*The Dead Poet*
Many blocks along the road,
Kicking down walls of heavy stones,
Yet no one could draw through the walls of her lonely bones.
A poet who could not write what's inside.
Her pen had gone ink dry.
Her beady eyes lost the feel of an angelic realm.
She tried until she could no longer cry!
A poet who stuttered with the mind and out came no words.
This poet hangs on a mound with a picture that tells a sad tale.
A poem that broke verses in a Carpe diem dream.
She ruffled her arms once more as if she could fly.
Everything felt dead inside.
Trap in a mental state that clots the willing vein.
Isolating her form in a room with no door.
She stays this away from the feel of the marvel pen.
To never go back, and feel again.
In the most ominous way,
She lets out a cry,
A cry, never heard before.
Running from this evil, that stain her world.
Words buried deep and behind a new exterior box,
Her insides grasp all the air of airs once alive.
A talon drop into the next,
This troublesome poet gave up on everything.
Had nothing left, but the empty space within.
She curls herself into a fetal world.
At last, she closes her eyes, to feel no more.
A poet who died the day, joy wiped the glee from her face.
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013
Beneath the realm of Reality
Lies a secret- a world of fantasy
Feasting my eyes upon the faded stone
Delving into a vast world of the unknown
Whispers dance in the curling fog dancing amongst the dead trees
Murmurs of those who have long passed, float against the breeze
Passing the large tree, the gate surrounding the stoned castle
A slender inhabitant, dazzles my mind, his speech facile
Shall I trust this unknown creature, from this the unknown world
His arms, his...tendrils, curl...and around me swirled
My thoughts-he knows them-for he and I are entwined
Further into the dead woods I wonder, a sense of fear encompassing my mind
A bubbling stream I faintly hear, as further I go into the forest
The watery grave seeming to get closer, it's symphony-a chorus
Entranced I follow this fellow into the unknown
Closer and close to the stream i go, further away from the grey stone
Above the lines of fantasy
This, has become my reality
Dreaming-this land I return, once was I lost
But now here I am at home, everything quiet and soft
I search for you amongst the dead
And there, standing behind those gates is cloaked figure-hood on head
I wonder who this master of mystery is, but he soon disappears
A blink of my eye he is gone, and I have not seen him again in years
I search once more for you, my fiendish friend,
But soon I fear you have left me here-to come to my own end
I do not wish to wake, I do not wish to leave this place
Soon I come to spot your featureless face
The King of fright, so tender towards me
Showing me, when I lost my way so long ago, out misty dead trees
But I could not stay away, I wanted to see him again
And thus he promised to return to me again
That forest land I wish to see once more
But I have lost my way, trapped in a darkness forevermore
Kept away from what I so desperately yearn for
To return to that mysterious home I adore
Copyright © Rebecca Larkin | Year Posted 2012
Just sitting there mighty
The ships and the people.
Flags and the eagle.
Just sitting in harbor
That Sunday morn,
Oblivious to battle
And coming forlorn.
Drinking their coffee
And eating their breakfast
Things were going
Right along with their wishes
When suddenly a soldier
Did speak up and say,
"They're some blips on the radar
And they're coming our way!"
Then the officer said
"Now look here you see,
They're our boys coming home
In their B-17's.
So don't get all worked up,
No excitement today,
So get back to working
And resting and play!"
Now planes flying by
Were soon to be heard
But a shout soon went up
"Hey! Those are not our birds!"
Explosions to follow
Soon filled the sky
Now stand up and fight,
Or lay down and die
Guns fired back,
The battle was on,
But pretty soon after
The battleships were gone!
They were stuck in the harbor
With no way out,
And smoke's hanging over
The harbor in clouds
A valiant defensive
The defenders put forth
Desperately trying to
Even the score,
But their goals completed
The enemy turned back
Leaving behind them
Devastation and black
Many men died
On that fateful day
But a little luck came
The American's way!
Their carriers were still,
Far out at sea,
And part of the battle
They never did be!
Pearl Harbor will live on
Stories of those who died
To keep their land free!
Their ultimate sacrifice
Helped the whole world to see
That America's the land
Of the brave and the free!
Copyright © Daniel McAdams | Year Posted 2011
Ballad of the poet
When the moon kissed the sun, and light spread upon the earth. *hh*
Bright and early,
early bird gets the worm.
With sullen time on stand by.... *DJ*"
Spurns emerald valleys that blur upon my new-found perch *J.M.G*
While all nature wakes from slumber in timeless glory. *E.G*
Morning glory stroked by a ceremonious dandelion... whisper~ *K.D*
Bitter like morning breath.
Rooster crows, two songs, I share a note with him.
My cat rises to the sun of a new day.
Stretches into a c with her tongue curled and tail furled *S.K.*
My coffee offers the sweetest taste after a goodbye kiss.
Clever and warm, I twinkle to the new morning light,
as I step outside, something pierced my heart..
~Wing broken, his bow in tow, arrows strewn,
~No flight for thee, love lost, bent arrows I see," *R.M*
Everything I see, everything I feel around me.
Becomes a new song.
Born of many emotions.
I roll them on a paper without a pen.
BUT! In my mind they speak clearly to me~
Look into My eyes with your heart... and there you will find your soul * R.A.D.*
"I hear an angel calling The beastly being within" *R.S*
A new creation awaits beyond the path of dreams content,
Eros and Cupid both shoot through my heart." *J.H.*
As the arrow's liquid enters my soul... *RON*
Will that winged creature with the bow and arrows stop blinking his eyes?" *R.P*
He has stretched his wings too far this time. *V.B.*
"His arrow of love is strumming my heart with golden grace. *L.M*
A Halo'd smile upon my face. * L.H*
Has suddenly turned to a grimace! *G.S.*
(( feel free to add a line** in my comment box... ))
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2012
No man stands alone
in the street, the ring or the combat zone
some lay in the gutter
some sit on a throne
but no man stands alone
At the age of fourteen
he had a dream
to become a rabbi
then his dad was killed by men
who tried to rob the family store
his brothers and sisters were sent away
to an orphanage where they would stay
and though his faith was blown away
he vowed to bring them home someday
To God and man revenge he swore
he walked with gamblers,
hoods and whores
he fit right in
then on a whim
he walked into a boxing gym
he fought Canzoneri in ‘33
for the lightweight title victory
he made up with God
he could reclaim his family
Those McLarnon fights
were the stuff of lore
the only man
to ever put him on the floor
he won two out of three,
then in the Armstrong bout
he nearly died
but was never knocked out
then in 1941
the Japanese pulled a sneaky one
so he joined the marines
and he got a gun
and he sailed into the rising sun
he fought so brave
overmatched like old King Dave
he put twenty attackers
in an early grave
for the one marine
whose life he saved
in a hospital bed
for months and days
they kept him in a morphine haze
then sent him home
strung out and beat
to the pushers on the mean, mean street
Hollywood was very keen
to put his story on the silver screen
but they focused on the drug abuse
he tried to sue
but what’s the use?
Barney Ross was brave and strong
they couldn’t keep him down for long
his rabbi said that he must try
to be a model Jew in the public eye
but from the public eye he slipped
like a phantom radar blip
they say he hunted Nazi criminals
and he ran some guns to Israel
Barney Ross was brave and strong
I thought that he deserved a song
he did some bad
he did some good
and he saved the world
the best he could
Copyright © Art Wright | Year Posted 2013
Relaxing in my very own, rustic tavern
Pondering with a mug full of beer
After a day of hunting in a dark cavern
With my latest kill of a rare deer
Standing around on a bear rug was LeFou
Chatting non-stop with his usual big mouth
Most of the time, he's such a complete fool
Why do I even bother having him around...
Antlers in all of my interior decorating
What's all really there for?
As there's only one thing on wanting
The most beautiful girl I could crave for
It's going to be my precious trophy
To have her and claim her as my wife
She'll never refuse me, I'm so manly
This is a must-win prize of my life
Everyone in town will always adore me
My beautiful muscles, strong must go on
The most intimidating, definitely got to be
YES! No one is more perfect than Gaston!
Copyright © Nileisha Giselle Deliz Diana | Year Posted 2015
Why oh demon have you blocked me from such this place?
Tell me, tell me, I wish to look upon your flawless face
I wish to find that mysterious cloaked figure, walking amongst the dead
his image, his visage appears to me- clouding my head
Take me back to my dreamland, the forests, the fog and the river
Against your touch I no longer shiver
But I implore you, my demon protector take me back to my reality
Do not leave me to continue to face this false fantasy
Bring me back to my dead forest
Where by the brooke I can rest
And I, forever with you, will be free at last
For this reality, will always remain and my love for you grows vast
Above the realm of fantasy
To the blurred lines of the beating heart of Reality
Lies this secret world of the unknown
And a bird, is perched upon the grey castle stone
Contemplatively I watch this bird, such beauty in such a deadened place
His red-black wings, spread as he flys dropping low-almost smacking me in my face
Longingly I yearn to be just as he is, flying content and free
But alas, I am stuck to this broken ground, waiting for you to return to me
My faith in you, is slowly dieing,
heart cracking and crying
I know not why I feel this bond to you
Everything all just so...new
And I wait, and I continue to wait when suddenly there you are
You seem so close-like I can feel you-though you are distant and far
But it doesn't matter because you've returned me and now I am complete in my home
Down here below lost in the unkown
Where no one can find me
And you and I are free
To spead out times wandering aimlessly through the forest dead
Where the inhabitants of this land do not tread
And my mysterious dark figured friend
Watches over me, always been the protector in the end
But to you my heart belongs
And only to you will it ever belong
Beneathe the lines of reality
Lies a secret- a world of fantasty
I find this place often in my dreams-with the castle on the hil, it's faded stone
Down here in the dream of false reality, lieing fantasy-is all to be known
Copyright © Rebecca Larkin | Year Posted 2012
Alexandria was a gallant knight,
She used to sit at Arthur’s Round Table.
Dressed as a boy, she helped knights fight evil
As the Blue eyed hero of this fable.
The young lady fell in love with Arthur,
But unknowing, he married Guinevere.
Alex’s heart was hurt, but she stayed true,
She battled alongside him without fear.
Sparring with Lancelot, she learned to fight,
Alex earned respect from her belov’d king,
He never knew she was an armored girl.
He only saw her long weapons in swing.
On a dark and stormy night they set off,
The knights of Camelot looked for The Grail;
Alex as custom rode by Arthur’s side.
They searched through forest glades without avail.
Finally they came across a large cave,
Its dark and dank depths were filled with despair.
Alex entered in front of the brigade,
Arthur gave her braveness no thought or care.
Down in the black unfathomable cave,
At the farthest reaches a light appeared.
Guided by instincts, they knew this was it,
The home of the Holy Grail they revered.
The room guarding The Grail sparkled with gold,
Hundreds of cups lined the intricate walls.
Together the comrades stood and puzzled.
Which of these cups would bring about their falls?
Would it be a goblet, made out of glass?
Could something like The Cup be plainly wood?
Arthur studied the many chalices.
He thought he’d found it, no one understood.
On a pillar was a gold glass, shining.
Its pleasant brightness filled up the whole room.
Arthur was about to drink its liquid
When Alex interfered and met her doom.
Arthur’s brave knight wanted to try it first,
She knew the wrong choice would bring instant death;
So she begged Arthur to let her test first,
After drinking, she soon ran out of breath.
Alex knew that Christ was a carpenter,
She wasn’t surprised that he’d chosen wrong.
Alex knew that her love would bring her fall,
So our hero bade a silent so long.
Copyright © Beth Watkins | Year Posted 2011
Travis was not tired one bit, he had no intention of sleeping.
He desired more than blankets and covers, and the promises his sheets lay keeping.
In bed, he squirmed, as the candlelight burned, he tossed and turned on his side.
-Oh that he could be someone, somewhere far away, he could be Sir Travis, the Knight.
"Gather round this table" he'd bellow to all, "a dragon approaches the town!"
While villagers trembled, the brave ran away, but Sir Travis, the knight, stood his ground.
This dragon blew flames of blue from his mouth, not a pupil was seen in stare.
But Sir Travis approached, undeterred by smoke, and the fury awaiting him there.
Black were the wings of the serpent whose talons were known to cut armor.
Swift was Sir Travis, his shield, unyielding as sure as his galloping charger.
Fields of wheat were blown back from the impact of sword ringing notes against claw.
Songs sung by creatures of flight were silenced amidst the screaming and brew ha.
A dust hurricane strained to obscure the view from the townspeople watching outside.
The noise and the power unleashed from both sides ensured there was not a dry eye.
And from the cacophony a silhouette formed and a figure emerged from the ashes.
Triumphant, our savior, his sword raised, there was that brave Knight called Sir Travis.
And the villagers cheered and the trumpets sang tributes of many peaceful times to come.
And tales were told of Sir Travis' Dragon and passed down from the old to the young.
-Yet, that night, Travis was not tired one bit, and he had no intention of sleeping.
He desired more than blankets and covers, and the promises his sheets lay keeping.
but to his bed he returned, as the candlelight burned; he lay down and closed his eyes,
As the moon smiled in phase, he again became someone, somewhere far away..
He was Sir Travis.
Sir Travis, the Knight.
Copyright © David Dowling | Year Posted 2008
The Ballad of Tich Tomas
A dog was howling in the night
Perhaps she knew the truth
That Tich would not be coming home
This dog needed no proof
That the man who she loved so
He’d come to her no more
Because Lance corporal Thomas was
A victim of the war.
Now Tich, he was a country boy
His farm it was his life
A boon to his community
He’d give in times of strife
He learned his trade in farming school
With honours he’d come through
Then settled down to work his farm
That’s what he planned to do.
But then, one day it came to him
The news he did not need
He’d been called up for army life
He went off without heed
To do his time in Puckapunyal
To get him set for war
He soon made it as Infanteer
So he joined a fighting corp
He worked real hard and gained a stripe
This showed he had potential
He earned his skills in jungle fighting
And then there came the call
For he to go to Vietnam
To five RAR he was sent
Charlie company was his unit
When off to war he went
It was in April sixty six
Our man went into battle
There in the Phuc Tuy provence
Those guns did roar and rattle
Our Tich he fought real gallantly
So brave was he, but then
The shrapnel done it’s evil job
He joined the fallen men.
They brought his body back to those
Who were waiting for him there
The whole town came to welcome him
And helped with grief and prayer
They buried him with all the honours
That came to fighting souls
Who died to keep their country free
Courageous in their roles.
More honour it was placed on him
By the country where he’d fought
They built a statue in his name
And his likeness it was caught
By the sculptor who did honour him
And carve him into stone
And now Tich Tomas guards the park
As he stands there all alone.
If you’re ever down in Nannup town
Go to the park that’s there
You’ll see the statue of young Tich
As his spirit everywhere
Will fill the souls of those who see
This fighting man, so brave
Who’s body lies so peacefully
In his own town, in a grave.
Written in 2007 In tribute to a great man and soldier who gave his life for his country....Peter
Copyright © Lazy dog Smith | Year Posted 2016
You Rode Into My Town
Gunned all The Lonely Deputies Down
Blew-Up The Bank Of Trust, In Our Face …
Where, There Was Hope … Is Now Empty Space …
… Now, I Gotta Chase You ! …
Armed and Dangerous
Jesse James, Would Be Jealous
… of You – Outlaw !
You’re Outrageous …
… and You’re An Outlaw ! …
Stealing Hearts, Like They Was Gold
… Silver Bullets, Are The Lies, You Told
Just A Masked-Man, Running Away …
No Longing-Arms, Can Make You Stay
… This Is Where You Pay (Now) ! …
# 1 On Our Wanted List …
They Told Me You Never Miss ! …
… In A Duel, or A Quick Kiss …
… You’re An Outlaw !
Rustlin’ Cows and Cheating at Cards
Done Knocked Down, Many A Weak and Off-Guard
I Will Chase You Long and Hard
To Show You, How It Feels To Be Scarred …
… My Personal Reward ! …
$ 10,000.00 Reward
A Dollar, For Each Broken Heart
… Better Get A Head-Start …
Oh, I didn’t do Anything / That’s What All Outlaws Sing!
Oh, I didn’t do Anything / Then, This is Just A Real Bad Dream!
Oh, I didn’t do Anything / Stop! … Then, Where’s Her Dadgum Ring? …
You Avoid Honor, Like A Hangman’s Noose
Out There, Wild and Still Running Loose
Wanted Posters, Up On Every Wall
When They Look At It … Tears Just Fall …
… You’re A Real Quick-Draw ! …
Look At That Brim …
Cocked-Low, Like A Trigger-Rim …
… Yeah, That’s Him ! …
… It’s The Outlaw ! …
This is Showdown For Nerves-On-Edge
No More Hide-Outs; Not Another Hedge
No More Ladies, Lying On A Ledge
No More Lies, Or A Broken Pledge …
… See This Badge !!! …
I Shoot Straight From A Curve-Hip …
You Won’t Get To Give Me The Slip …
You’re Gonna Get Wild-Whipped …
Girl, I Know You’re Hurtin’ / But He Was Only Flirtin’
Luv, Stop Your Crying / Break Free From His Lying
Hon, I’m Doing You A Favor / He Ain’t Never Gonna Put No Ring On Your Finger …
He’s An Outlaw !
(Part One of Two)
Copyright © MoonBee Canady | Year Posted 2009
Nuthin’, But Trouble and Texas-Tuff
But for You – Stuff’s About To Get Rough
By Now, You Should Have Had Enough
Now, Make Your Choice, Hang ‘Em High, or Cuffs ? …
… Come Out With Your Hands Us ! …
Are You That Hot-Bloodied, Heart Killer ? …
Well, You Look A Lot Like Him, Mister …
… by the way, that You Kissed Her …
You’re An Outlaw !
Beneath Stars or by Light Of The Moon
I’m Riding Fast … Will Catch Up Soon
Midnight … Will Be Our Stroke Of High Noon
I Stand-Steady … I Will Not Swoon …
… This Is Your Once In A Blue Moon ! …
… and Outlaw ! … I’m Calling You Out !
Outlaw ! … Come Out, Of Your Hide-Out !
Outlaw ! … There Is No Doubt …
… You’re My Outlaw …
Outlaw ! … I’m Bringing You In !
… You’ll Never Ride The Range Again
Outlaw ! … ‘Cause Only Then …
… You’ll Be My Outlaw … Outlaw !
Copyright © MoonBee Canady | Year Posted 2009
When danger run the city at night
tender folks yield without a fight,
who would actually dare to scream
unless the hole of hell and its notorious dread makes living an eternal dream.
My bride, my pride
it took a whole century to attain your ride
paying full attention to your total submission
clearing all your doubt from your eyes by giving you my attention.
From lovers trust and duty
you came to perform your lot
unaware that vile men worthless as dust
will let beauty forever rust.
A gun command respect
but he's inflict pain
a man who pulled the trigger at a mortal
will not fail to fire a second time..
Though upon life and living you're bent
our spared naira will upon you an eternity be spent
with tear drops from my soul
you have become scarred from our 18th visitor's foe.
May her courageous soul
in her stolen beauty.
For NELSON AND ESTHER.
Copyright © Edoja Faith | Year Posted 2016
Old timers up in Alaska,
If you buy ’em a bottle or two,
Will tell you some big lies and whoppers
Or ‘least stuff that is mostly untrue.
And the strangest story they’ll tell you
Is the tale of St. Louie Fred.
But old timers I’ve met to a man have said
That every word of this tale is true.
Fred, who hailed from Nebraska,
Was a mighty big sort of a man.
And he sailed on up to Alaska
With a mighty big sort of a plan.
Said he meant to establish a health spa
Out in the snow and the ice,
Out in the wilds of Alaska
Where he thought he could get a good price.
He told all of those who would listen
And most of those who wouldn’t
That their return-on-investment would glisten
From the money those rich folks spent.
So with funds from the guys who bought shares
Out into the wild went Fred
To check out the scenery that’s out there,
Or at least that was what he said.
When he failed to return, his investors’ concerns
Were a pitiful sight to behold.
A meeting was called but quickly adjourned
And they lit out into the snow and the cold.
They brought ‘long a rope, in the remote
Chance it’d find a use or two.
But all that they found was Fred’s bloody coat
And some nearby bear tracks,
So they thought that his chances were few.
But some say Fred got to Miami,
And some say he's in Kuala Lumpur,
Sipping coladas and brandy
With a big bear-skin rug on the floor.
Dec. 7, 2016 ("Epic" contest entry)
Copyright © Jerome Malenfant | Year Posted 2016
he loves to get hi
living a life of his own morals
they blame him for what they cannot understand
they hate him for what they cannot bear
painfull,is what his younger days have been
he still reminisces of the cause that made him what they despise
his mother told him to go out and get paid
the moment she pushed him out of her womb
they name him looser because he makes his money
deviating from the system's rules
but to me he's a hero
for he fights for the cause he belives in
he surely will die for that cause
Copyright © Emmanuel Balele | Year Posted 2005
I speak not, I trace not, I breathe not thy name;
There is grief in the sound, there is guilt in the fame;
But the tear that now burns on my cheek may impart
The deep thoughts that dwell in that silence of heart.
Too brief for our passion, too long for our peace,
Were those hours - can their joy or their bitterness cease?
We repent, we abjure, we will break from our chain, -
We will part, we will fly to - unite it again!
Oh! thine be the gladness, and mine be the guilt!
Forgive me, adored one! - forsake if thou wilt;
But the heart which is thine shall expire undebased,
And man shall not break it - whatever thou may'st.
And stern to the haughty, but humble to thee,
This soul in its bitterest blackness shall be;
And our days seem as swift, and our moments more sweet,
With thee at my side, than with worlds at our feet.
One sigh of thy sorrow, one look of thy love,
Shall turn me or fix, shall reward or reprove.
And the heartless may wonder at all I resign -
Thy lips shall reply, not to them, but to mine
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(?) Maryna Tchianova 2016
Honourably devoted to George Gordon Byron,
The UK, the US and Ukraine,
with deep respect for all the aforenamed literatures and faith in the Ukrainian nation through the thick and thin.
Copyright © Maryna Tchianova | Year Posted 2016