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Adventure Narrative Poems | Narrative Poems About Adventure

These Adventure Narrative poems are examples of Narrative poems about Adventure. These are the best examples of Adventure Narrative poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

Details | Narrative | |

Pride of the Motherland

Riding an elephant
Down the narrow trail looking triumphant
Scanning the golden landscape
Like Hannibal with enemies in flight
Sight from a lofty height
King of the jungle moving
With lioness by his side

Climbing Mount Kilimanjaro
Guides by my side with packs on their backs
Some paths steep with rocks
Boots slipping below our tired feet
Beautiful birds in unison flight
Moving with terrestrial light
Stunning sunlight summit on the peak

Praying in an Ethiopian Church
Preserved in rocks built by humans’ hands 
Never touched by conquest plans
Protected from the invaders’ footsteps
Queen of Sheba and Solomon’s nest
Touched by Arch of the Covenant
Mary, Joseph, and Jesus once slept

Eating yam, sipping palm wine, and tasting milk
Freshly squeezed by experienced hands
Taste of life in the mosaic grassland
Sustaining and soul refreshing
Cradle of humankind adorning
Invaded for its gold, riches, and human capacity
Birth of life on earth with tenacity

Respecting its living and arduous journey
Essence of life once was and is again to come
Riding a camel across the hot Sahara sand
Once wet now dried, exported gold from Mali…
Treasures from the hearts of once African empires
That which was, is, and shall forever be
Africa the birthing Motherland
We still love and respect thee!

~~~~~~~*******~~~~~~~

Seventh Place Winner
"African's Pride" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Adeleke Adeite
June 30, 2010

~~~~~~~*******~~~~~~~


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Granny Panty Annie, the Tranny

Lemme tell ya' about a
*ding-bat skit-zo 
bee-hotch* tranny
named Annie...

I met her one night 
under disco lights 
up at Candies

She was 
starin' at me
grittin' her teeth
aimin' ta' see 
if I wanted a piece
of he 
OR
of she 
by way of flashin' granny panties

She was
shootin' pool
actin' a fool
so I 
took a shot
and one tiny glance 
but got caught

So I
lit up a smoke
and tried to play it off cool
but it was too late
she had pulled up a stool

She slurred,
"Hey young felluh, where ya' been all my life!"

I replied, 
"Sorry to burst yir' bubble, but I got a wife!"

"That don't matter kid, what she don't know won't hurt the girl" 
as she fisted my collar and yelled, "I'LL ROCK YIR' WORLD! Annie the Tranny is what they call me. Bet you been wanted ta' bone me since you first saw me!"

Fear and frustration danced on my face
I begged the bouncer to 
"Get this he/she outta the place!"

My pleas were to no avail, 
and that sea donkey lurked hot on my trail
flailin' it's arms and grindin' bar stools with it's tail

Speakin' of tails...
a shiny blue wale tail crept up her back
Her jeans were mean, but couldn't hold her underwear's elastic slack
but at least it beat feastin' eyes upon her crack
then she... 
wrapped her grimy hands around my neck and asked, 
"You n' me, boy, what the heck!?!"

I screamed,
"Look here lady, you seem real nice for a tranny;
but...
ya' see...
ya' need 
to hit the bricks,
you
and yir' Granny Panties!"

At that point the joint started to really heat up
people were glarin' like they really wanted me beat up
I can't recall how the hell I got out of there 
alive and free
it was like a big manly freight train
headin' dead at me

I'm pretty sure I owe the good Lord a big favor
that beast was the devil
and Jesus was my Savior!

It's a night I thought would never end... 
the night at Candies Bar n' Grill
Granny Panty Annie got a thrill 
tryin' to make me her sexy friend!!!




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Tea Leaves On The Bosphorus

Tea Leaves On The Bosphorus

Seated at a table by the stirring water,
My eyes absorb the shore of Asia.
Minerets and aged worn stone
Stand haphazardly along the banks.
Istanbul is a lady with secrets
She'll lure you with her unrevealed virgin beauty,
Then seduce you with her ancient lovers.

Grilled sardines filled my charger
Fish pulled from the strait just minutes before,
Lay garnished with parsley and mint .
Red pickled turnips and warm flat bread
Are the implements that help feed me 
And scoop up the humus,
Turkish nourishment for my soul.

The empty plates are cleared by a handsome waiter
With dubious intentions I feared,
But I was flattered none the less.
A bowl of yogurt was placed before me,
And my admirer arrived with a comb of honey.
He held it high above the creamy cloud and let the heavy ochre
languidly pour atop the milky whiteness of delight.
After his seduction,he left me alone to my pleasure
As I lapped at the sweet and sour heavenly temptation,
that parted my lips and elevated my being.

As I recovered from my rapture, two eyes caught mine.
The heathen that destroyed my diet approached the table uninvited.
He pulled up a chair and sat down across from me.
In his hands, a cup.
He offered to tell me my future.
White, small, as fragile as an eggshell with the top lopped off.
Within was a dark tea with floating leaves.
In a chivalrous attempt at English conversation,
He handed me the libation and the offer to read the remains.

I, alone in a man's world, unmarried, and of a certain age,
Did not need encouragement and I accepted his offer.
I drained the tea in one gulp and returned it to his hands.
He placed the cup in one palm , then turned it upside down,
Allowing the remaining fluid to drip out around the cup and onto the table.
Once the cup was upright again he studied the leaves, then he spoke.

His voice was soft, at times , unintelligible
His reading was honest, and truthful, and painful.
His prophecy, amusing, and entertaining
His vision and it's accuracy were astounding.

Fifteen years later, the leaves delivered on their promise.
Long fluid lines inside the cup foretold of a marriage,
To a man who  would cross a sea to find me.
Two shorter drippings were the children that now delight me.
The  tea ring that he was able to complete around the cup ,
Was the warmth of a love that would soon envelop me.


Tea, anyone?





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New Road

In a new road,
Rain will fall,
Wind may blow,
Swifting our woe.

The road forever on and on,
Many paths to choose,
Many paths to take,
Home behind,
World ahead...

Through the shadows,
Through the night,
Clouds going by,
There we will lie,
Very deep,
Seeing shivered land,
Seeing the dead seas...

Through the edge,
Miles to go,
Singing by,
Darkness rising,
Vanishing light,
Hollow flourishing,
Going by,
World ahead,
Home behind...

Rain may fall,
Through the nightfall,
Through the twilight,
Through the dusk,
Through the dawn,
Beyond mountains,
Beyond stones,
Standing strong,
Wandering lost,
World ahead,
Home behing,
Paths on and on,
'Till the road comes along...


Details | Narrative | |

The Devil's Tide

I looked up at a silver moon 
Peering through a cloud of misty gloom 
As we sailed across the Atlantic Sea 
That fateful night in June 
 
And as I stood upon the bow 
A furrow crossed my troubled brow 
When I saw a dying star fall from the sky 
As the wind out of the north 
Began to cry 
 
'Twas then with fearful heart 
I came at last to realize 
That we were sailing 
On a wave of ill-tidings 
Known as 'The Devil's Tide' 
 
For no omen of the sea 
Brought more fear than thee 
A fallen star -  a silver moon 
Together in the month of June 
If legend true would surely bring us doom 
 
So with no trace of land in sight 
We sailed onward through the night
I -  the Captain 'Louie Lou' 
With my faithful crew 
Aboard the 3 mast schooner 'Angel - of the Blue' 
On canvas wings we flew 
Upon the wailing wind that blew 
 
Then suddenly a hush of malaise 
Crushed the summer night
Filling all the crew with dreadful fright 
As all the stars in heaven lost their light 
And the silver moon dipped completely out of sight 
Leaving us to drift without guidance 
To our unknown plight 
 
An eerie sound began to roll out of the west 
Growing louder and louder as we held our breath 
Until it was upon us and the ship began rise 
As we looked in horror into the Devil's eye 
As the Angel of the Blue began to fly 
Up the Devil's breast she climbed 20 fathoms high 
 
One by one the Angel's wings were torn away 
As she fought to save us from the Devil's rage 
Screams of horror falling from her timber sides 
As the crew fell into the Devil's tide 
 
And I -  tethered to the helm -  watched them die 
As we climbed even higher into the Devil's eye 
And as the Angel's body creaked and cracked
We finally scaled the crest and rode upon the Devil's back
Just before I fainted and my world went black 
 
I woke up in the morning high on a mountain side 
Never knowing just how I had survived 
knowing only that my Angel and my crew had died 
 
~~~ 
 
Many years have come and gone since then 
And I am forever haunted by each and every one of them 
My faithful crew and my mighty 'Angel of the Blue' 
 
I see their faces in my dreams 
As I awaken to their screams 
Wishing, too -  that I had died 
But someone had to live 
To tell the tale of the 'Devil's Tide'.

~~~~~~~~

Author:  Elaine George
Entry for contest:  Legends
Awarded:  First Place





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The road to a Championship

    Early one morning a group of rookie's and veteran's ballplayers emerge onto the prac-
tice field destine to began an grueling season of hardwork and a dedication to an common-
goal of Superiority.  They come out of the locker room after the coach has given assign-
ment's and now everyone minds are on one accord, one agenda and together they all say to
themselve's. "The road to a Championship began when the priority to be the best", "is know
from one and all roads to success is gear towards teamwork and passionate loyalty to suc-
ceed at any means there is".  Loyalty to push on through the inclimate weather, hardwork off
the field as well on the field is approachable only when a championship atmosphere surrounds
itself with ballplayer's and not attitude's disrespectful to the cause of the challenge's to be-
come the best at what you do, and do the best at what not to do.  Teamwork is a do-able part
of the puzzle, but there's more to it then that.  There is hunger, and then all the pieces falls
together when that hunger is fed an astronomical desire that fill-up the body and your minds
with offensive and defensive individual's that love's victory and enjoy's a desire to not finish
the race in last place.  So out emerge's a champion in his relationship to his fellow ballplayers
and to his family as that of maturity and that of unlimited resources of the uncoachable en-
tangable fortitude that seperate the advantage's over the disadvantages that make his or her
teammate's reach the level of sportsmenship unseen and redeem as the fans come to see a
player that value's himself and value the diffucult task of Sunday to Sunday ability to be not
only a scholar athelete but also The road of a Champion is what make's him love to compete:



Details | Narrative | |

Fear of Flying

I wonder if my false smile fools anyone at all?
Perhaps I am pulling it off!
Do I look like someone who does this every day?
Do I seem self assured and confident?
No one seems to pay me notice...
Good

I purposely chose an aisle seat
Yes....I'm ashamed to admit it...
I'm one of those you hear about,!...Go ahead...laugh if you like...
Yes, hate to tell you, but I'm cursed with a fear of flying!

Oh I know....you'll tell me all that nonsense about aeronautics
How it's safer than driving the freeways...yeah...right...
Sorry....I can't hear you....my heart is pounding too loudly
My head is throbbing...my hands are shaky, my knees are trembling...

Ahhh.... a deep breath, ...ahh...another....wheww....
Oh-oh!! OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH this is it!!!!!
Ohhhh...ohhh....oooooo ....here we go!!!......

I'll just look at the floor, ...
O.K.  O.K. come on..!! ....Try to think of pleasant thoughts!
Ummmm...green grass, ....uhh, butterflies,.. flowers,  ...dirt,...wonderful wonderful dirt! ...
HEAVENLY MOTHER EARTH!!!! 

What are those for?? Oh yes, I remember,...the small lights beneath our feet
Leading us (HOPEFULLY!!)...( just in case...you know...)
Oh, God...for escaping in the dark!! ....IF escape were necessary (or even possible!!) 
Oh Lord!
Little lights that lead ...to..to...where is it??? Oh, there....the exit!!
That's the nearest exit...(must remember....closest one I count is five rows ahead)....
Hmm...better count again....five rows...
Count them again...yes...one, two, three, four, five...

Do NOT listen to the deafening noise of the engines...
What was that??!!  I said... "DON'T LISTEN!!"....

Deep breath.....ahhh

The couple next to me
So animated in their conversation
They seem deeply enthralled by the landscape below them
Just sitting there...joking, and enjoying and pointing.....
Hmm..just a peek....WOW!...Look at that world...it's shrinking in size so rapidly!
Deep breath....
Hmm....well now, ....this isn't so hard...
Actually, well, maybe just another quick look....hmmm.....

If I crane my neck a bit....wow...I can see the ocean in the distance
I can see the patchwork of man's mark on the earth
Wow!  Wow !! ...would ya look at that???!
Wow, beautiful !!  ....   Gotta get a window seat for the flight home !!!...
Wow!.....Amazing..........!  That view.....................incredible!!!!

What's that....?? "Oh...yes..a coke would be nice..thank you!"

Hey...this isn't so bad....  Wow....look!! I can see the curvature of the earth....Wow!!!
Hey.....this is AWESOME!!!!


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Everyone Has A Story

The clouds are now fading,
as the rainbow of life breaks through,
once my tears fell heavy,
but now only a trace of misty blue.

Sometimes we have no reason,
answers can't be found,
but we still stand on our Faith,
praying for stable ground.

Many pathways are given,
that's where common sense can't be blind,
for what we choose today,
can push us forward, or leave us behind.

Years are a blessing,
if we learn from where we've been,
but if we never humble our self,
the clouds will come again.

Everyone has a story,
our journey of tears, and smiles,
we are the keepers of the memories,
and all those lifetime miles.


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King and Queen for a Day

We bound down the stairs, out into the light-of-day, and into the blue of the
misty breezes, heavily laden with the smell of wild sea salt roses that grow in 
perfusion along the winding road, that bends and turns in gentle lifts and dips to 
the other side of the bay, where it crosses the bridge and rises up and winds 
away, over the hill.

Overhead the seagulls screech and glide over the ocean spray that washes on 
the rocks on the lower banks behind our house along the Fundy Bay, where we 
run like the wind through the fields of fresh cut hay and make our  way to the 
rocky mantle below .

There in the volcanic plateau, worn smooth as glass by the constant rolling 
weight of the ocean, is our pool, known by all in our village, as ‘Lizza’s Bathtub’, 
created by the eruption of the earth’s inner core, millennia’s ago.  

We slip into the still, salty water that has been warmed beneath the blazing sun, 
and float with the perry winkles and tiny crabs and  listen to the sound of the 
ocean, that roars beneath us as it leaves in the receding tide, while we drift 
away, in our minds, my little brother the ‘King’ and I, the ‘Queen’ for a day on 
the ‘Fundy Bay’.



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Beyond the sign

Hello friend, Do you see that man on the corner by the street?
He is holding the cardboard saying "homeless and I need to eat." 
If you're not too busy, come with me on a journey back to 1969.
It will help you to look past his appearence and beyond his homemade sign.

This is the 1960's, where they thrived on the American Dream.
The women were real ladies, or at least in public thats what it seems.
Today is High School graduation, So much happiness is in the air,
But, These young men have recieved papers, and Uncle Sam expects them there.

Do you recognize the bone structure of this boy standing on our right?
He is the one from the future corner, he was Valedictorian tonight.
So well dressed, and raised up right, his sweetheart by his side.
He has no reason to be fearful of the draft, he is filled with American Pride.

Fast foward, Just a few weeks, to him and his young new wife,
Kissing so passionately, pressing pause on their future, and their life.
He is dropped down in the jungle, amist the sounds of live fire.
He sees injured men being lifted out, as the SGT's on the wire.

Just a young boy of 19, he is scared beyond his witts,
Yet, he completes every mission he is given, he never quits.
He holds the hands of friends, who was cut down in their prime.
Yes, this is the same man, the one you wouldn't give a dime.

He arrives back home, in the year of 1972.
His tour earned him a purple heart, he took bullets for you.
once at home, he is expecting affection from his lover,
but, he has been gone for so long she already found another.

So at 21 years old, this veteran is now a man,
He drinks his memories away, everynight if he can.
He gave an eye, and two of the best friends he has ever known.
He never was told "thank you", and he has nothing to call his own.

If you pay close attention to the newspapers of '72
you will see in the protest, they blamed the drafted soilders too.
so here is this man, young, and broken, yet, still not ashamed.
He proudly answered the call, when the draft listed his name.

Only a fellow Veteran, could even try to understand,
That there are no surviving Vets, a part of them died in Vietnam.
When they returned they expected welcome parties and smiles.
Instead they were placed in a new war, but, it was their uniform on trial.

If you still feel the same as you did before our walk.
Go on about your day, forget about our talk.
But, if you have decided, you can look beyond his sign.
Maybe understand his pain, and give our hero a dime.


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Passing On of Little Bee, Ojibway, Thunder Bay

Little Bee, Deaamoo, grandmother of the Crane Clan, lies staring. The light of 
winter’s first full moon falls into the room. Through a ghostly haze of tobacco and 
sage smoke, she sees her loved ones. One withered hand clasps a cowrie shell, 
mee-ghis, tightly to her heart and in the other she holds a small dreamcatcher for 
her youngest granddaughter Little Aamoo. Strands of gray white hair escape from 
her braids which trail down beside her bird-frail form touching the fringe of her 
parting dress. Her clan has been in the sweat lodge praying for her safe journey 
home, some appear red-cheeked; others are a pale as the shades of her 
ancestors.  It is the end of her days, a time for passing on.

Outside of the house near the fringe of balsam pine a circle of stones are laid, each 
one blessed and bringing an anchoring comfort to man, lodged between earth, and 
sky. The four directions are marked and her way west is clear for her. Soon, she will 
ask loved ones to lay here amongst the gifts laid for Pacugu, The Great horned Owl, 
near the spirit house.

The veil is thin now between this world and the next. The smoke branches upward, 
showing the way to sky world where Gichi Manidoo waits. The songs are being sung 
for her now. The Shaman’s rattle is crisp and clear. All about her is beauty. Drums 
keep the beat of her heart. They wait. Remembering one last story, she calls her 
family to her, she must leave them with all the knowledge she has. "Ah, what was 
that story? Well, that is not for you." 





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Tickle Trout

In the cool of the evening he laid there basking 
as my fingers touched the gleaming surface of the pool.
Deeper i penetrated till my hand was beneath him,
slowly my fingers engaged his slithery belly,
then gently with a slight single movement
to and thro, then up and down 
his whole body fully relaxed as he rolled a little
to accommodate me.
As he laid there his eye and my eyes connected
each of us wondering no doubt what the next move would be,
while carefully not to let my nose which was just above the surface
play any part in this my devious quest.
Suddenly a water skater bug came floating by
and decided to explore my nostril,
at this point making me sneeze, the force of the blast
sending the bug careering on to the surface.
In a flash swallowed by my impending supper
who then scurried away to the safety
 of the rocky bed of the creek,
to become King Trout for another day.


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VISITING OUR LAND DOWNUNDER

written 28th June 2013


The place downunder, I'm happy to call my home
 if you plan on a visit, here's somethings you do "need" to know

Kakadu is a place 'you' need to take the time to see
 such magic you will never won't to leave

But...if your arms "outside" the boat...
It...WILL end up down, a crocodiles throat

 Ayres rock...is a must place to have on your list, simply this you can not miss
As the sun descends watch it's colours change, you'll be mesmerised by 'pure' bliss

Coober Pedy...for those slightly intrigued with the underground
 for it is here, a quiet town where all there house's are found

Ballarat...you can still find gold
Well... so I've been told

I recommend...."you" don't swim in the oceans at the top end..
 surrounded by oceans.... the rest, feel free to  jump in

"BUT" if you happen to see a 'fin' I highly 'recommend' you swim

With nights call..'when' offered pull up a chair, grab a beer and relax
 there's just....'one small' catch 

Don't ever be the 'first' to fall "asleep"
 Aussie's find 'extensive' pleasure in an innocent prank when asleep

Enjoy your stay....and from the Land downunder we 'all' say "G'day"
 and look forward to seeing you again, we know you had a great stay


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The Wedding

Wedding Night in Raqqa

 

 

Cyclonic violet vision

 

Etheral and immortal

 

She swirls her sand baked torso.

 

Evoking the initial collision of primordial seed,

 

Swathed in gossamer purple veils,

 

Writhing to the stomping and clapping

 

Of jeweled ankles

 

And henna stained hands.

 

The tribes have united for my wedding to their son.

 

I ,foreign and naive, swoon to the power

 

Of ancient rhythm and verse,

 

Ripe, fertile gestures,

 

Pregnant with  throbbing pulses

 

And scattered beats of flailing arms,

 

Bleating tongues, spinning robes.

 

A cacophony of incessant chant rose from the dancing women,

 

Growning louder, feverish in their pleasure

 

And the nearness of release.

 

I join in the dancing.

 

They swath me in voiles and lead me to the center

 

I dance, and I succumb to my wedding night in Raqqa.



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Coming of Age

My eldest brother, nine years old,
Thought he could break a horse.
Our mother strictly forbade him.
A mother’s right of course.
Her young son mustered all his wiles,
Hoping he could sway her.
Unwilling to be defeated,
He vowed to disobey her.

He gathered a rope and bridle,
Went to the big corral.
He was there to break a wild colt,
Three brothers there to yell.
Our youngest brother, four years old
Yelled, “I’ll tell Ma on you
Unless you take me up there
And give me a ride too.”

In his eagerness to hush him,
His big brother agreed
And lifted him to the bare back
Of that big, trembling steed.
Our father came in nick of time
To salvage little brother,
Then watched as his son rode that colt.
No one told our mother.


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Other Side of The Rainbow

It was on the other side of the rainbow
When I slid into a dream
I guess at that time nothing was, as it truly seemed
People came and people went
The needle played my blues
Through the rainbow dreams into leprechaun schemes
I was Papa Smurf with the magic brew
I built a Crystal Castle
On the shores of nevermore
I guess sometimes I wonder, “What was I searching for”
Beauty danced with big brown eyes
Though the faces always changed
Many times I slept with gals I thought were rather strange
Magic slides that no one hides
I wonder where they go?
I once slid down the rainbow just to see the show
The stars are bright it’s a beautiful night
Moonbeams illuminating mushrooms all around
Here by my house crickets and frogs are the only sound
Fairies dance like fireflies 
It’s really quite the sight
Ever tripped down Hollywood and Vine on a Friday night
I have lived through many dreams
Shared many angels souls
Shattered dreams and broken schemes, nothing but empty goals
Broken hearts torn apart
Blowing in the wind
Like fairy dust you just can’t trust
Not even your closest friend
I dove into a crystal pool on the other side of the hill
I swear sometimes in my ears I can hear the ringing still
I rode upon the tornado just to go spinning through the sound
Landed in a concrete room bouncing all around
Leprechauns and rainbows
Unicorn’s beautiful and white
When I finally kicked the horse
It wasn’t a pretty sight
Like a frog on the log or a sick old dawg
Just a skeleton in a box
With the strength of Arthur's sword and trust in the Lord
I shattered a thousand locks
Now I’m back on this side of the rainbow
And every thing’s looking bright
My Guinevere is here and I love her dear
She is such a lovely sight
Trials come like waterfalls
Flooding though our life
I truly am a lucky man to face them with my wife
Well let’s gig the frog and fire up the log
We’ll roast us a pig tonight
Life is good in my neighborhood
Nary a single vice
The other side of the rainbow now seems so very far away
I guess that is really about all I have to say


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Summer Scent

Summer scent is the smell of freedom
where we can escape the flavor of boredom
so we plan to have our vacation on the beach
where we can relax and fresh air is within our reach

The warm wind tenderly embraced my spirit
I felt excited on this first visit
on an island where refugees can find paradise
an island where spending time is wise

The dulcet breeze gently kisses lush green trees
and the mirthful sun smiles over the vast seas 
Where surfers play with gigantic waves
and are not certain on what road it paves

The fluffy clouds are smoothly sailing 
the birds are singing and harmoniously dancing
There are butterflies that are colorful in hue
like enchanted fairies changing colors from pink to blue

I need my sun block, it's time for swimming
the tables are full because later we're all eating
Ladies are smiling to many cool surfer dudes
Children are hungry seeing delicious exotic foods

I picked a shell that whispered peacefully in my ears
and we built castles that we fancied over the years
out of the small grains of white sands
and all you need is helping hands

God was really great in creating splendid wonders
that were loved by all especially the nature lovers
There are numerous oceans that are aquamarine
and abundant trees and grasses that are green

The brother sun was slowly hiding
because the sister moon was coming
I guess it was our time to pack
but there will come a time for us to go back

Go back to a place of leisure and freedom
where you'll not taste the flavor of boredom
It would be hard for us to say goodbye
because truly we will come back and say Hi!


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Embattled

They burst forth and charge downwards
Matching uniforms shiny against the grey sky
Their only desire to smash suicidally upon our ranks
We hear the thunder of them coming, and carefully prepare
The vanguard already lie smashed upon the ground
The rest will soon swell the regiments of the defeated
Moments before they arrive we deploy our umbrellas
Countless warriors smash harmlessly inches above our heads
Their watery remains dripping from our defences
Mingling with those of their already fallen brethren







Contest : FALL YOUR CHOICE any theme/any form max 12 lines
Honorable Mention


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The Choice of Bonny Aileas

Through shadowed forest glade she rode
'Midst grey and gloomy chill
No single thought of safety did
A moment stay her will

The mist clung to her nostrils as
She charged into the brush
The creatures of the forest paused
In terrifying hush

Foreboding seeped into her bones
Ghastly, from ages spent
Urging her mount to breakneck speed
Resolve would not relent

To slow would mean downfall into
A consequence of dread
She knew if she but lost an inch
He lover would be dead

This morn she was awakened by 
His servant at her door
And with his last breath utterance
Fell bloodied to the floor

It seems a tartan wearing clan
Appeared in red and green
‘Tis true that a more fearful sight
Is rarely ever seen

Unwittingly, they’d crossed the line
Into the Fraser realm
It was then they were set upon
In stand of noble elm

So, now she raced to intercede
Upon her love’s behalf
To beg for mercy from the chief;
That he withhold his wrath

The secret she had hidden would
Surely offset slaughter
It was true she had been born the
Fraser Chieftain’s daughter

She’d fled her home ten years before
With  young Lord Cameron
The rival clan’s incumbent heir
Her lover and champion

She’d not been sorry up to now
For following her heart
She knew the toll her love would take
Right from the very start

But this would be a sacrifice 
She'd never wished to make
That for his life she would exchange
Hers for the clan to take



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Call Me Gonzo

For thoose of you who may not know.
Just call me gonzo I write the absurd for life is insane and sometimes 
it takes a madman to speak the truth so very clear.

I write for the broken vacant faces that have lost all hope.
To the dreamer who's well is slowley running dry from everyone
telling him to stop wasting his time.

I write like a endless highway fueled by whiskey and wild women 
every adventure leads to pain but life is pain and i love in spite of it.

I thirst for every unseen mile the desert my brother it's people dwell
in the spirt of the west the opium parlors and brothels spirt still linger.
I write with a hint of danger and a promise of disaster.

Im a blues player whos trying to out run the devil.
Im a outlaw riding to cross the border a woman looking to the 
empty range for my return.

I write because I breath in a world were the creative air has gone 
stale.
The bottle sits apon table and I welcome any strangers company
I just rather that stranger be a warm woman instead of a 
unfriendly amigo who is a little jelouse.

Write to be more than just part of the highways landscape.
Some may call me crude crazy insane some even vulgar and 
liar and thief.
But aside from thoose compliments.
No matter what you may call me.
Dont ever forget to just call me gonzo.


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Soul of an Eagle Life of a Penguin

Soaring in my mind above the blue skies.
Warmth penetrating across my brow.
Diving to feel a cool breeze and soaring again
On strong wings. Time is no importance while on top today.

I look across the vast sea and know I can swim fast and free.
I float, dart and flipper my way to this destination. 
Mostly content though when I gaze upward...
Fleeting thoughts of discontentment come as flashes of light.
My dream...to soar as an eagle, majestic, across the sky.


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Structured AS An Erotic Narrative

When you walked into your room
my heart was beating like a jack rabbit.
You looked at me with those provocative eyes of yours.
Then you told me “take off your blouse”
I thought I’d die. I watched your perfect lips;
how your soft pink tongue curls when you speak.

Slowly, I unbuttoned your top, even though you seemed rushed
I thought I would tease you and did it slower than time.
You said remove my skirt and I swear
my heart was in my throat.
I was staring at your legs and their perfect curves
admiring how thin your waist was. I removed your skirt.

I’m not sure how much time passed before you suggested
I remove your bra but my hands were shaking as I attempted it. 
You followed with a deep vibrating voice
as you asked me to take off your nylon stockings
and you know how that turns me on
what it does to me to touch nylon.

Once that was done as if I needed further instructions
you whispered remove my panties at that point
that you said those words I will never forget.
Even now my body goes catatonic just thinking about it.

It was then you said…

At that point…

It was at that moment…

Yes, I still remember the words exactly.

It was then you said


“and don’t ever let me catch you wearing my clothes again”


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A Long Cold-Chill

I watched the penguins woddle along,
On cold-hard ice; where they belong.

From water to land, they scurried around,
Flapping their feet on frozen ground.

Herds of them were standing still,
Settling down to a long cold chill.

Mother passes her egg to father carefully;
Knowing he'll care for it, so, naturally.

He'll protect it from the harsh-cold nights,
In a warm snug pouch away from sight.

For mother must find many fish to catch,
While father stays until it is hatched.

Long-dark days of Winter will change to Fall,
Returning mother, with, her familiar call.

Such a sweet sound for father's ear,
Ending another, long-cold Winter year.

Giving father penguin a much needed break,
For their chick is born and fully awake.

With such a huge urge to quickly eat,
Yes, many tasty meals of fresh, fish-meat.


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the crucible savant

The crucible savant..    by Steven Hudson
(Crucible: A place or situation in which concentrated forces interact to cause or influence  change or development.
  Savant:  a person of learning…)

Through sleepless, hopeless nights
With liquor on breath and dull head
Alone and cold in lay,
We made our passage to manhood,
Many days in suffer and want
Through tears and hardness of heart,
With sorrow for cellmates
In a prison self-made,
Rather hunger and want 
Then submission to those above,
Wild wanderlust thrust us into darkness
Uncertainty of survival, without care,
Knowing no other way,
We strove to understand the deeds done to us in violence,
Shiver, quake, lie awake, as hopelessness covered us like a blanket,
Thieves and murderers as strange bedfellows,
Ladies of the night for use and forgotten,
Laws of the land forsaken, 
In desperate want, Never knowing if we’d  awaken,
Making our way through this world
Boys living as men,
We threw the line, heaved and toiled
In bright sun and fear,
With hands and feet against the frigid snow,
We lived beyond the breaking,
Many before us have sought their manhood,
While others have had it thrust upon them,
Much has been learned, much has been taught
By the flames and the fire, the crucible savant,
It has been our right of passage
Through bloodstained cloth and scars,
The fathers who came before us, live forever in the Arms,
Painted grey, now I see, the path laid out for me,
By the Infinite Son, whose Glory was won,
Making the savant, a reflection of Thee..


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BEFORE SPRING CAME

Before spring came, in late February
to the blooming and jolly hills 
I ran, breathing heavily and frantically,
touching the perfumed blossoms 
of a solitary, old cherry tree;
and underneath it I sat writing poetry
that hadn't a perfect rhyme and beat! 
Weren't my skills marred by imperfections?    



Canaries and red-breasted robins
flew down and rested on my outstretched legs;
perusing my lines to spot their names,
and when they did, they flapped their wings in gladness!
I could have imagined their joyful words,.
if only they had acquired the gift of speech,
and deeper in their thoughts I would have reached:
to dispel the myth that they had no feelings...



After my short poem was completed,
I reached for my harmonica to play my favorite classic tune;
and being surprised by the paleness of the fading moon,
I dedicated that happy melody to her not to let her despair:
by waving my hand to make her farewell less sad, while I whispered,
" Silent moon, eternal companion of every poet,
what's beyond the realm of this universe?...
Tell us more of those invisible suns and planets! "
 


Before spring came to the dormant valley,
the mountains' peaks allowed the sun to melt their snows,
to create gushing torrents to feed its water to the dry and cracked soil,
which needed rain instead of harmful frost;
and I drank the freshest water and washed my sweaty face,
while fighting off the bees' stubborn rivalry!
That spring has come again to dress herself with incredible splendor,
and this discontent and wishful heart desires nothing more than being there!  


My theme is: Happiness In Childhood