alba, the ultimate creation 



http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/ed-unitsky.php


Details | Rhyme | |

A MEMORIAL TO MARTIN LUTHER KING JR

Words would fail me if I might assay
To articulate the courage of this man.
The numerous facets of his dossier
Are subject for song in a distant land.
Awakened in youth from serene dreams
By the melodious blast of Israel’s horn.
Tall standing received earth’s esteems,
Accepting God’s charge wherefore he was born.

His marble image cleaves the bluest sky,
And his halo is now a crown about his brow.
His peace of mind earth can no longer deny,
For he has now fulfilled his earthly vow.
It can only suppose with the midnight of the mind,
What may be reason’s welcome morning  star.
One day he may return even more divine,
With a holier task from God who reigns from afar.

There’s no thunder heard from Sinai’s height,
And we see no parting waves at Jordan’s bank.
We have followed no truer soldier in our darkest night,
And now are marching on bravely in file and rank.
Rolling on in faith toward the welcome dawn,
The good fight won he’s earned the honor of Moses.
Now trekking  the soul’s desert to the divine throne,
He follows God’s light up the street of yellow roses.


Details | Couplet | |

Loony Tunes

<                                        Cascading lakes and streams
                                           The loon stands out it seems

                                           Minnesota's state bird
                                           I know it must sound absurd


                                           Adopted in nineteen sixty one
                                           Wails and yodels heard under the sun


                                          Black and white bearing red eyes
                                          Wingspans five feet can make one cry


                                          Body lengths up to three feet
                                          Yet  clumsy on lands and moss peat


                                          They are high speed flyers
                                          And great underwater divers


                                          They can dive up to ninety feet
                                          In pursuit of fish they want to eat

                                      
                                         They are even on our license plates
                                         An critical habitat drawn on metal slates


                                         Twelve thousand of these unique birds
                                         God that has to be a lot of turds

 
                                        But for now I'll enjoy it's captured views
                                        Of this beautiful loon and it's most colorful hues








Written By Katherine Stella
Entry For Mini - Blog  Beautiful Bird Contest
By Constance ~ A Rambling Poet


Details | Free verse | |

THE ALAMO

An earthen gray memorial stands alone against
A rugged desert landscape, built by the mortal
Hands of the faithful.
No bells do ring, in the churches steeple, but in the
Heart of Texas it's sounding message can never
Be silenced, remember the Alamo.
For the fighting men of valor's honors sacrificed,
All for liberation's call to freedom.
Listen to their whispering voices, traveling
 Across the tangle weed dunes, and harken unto 
Them, never to surrender even after death, do
They fight for country, hearth, and home.
These pioneer men whom built this nation's
Backbone, carved it out, with steeled bowie knife
Sharpened edge, and musket balls powder's flash.
Gathered here, for one last hurrah’s gallant stand off,
To the victor's gaining everlasting immortality.
 Gallantry’s brave, shed their dearest blood, sacrificing
Giving everything they had,  including life itself.
Cannon thunder bolts roar, as lightening rods raw force
Striking against mortars harden walls, yet the
Spirits of bravery strong, did not yield, or raise 
The white shield of surrender. 
Keep thy black powder dry, lift your rifles high,
But don't fire men, until you see the whites of
Your enemies eyes.
Under the hailing of gunfire’s smoke, did hells
Storm rage, both sides dying for their country's
Beliefs right or wrong.
Death's battlefield littered with fragments deceased,
A graveyard left unattended, wars unfortunate 
Fallen, became salvation’s tribute to behold, in the distance
A tattered flag, still waves in the winds of freedom.
Bricks of defense, shattered as if made of glass, 
Debris spewing outwards, towards martyred legacy's
Champions, killing many before they hit the ground, 
Receiving remains of the valiant dead.
Oh in the heaven's trumpets did herald, these
Courageous souls, welcoming honored soldiers, home wards
Unto God's boundless country, for these explorers
To discover the horizon's endless divides beyond.
Prisoners living, taken by horse and rider were forced
To bow, beneath a foreign banners alien flag.
Yet even than their American hearts didn't waiver,
Until the swords steel severed life, from the fleshes beating
Drumming from within.
But the last warrior yelled a rebels battle cry,
And as he fell with his last dying breath,
Yelled out,
Remember the Alamo!!

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN


Details | Free verse | |

Undivided

Pieces of history 
We clutch to our chests
Life changing 
Heartbreaking 

Devastation
 



These events 
Which seek to crush us
Do not
For they hold us together

Making us stronger 
 



More firm are we 
In our resolve
To be one nation
Under God

Indivisible


Details | Rhyme | |

BLAME WHO?

Don’t point your finger at the thief
For losing sovereignty
It’s not the fault of Hollywood
If God, we don’t believe.

The pace of life accelerated
When first we wouldn’t wait
To seek Divine direction at
The start of every day.

Then babies resting in the womb
Broken, limb from limb,
With suctioned brains in bio-bags
Or moved to stem-cell bins.

Children raised by villages so 
They won’t be in the way
Of self-absorbed, unfeeling parents
Selfishly at play.

We teach them they are primates
With no purpose to their life,
Then wonder why some children
Choose death to calm their strife.

Eight were saved from flooding rains
And four from Sodom’s Gloom,
Where are the righteous found today
To escape a pending doom?

The Second book, Chronicles,
Gives warnings we must heed
To evade the coming judgment in
Chapter seven and verse fourteen.
	
Yes, judgment stands before this land
We call the U.S.A.
The source is not the sinner but
Those called by HIS own name.

Would be better to deny HIM,
To remain one with the world,
Than to falsely represent  HIM
And defile HIS HOLY WORD!

The third of HIS Commandment Laws
Means more than blasphemy,
It’s how we wear the name of Christ
When someone else can see.

God’s patience thins so GRACEfully
Til Israel stands alone,
Then comes our condemnation from 
“I AM”, still on HIS throne.

Yet the only way to turn around
Fierce judgments sure to come, 
Depends on true repentance from
The ones that wear HIS name. 

To those of us, HIS Mercies claim
Let’s join, repent, and pray,  
That GOD will heal our wayward land 
And spare HIS WRATH today!


Details | Rhyme | |

Plockton - Wester Ross

The greatest holiday gift I ever received  
Goes back so many, many years
Before my life became turmoiled
And before my tears for fears

I was a child like many out there
Torn, strewn and split of kin
Mother and father in differences
Confused at seven, wearing their same skin

For I was one of the lucky ones
To a Highland Estate I would go
It's on the west coast of Scotland
Where my holidays desired me so

Secretly I internally smiled
For a whisper of where I was heading
To live with a movie star hero
No longer my life was in dreading

We were picked up by a man so fine
His manners were an absolute joy
Regimental he was in his approach
To me, just a seven year old boy

We travelled through the village of Plockton
Crystal clear waters edged to it's shore
I knew from this very moment
Being here ebbed previous family sores

On entering his house I was in awe
Movie pictures came to my view
They were images of James Bond
At seven I was totally through

A voice called to me
Hey James! sit down and I'll tell you me
Still in circles in walking awe
This is what he told thee

My name is Patrick Dalzel Job
In the Second World War I served
But this recognition I bestow
Humbles me to it's deserve

This honour that's been given
Was blessed by a colleague in war
What desired Ian Fleming to be so striven
Possibly, what we were fighting for

We served on the same destroyer
Fighting to make the future free
His tribute, in his novels I became
James Bond, it's incredibly me





Not many seven year olds have stayed with James Bond.
This seven year old Scot's boy has, maybe I learnt?
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Patrick_Dalzel-Job


Details | Free verse | |

A Declaration On Independence Day

On Independence Day
I declare  independence 
from American imperialism.
I declare U.S. out of Iraq.
And while I am at it
the C.I.A. out of the business
of supplying murderous thugs
with rifles and uniforms 
along with the strategies 
to extinguish
democracy in Haiti.
I also call for the pullout
of State Department funding
in the not so secret 
overthrowing
of the fair and duly elected
President of Venezuela.
On Independence Day
I have the right to say
we need a new policy.
Therefore, I call
for independence from oil.
I call for windmills 
and solar panels
and cool looking hybrid cars 
getting 100 miles to the gallon.
I am tired of chanting
No Blood For Oil.
On Independence Day
I look to a nation
involved in war for war's sake
war to simulate the economy
and make our leaders look great
and call for a different fate.
I declare our politicians
give up corporate sponsorship
and live up to this great nation's
highest aspirations.
Freedom from
illegal occupation.
Freedom from 
propaganda and torture.
Freedom from 
criminal actions
on sovereign nations.
I declare transcendence.
I declare we live up to
life, liberty and the pursuit
of happiness
for all humanity.
I declare world independence
from monarchies, theocracies
totalitarianism, oligarchies 
and otherwise puppet regimes.
And I declare we all share these 
inalienable rights. 
Including the right to assemble 
organize and form unions.
Protect the health 
of our elders
newborns and the environment.
And I refuse those who would
deny blacks
the same rights as whites
by suppressing their vote 
with twelve hour lines
in the blistering cold.
Let us all have our say!
And while I am at it
give the poor a megaphone
on mainstream talk shows
let their voices be heard
in the court of public opinion.
I declare freedom from
billionaire owned media
conglomerations.
Let independent democracy
infiltrating the television.
Thus let us all speak our truth
and be protected 
from the tyrannical majority
and those empowered by the muzzle.
I declare that our forefathers
envisioned this and much more
in the age of enlightenment.
So that one day
every one of us
on this magnificent planet
regardless of class or culture
national and religious origin
sexual persuasion or gender
would be endowed and empowered
by an independent
yet universal 
human rights agenda.


Dean Walker


Details | Haiku | |

It is now

Ain't a word, you said.
but it takes a daring gust 
for things start to be.


Details | Free verse | |

THE GRAVEYARD OF SHIPS

Beneath the fathom’s deep, in wreckage’s graveyard
Of the forgotten, here the broken bones of ships lie still,
Covered in a forest of seaweeds greenery.
Corrosion steel hauls ripped wide open, lay against ancient
Wooden beams from vessels voyages, of long ages distant past.
Faded names, render no clues reference, for the maritime detective.
But tragedies lost vessels, did ride upon the frothy foam, 
And spray above, sailing the big blues timeless tides.
Nay Poseidon's toll ti’s payed in sailors flesh, melting
Humanities dreams beneath his drowning waves.
Beauties fare, and proud are they, the crippled, 
Swallowed whole by the aquatic storms avenging rage.
Mercy's mere-angels weep thus, for the mortal souls lost,
Guiding them towards their spiritual resting place below,
And welcoming them unto their fathers kingdom beneath,
The abysses darkening depths.
Torn asunder is mankind's well hued craft, shattered
Into bits pieces, large to small, a glittering shards
Rain of destruction. crashing into the muddy bottom,
Of the under belly of the sea itself.
Deaf are the silent cry's of men, whom leave only
Bubbles streaming upwards, as their last epitaphs
Tribute for thy existence.
The devil's gardens, swim these black waters,
Turning them crimson red, sharp toothed monsters,
Feasting upon carrion discarded left overs.
Dark figures, phantom creatures, lurking just below,
The briny surface, awaiting for the Poseidon’s next victim,
To join the graveyard of ships.
Faded are their names, forgotten titles, as the paint
Peels, on the once majestic vessels.
Now they remain wreckage’s ruins, abandon to the
Mercy of erosion masterful hand of destruction.
Hear the sounding clanging of bells, whom ring in
Silences of troubled waters abode, it is the cracking 
Of doom, beware thy young lad, he whom seeks fortunes
Favor abroad, for only fools test the might of the sea,
Against thy own grit and survive.
Thus thee shed a tear for the fallen, dear lad, 
For no other will on the dead’s behalf, in thine
Cemetery of the graveyard of ships. no passages
Return tickets are given.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
SPIRITUAL-HISTORICAL
02-03-2914






  


Details | Free verse | |

The American Flag, It Is You



A symbol of respect, pride, and strength,
not to be ruffled, wadded, or soiled,
to be folded, unfurled, raised for all to see,
as in going into battle resounding victory.

Not to be tattered, torn, or burned in effigy,
rather a symbol of hope to those in bondage,
of hate for those who seek to enslave,
of patriotism to those who guard fiercely,
enshrined with those who died for liberty,
entrusted to each generation to decide its fate,
to be the most loved or most hated,
to be seen in every city, state, and on foreign soil,
wherever seen, America is found.

No other symbol rises above or would be allowed,
representing freedom, recognized the world round,
a powerful adversary to an enemy
a gentle giant to those who are represented.

A symbol of red and white, 
with fifty shining stars on a field of blue,
call it a flag,
in reality it is you.


Details | Kyrielle | |

ANTICPATING THE THRILL OF THE HOLIDAYS

Nippy air bites the skin, sunlight trails off in a sky so morose;  
bare trees contemplate the yellow grass below mourning their lost splendor;
be that messenger of the Season's Greetings and avoid being sad and alone...
welcome to my holiday home at this special time of the year!


Assist me in decorating the pine-scented and candle-lit rooms ,
of my lair; please, come in and accept my hospitality with ardor;
let's chat over dinner and sparkling wine until darkness looms... 
welcome to my holiday home at this special time of the year!


Anticipate the thrill of the Holidays with a big smile spreading cheer:
dream of snow, of Santa riding his sleigh from the cold North Pole;
he'll remember every good kid who has shown obedience and grace...
welcome to my holiday home at this special time of the year!


I looked for a Christmas Tree crossing the snowy boardline,
searching the nearest forest for the tallest, prittiest one
with the help of neighbors who had a good will and no fear...
welcome to my holiday home at this special time of year!  


So much I will share and learn this Holiday Season announcing a divine birth
to the Earth below brightened by candles, twinkling lights and mirth; 
admire my decorations of garlands and golden bells to make you merrier...
welcome to my Holiday home at this very special time of year!


Family, friends and neighbors gather around this fireplace that will bewilder us,
let's remember the wonderful birth of our Savior Jesus, who came to visit us;
hear the song of the angels echoing through the chilly air...
welcome to my holiday home at this special time of year!





Details | Rhyme | |

Jesus footles

Jesus came  
                  was slain

 crucified  died

                      he's alive

Jesus is risen
                    we forgiven

compassionate friend 
                             untill the end

father spirit son
                        three in one

Bibles read
                well fed
 sing 
      to our king

pray
      everyday 


Jesus' style
                 to reconcile

Happy days
                  God's ways

peace be 
             with thee   amen





                            






Details | Free verse | |

Old Ironsides

Only silence dresses her rigging now
To the call of the bosun’s whistle
Her hatches now stand locked and secure
Where long past sailors once lingered
She is the last of the old frigates
Moored in the shallows of Charlestown
Board her and hear her echoes of valor
Haughtily anchored her colors humbly fly
No blemishes on her hull show her battles
Her carronades still sit silently waiting
As she floats mythically at ease
For a moment I can hear the great moans
Her keel and sailors cresting Atlantic waves
To Captain Hulls orders to come about
And charge on the enemy ship Guerriere
On her decks I feel the plight of her dead
Hearing stories of centuries old bulkheads
Astounding feats of a morose pride
To have brought their foe to capitulate
Now she stands tacit though ever grand
And still on her decks and deep in the bowels
The mighty spirit of U.S.S. Constitution dwells  
A monument of endurance softly whispering
“Lest we remember long forgotten sacrifices…”


Details | Free verse | |

The letter

The Letter

DEAR Marlene,

Sweet heart of the dead
Adored by generations not yet born
Marlene we love you.

Your beauty burned the wings of JFK
And brought big John to his knees.
For your love, was meant for more.
You shocked the World with a velvet kiss
An elegant truth in a sea of Fools.

It took one voice to start a War,
One bullet to unite false prophets
One woman to speak out.
You ostracized the Nazis for what they were.
Stood tall, through treason
Did not follow, Hitler’s Spell
Chose to Love America s freedom instead.

When Reapers scythe came
Song and Compassion was your shield.
It Gave comfort to the damned as shell and mortar pound
Your words a respite, from the fear
And your beauty, a reminder.
That love awaits the Soldiers return.
Back to the German farms and the English meadows
For love knows nothing of war.

You witnessed holy sacrilege,
Saw blind disciples fuel the reapers fire
Both sides, in the name of god,
Oh how heaven must have wept

Marlene you dared to question religion,
For Your soul could see through the flames,
While others perished in mortals Pride.
You Asked god to review his plan.
Only you, Marlene could do that

Where have all the flowers gone
Your message to Humanity,
But the Heinkel and the Spitfire
Flew too high to hear
And the flowers of youth
All Eaten by silent sheep, and taken to yet another slaughter.

Yet be proud Marlene
For Your echo awakened a new generation to peace,
Although lasting peace is like true love, so hard to find,
But never the less, a goal we devote our lives to.
Some countries have found their Peace
While other search.
Humanity is still a child in these matters,
And war still goes on 
When will they ever, learn, when will they, ever learn.

Try to forgive us,
Perhaps the man upstairs,
Really does have another plan, Marlene Dietrich, 
At least I’m sure that Eternity
Will be a far more beautiful and interesting place
With you in it,
and I look forward to meeting you.

Love Steven 
xxxx

Footnote to this poem
JFK relates to her affair with President Kennedy
Big john relates to her affair with John Wayne
The Velvet kiss was the first lesbian kiss on main stream cinema 1930
Marlene was bisexual.
The line where have all the flowers gone and when will they ever learn comes from the song forever associated with Marlene Dietrich.

Brief Biography
Born 1901 in Germany
First film in 1920
Became American Citizen 1937
Awarded Medal of Freedom USA 1947
Awarded Legion of Honor by France
Died 1992 in Paris.


Details | Rhyme | |

Saxon

Isaac's son
saac's son
Saxon
O Israel where are you
I know you are not a Jew
Joseph come home
come home O child come home

I spy David's thrown
we'll have to make preparations
to bring it back to Jerusalem
so that when our savior comes home
he will have a proper place to sit
there upon his fathers thrown

for sins the Lord with held the blessings
over twenty five hundred years
and then we suddenly received them
swiftly they fade away
think we will ever learn our lesson
think we'll ever straighten our ways

"Be sure to observe my Sabbaths
keep the sanctified day
do not go around worshiping idols"
now blessings are fading away
does anybody else know
what does the word of God say

soon the skies will be iron
and the land will turn to brass
plagues shall scald our people
and our cities will break like glass
that fell down from the heavens
shattered and scattered all to pieces
we should have obeyed the laws of our father
like we were told to by the great king Jesus

O Ephraim, O Manasseh
I pray we learn our lesson fast
so that the pain doesn't have to last
we will all soon be slaves
God's will and try to be brave
still I pray
my God have mercy
and I pray to see the day
when we all learn to live
within God's laws and learn his ways

O America, O Britain
nation overseas and mine
don't you know God is going to punish us
time after time after time
until we learn the way to happiness
and inherit eternal life
we will walk by the river of life that flows
I guess we’ll have to learn the hard way
I guess that's just how it goes
they don't believe God and they wont believe me
I guess that soon enough
everybody in the world will know
everybody in the world will see
(Jer: 50:4-6)
In those days, and in that time, saith the LORD,
the children of Israel shall come, they and the children of Judah together,
going and weeping: they shall go, and seek the LORD their God.
They shall ask the way to Zion with their faces thitherward, saying, Come,
and let us join ourselves to the LORD in a perpetual covenant that shall not be 
forgotten. 
My people hath been lost sheep: their shepherds have caused them to go astray,
they have turned them away on the mountains:
they have gone from mountain to hill,
they have forgotten their resting place.


Details | Concrete | |

The Scottish Thistle

I am the Scot's thistle The emblem of my proud country it has been our valiant pride for so many years \\!!!!!// \\\!!!!!/// \\\\!!!!!!!//// ====!!!!!!!==== ////!!!!!!!\\\\ ///!!!!!\\\ //!!!!!\\ !!! \!!!/ \!!!/ --!!!-- \!!!/ \!!!/ --!!!-- \!!!/ \!!!/ --!!!-- """""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""" The thistle has been the national emblem of Scotland since the reign of Alexander III (1249 - 1286) and was used on silver coins issued by James III in 1470. According to the legend, an invading Norse army was attempting to sneak up at night upon a Scots army encampment. During this operation one barefoot Norseman had the misfortune to step upon a Scots Thistle, causing him to cry out in pain, thus alerting Scots to the presence of the Norse invaders. My entry into Deborah Guzzi's " Oh, what a Shape I'm in! " contest. Not easy doing the above, i nearly went cross eyed.


Details | Free verse | |

GETTYSBURG

Walk does he not the specter of death, 
His saith raised high, even he himself has had
Enough killing, on the battlefield of Gettysburg,
Satan screams, stop sons of men, truly war
Is hell on earth.
Time's spiritual voices cry out, as the wind
Blows through the tall over grow grasses,
Of this Pennsylvanian State park.
Injured spirits, roam as phantom soldiers,
Seeking salvation's reprieves preservation, 
From their damnation.
On the Devil's Den reddened rock, centuries
Still stand guard, knelling sharp shooters,
Fire at will, as the drummers beat, at rhythm’s
Death march.
Gun powers burnt smell fills the air, 
As the loud canons echo in the distance,
Mayhem's discord has left destruction's
Bloodshed, these numbers estimation 
Of flesh and bone, are guessed yet it's
Resolution unknown.
Blown are the horns of Calvary’s call,
Reinforcement’s sacred hesitating for aid,
But none come to it's deadening's sounding.
Mourn do the orphan's of war, in their fathers
Name, so they do weep in sorrow remembrance.
A war-ravaged companion, lead by freedom
Seekers, the end to release bondage’s salves,
Stain our great country with it's own blood.
Brother against brother, two flags of belief 
Striking each other, north vs the south,
Behold it was the American Civil War.
A revolutionary uprising of idealism,
That all man have the right to be free,
And live without the chains of oppression.
It is in this haunted place, at cemetery ridge,
That the final battle lines are marked in 
Bloods deadliest charge ahead.
Many souls still serve here, never shall
They know the light of peace.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN


Details | Free verse | |

QUEEN OF THE DESERT

All bow low unto Pharaoh,
Queen of all upper, and lower Egypt.
Hollowed halls echo thy name,
 Nefertiti.
Cast red sails towards infinity's,
 Swift currents.
 Nile waters part steadily 
Anubis guardian of the dead,
 Receive thus living deity.
Let sacred alters burn bright, 
Light sacrifices ashen embers, 
In thine honers reverence.
Beneath desertions desert ruins,
 Lies etched upon mortar's stone.
A royal tomb bearing her,
 Majesties,
 Unspoken name, Nefertiti.
 Golden saddles press against,
 Mortals realm,
Behold a phantom goddess,
 Brushed ageless,
By times untarnished memory,
The pasted reveals truths,
 Magnificence.
Through redemption's flame,
Two scepters crisis cross,
 Within beauty's touch.
An ancient throne has,
 Been reclaimed. 
Raise great sphinx, from
 Your sacred resting place,
Shake free fetters sandy mane,
 Breath once again,
 His might’s roar harold’s,
 Her return.
Soft winds blow against,
 Freedoms breeze,
Exposing a glittering figure,
 Standing tall,
Beside the great monolith.
All bow low unto Pharaoh,
Queen of all upper, and lower
 Egypt.
Hollowed halls echo thy name.
 Nefertiti.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN


Details | Iambic Pentameter | |

Hiraeth of a Modern Celt

Upon the green hills of Cymru
I stand arrested by the veiw
of cryptic sea and ancient shore 
that stood ten thousand years before
they met my callow eye
and will remain for many more
long after I die


I'm solemn above the briny stew
with thoughts of kin I never knew
fishing the sea, mining the coal
or mining the depths of a poet's soul
A nation's buried history
revived once more because it knows
the blood that flows through me

Blood that fed this fertile soil
with the Celtic tears and toil
of Warriors dead b'neath the peat
that pads the soles of anglish feet
the true Princes of Wales
rule no more upon this shore
except in children's tales

The epic song of Arthur's quest
or Madoc's journey somewhere west
stories of the Mabinogion 
or family tales of distant kin
who fought so hard, but failed
to keep their ancient birthright
so to distant lands they sailed

Centuries pass, now here I stand
a stranger in this native land
welcomed by the foe of yore
that chased my people from this shore
leaving me a world apart
from the Cymru pulsing through my blood
and beating in my heart