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Epic Tribute Poems | Epic Poems About Tribute

These Epic Tribute poems are examples of Epic poems about Tribute. These are the best examples of Epic Tribute poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse | |

THE GOLDEN PEN

Lightly the rain falls upon the lamp lit streets, the shabbily dressed figure
Walks with an air of uncertainty down the cobbled stone streets, leaning,
On his rickety cane, the elderly gentleman huddles beneath his umbrella Of refuge.
Shadows of the tenement brownstones line the edge of this rough necked
Part of town, here is the sheltering halls of the forgotten do dwell, the poorer
Venue that slum lords build their fortune’s foundation’s upon.
The gentlemen approaches his own dwellings dormancy with hesitations
Beating heart throbbing within his small fragile bent frame, for he knows
Tonight shall be his last night on this ethereal plane of existence.
For one last moments belief reflection he remains completely still, just to
To feel the autumn breeze against his bare flesh, to hear the rain drops hitting
Against the window panes, and to bid his final farewell to humanity.
Taking out his keys with his wrinkled twisted hands, he unlocks the doors
To his apartment, turning around to look outwards the gentlemen sighs, it has
Been a hard life, but I’m resolved to meet the next adventure, then he shuts
And locks the tenement’s door.
Weary from his days traveling the elderly gentlemen, climbs his steps upwards,
Towards his little room in the back area of his apartments, then he sits at his office
Desk for the last and final time, now to complete my journeys final entry, he thought
To himself this writer of the super natural’s acclaim.
Dipping his quilted golden pen into his ink well, the master writes one last line,
The end, or is this just the beginning?
Clumping over, clasping upon his desk the elder gentlemen’s heart lies stilled
As if at perfection’s final rest, his golden pen now runs crimson, bleeding downwards
Across the aged parchment paper, dripping onto the old wooden floor boards below.
The office door blows open a tall figure thus so enters, dressed in a raggedy robe of black,
Thread borne and full of tares and wholes, the creature approaches the dead gentleman,
As if in a screeching howl, the Grim Reapers touches him, ripping his spectral spirit
Free from the fleshes boney shell.
I’ve come for you old man, resist me not for your sins are heavy, and I’ve no time for
The ranting or ravening’s last pleas for salvations from one such as yourself, I have no
Last wishes qualms my friend, take me at your leisure, for I’ve grown weary of this life,
And it’s lonely emptiness.
Then the room grows cold, the ethereal disturbance ends as quickly as it had begun,
Leaving only the shell sitting at the old wooden desk, what happens when the writers
Golden pen runs crimson, bleeding downwards across the aged parchment paper,
Dripping onto the old wooden floor boards below?
The world of humanity thus so weeps for him, for he is the grand master of darkness’s
Written word, the skilled craftsman’s whom reveals what lies beyond the darker realms
Ebony gates, by his darker words of wonderment.
Farewell Mr. Edgar Allen Poe, we shall miss you always, you whom welcomed death
So easily, but the world of men is left empty without thee, as thy golden pen thus so
Now runs crimson and lies stilled forever.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
SCATCH A CHARACTER CONTEST
10-19-2014


Details | Epic | |

A Visit From Santa Claus

It was Christmas Eve, not a soul made a sound,
And not so much as a mouse could be found,
The children had hung their stockings on the hearth,
As a quiet, peacefulness gently fell upon the Earth,
My family were all asleep, their heads full of dream,
Of Santa's arrival with his eight reindeer team,

Father in his nightcap, slept soundly in bed,
And Mother in her nightgown of green and red,
When all of a sudden I heard a commotion,
And jumped out of bed with a curious notion,
I ran to the window and pulled open the curtain,
I thought it must be Santa Claus for certain,

New fallen snow shone bright below the moon,
Giving the illusion of daylight in mid afternoon,
I looked out my open window despite the cold,
When a sight met my eyes, wondrous to behold,
A lively, old gentleman aboard a great sleigh,
With eight flying reindeer leading the way,

As quick as a bolt of lightning out of the sky,
He called to each one as they rocketed by,
"Now, Donner! Now, Vixen! Now, Dasher and Dancer,
On, Cupid! On, Blitzen! On, Comet and Prancer,
Leap up to the wall and onto the rooftop,
Dash away all and let us make our first stop!"

They flew through the air with much ease,
Like dry autumn leaves on a sudden breeze,
The reindeer landed so smooth and swift,
Along with Santa and a sleigh full of gifts,

I heard their hoofs pawing upon the shingle,
And joyful laughter from that old Kris Kringle,
I ran downstairs to catch a glimpse of his face,
Just as he came down, out of the fireplace,

He was cloaked in red with a fur trimmed suit,
And covered in soot from his hat to his boot,
A large sack full of presents he carried along,
He opened it up as he hummed a Christmas song,
With much merriment his blue eyes twinkled,
His face was joyful, and yet somewhat wrinkled,

His cheeks were blushed like the berries in holly,
His snow white beard was long and quite jolly,
From his pipe came out a great puff of smoke,
He began his work and not a word he spoke,
Santa Claus was tall, with a belly quite round,
And his laughter was a most glorious sound,

I looked on with glee as a smile crossed my face,
When he approached and gave me a warm embrace,
Then, Santa placed several gifts beneath our tree,
Something for the children, and Father, and me,

He filled the stockings with sugarplums and a toy,
Which I know will delight my little girl and boy,
The midnight hour on the mantel clock chimed,
He turned, then back up the chimney he climbed,

With a whistle he signaled for his reindeer to go,
And away they flew with a hearty, "Ho, ho, ho!,"
Before disappearing Santa exclaimed from his sleigh,
"To all a good night and a Happy Christmas Day!"



(repost)




Details | Rhyme | |

WHITE DEVIL

White Devil

Call it what you want!
I call it, his favorite season hunt...
Two hoofs imprinted near the riverfront.
Echoes calling my soul with a loud, ferocious grunt.

I smell it in the air, lost upon the white golden stair.
A deep frost dwelling all over his lair.
Tangled by the frozen grip of my hair.
A decision, I declare to give what he won't spare.

This man has no red suit..
Lurking in the white to recruit.
A midnight suicide clouding me with pollute.
I pause my tongue on mute, lost in a white castle chute.

Headed straight into a shivering blazing star path.
The land of snow covered like a bubble bath.
Breaking icicles like crystal glass, suck3d by the milky-way mass.
Multiplying bruises like a cascade, enjoying the aftermath. 

Finding a way to slit the pain in my domain.
I grab a coat and lace my name to Mary-Jane.
Inserting the finest line to ease the drain in my brain.
I drink the icy scotch, and drop a silver nickel into the devils cocaine.

Fallen in to his bait, its too late, I got 7 lines on my dinner plate.
I'm covered up in snow, enjoying the amazing way to suffocate.
Eight beats to every minute is my new heart rate.
I'm reaching for the white golden gate, where the white devil waits.

Drowning like liquor in a frappe mixing the winter's high tide.
Death to my soul is where I hide under this white blanket neutral side.
Too heavy to uplift this storm lost in the devil's cold custard suicide guide.
Waking up in a coma, in a world where white collides with the rage of suicide.

by;p.d.   
 (( Trapped in a snowy blizzard))


Details | Marsiya | |

I'm my Daddy Made Over

Dedicated to my Dad Jerry W. Niday 3/20/1952 - 6/18/2013


I am who I am because of him
He’s the reason for my son’s name
He gave me my courage & my strength
To stand tall even when standing wasn’t easy
Stand for the ones who can’t
To think and fend for myself
I’m my Daddy made over

Taught me to fight back 
To never back down
How to pick myself back up
When I’ve been knocked down
Fight for what I believe
I’m my Daddy made over

He gave me my stubbornness 
Gave me my pride
Gave me my temper
Taught me not to take crap
To speak my mind no matter who
Work for what I want
I’m my Daddy made over

How to keep my emotions in check
How to handle large amounts of pain
When in trouble he always had my back
He knew how my mind worked better than anyone
I got it from him
I’m my Daddy made over

Even though he’s gone
I’ll stand and continue on 
I may stumble I may fall 
May even get hurt along the way
But I’ll pick myself back up
I’ll dust myself off and stand tall
I’m honored and proud to say
I’m my Daddy made over


Sabrina Niday Hansel



Details | Rhyme | |

The Shadow with Scizophrenia

I walked upon an empty step,
Where a shadowed body was kept.
The shadow was beat,
Turning as cold as winter sleet.

It had bright blue eyes,
That extended all through the skies.
The shadow was nine,
Living to be blind.

I walked to the figure,
As it would evilly linger.
People would laugh at it,
As it snarled and bit.

The shadow diagnosed with 
schizophrenia,
Beating itself, the others, as if a 
mania. 
No one could reach out,
No one gave it water, as it was in a 
drought.

I was determined to bring its colors,
Be the one to treat it like no other.
The shadow hated me,
Told me Hell is where I should be.

Not giving in,
Not creating one other sin.
I drew it pictures, wrote it letters,
Tried to blossom its feathers.

Then the day came,
When there had to be an end to the 
game.
Not wanting to leave,
Not wanting the devil to its thieve.

As I was bout to walk through the 
door,
The shadow came upon me, on the 
open floor.
Held out his arms,
As I smiled and lowered his alarms.

The shadow had a name,
Brought about with little shame.
The shadow was a boy,
Played with by the devil as if a toy.

I played with fire,
Burning loosely like a run away tire.
But he finally knew I was there,
Someone who was willing to care.


Details | Free verse | |

Jamaica IsLands

Sun blazed;
Crystal clear
Skies, sparkle
Diamonds of
True beauty bliss...

Jamaica Islands
Exports with "JAH LOVE",
NO DISCRIMINATION.

SO Break-Out the tanning-oil
and beach towel kick-off 
your shoes, let your
Hair down N' hang- loose...
For awhile.

Take A swim to refresh 
Your mind and feel relaxed
Sand tickling your toes.

Peacefully and Enjoy Life:
For "JAMAICA ISLANDS IS;
HERE TO STAY...." WE ARE
ALL ONE BIG FAM AT JAMAICA 
ISLANDS!!!"

Written By:
SWEET N' SOUR= CARMA

06-24-12


A Tribute to a great poet n' writer:
RICHARD PALMER        THANK YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT
                                        SOUP " FAM" TO THE END....

Entered in contest Letting your hair down
Sponsored by: Yasmin Khan


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

Song Of The Seamen And Their Ship Called Mary Rose

Mary Rose, the mighty sailing sea vessel glided majestically across the waves 
She had robustly and bravely sailed the briny waves for many a night and day
With the ocean's heaving gusting squalls blowing off proud stern and mast
Sailing victorious and proud - her billowing white sails were cast
The calm, liquid waters of the sea flowed quietly purple for now-
Unaware of the coming storm that would beat furious against her bow 

Her alabaster sails whipped violent and furious in the oncoming storm
Impending doom was yelling its cries while the seamen went unwarned
Down below, inside their cabins the seamen peacefully slept
Wrapped in the secure watch that their gallant captain kept
The oceans black, boiling waves beat savage against starboard and port
As Captain Noe standing fearless - at first quake, did not the storm report

The old wooden beams of the Mary Rose began to restlessly moan and creak
While the blackened roaring, rolling waves beat furious against her feet
Her alabaster sails rose proud- beating mighty against wailing squalls and gusts
While deep inside the bow in bunks, the sleeping seamen thrust 

Suddenly...they heard the captain's distraught voice cry out 
When the seamen heard his voice -they heard fear without doubt
“Awake, all of ye’ ”,   Captain Noe forcefully roared
“Alive! Awake… all ye’ seaman come quickly up on board”!

The savage spirit of the sea reigned fierce with rage and fear
While the brave captain fought - loyal seaman brought up the rear
They courageously fought together - not silenced by the eye of death
As the sea raged violently against them with its brutal, menacing breath 

To save their mighty Mary Rose, they’d dip their very souls in blood 
Leaving themselves merciless against this drunken, mighty flood
With plank and bow standing fierce between them and their fate
The raging ocean’s fierce, blackened waves - the sea they could not hate

The morning brought the warming sun which rose broad above the waves
The winds had tamed their violent voice against captain and seaman brave
With unshakable courage and seaman’s wit not once were spirits broke
Each cheered his mate and captain strong as they fought with steady stroke
Their peril fought in days of danger and night filled with pain
Their manly courage did not wane - their fight was not in vain
For all the courageous seamen and their brave Captain Noe
Joined together in hand and spirit to save...their proud Mary Rose 




Details | Narrative | |

He Loved You

He loved you too, you know
Loved you like his very own
In away you were
You came into his life as my friend
Through the years you grew to be my brother in arms 
Along the way you became the son he never had

He loved you as a friend
He loved you even more as a son
A son he never had
When things began to spiral out of control
You stayed when so many others ran away
You helped when I couldn’t

You meant a great deal to him
You never looked at him differently 
Nor did you treat him differently
You stood by his side
When he fell, you stood by his side and mine
You were willing to help me fight his battle for him 
You were there from the beginning 
You were there until the bitter end
Always remember my friend, my brother
He loved you more than you’ll ever know


____________________________________________________________
Dedicated to close Family friend Rodney Howard. He loved my Daddy just as much as I did/do.


Details | Epic | |

We Lost More Than a Dad

We lost more than just a Dad that day
We lost half of how we came to be
We lost we four girls first love
We lost our Best Friend

We lost more than just a Dad that day
Our Mom lost her Soul Mate, Her other half 
Our children lost their Papaw
We lost our family’s foundation 
We lost the glue that held us together

We lost more than just a Dad that day
We lost the Strongest man we ever knew 
We lost the man we looked up too
We lost we four girls Teacher of many things

We lost more than just a Dad that day
We four girls lost our Hero
We lost some of our Light
We lost part of our Heart
We lost part of our Soul

We lost more than just a Dad that day
We lost some of our Courage
We lost some of our Strength
We lost some of our will to fight back
We lost some of our will to carry on
We four girls lost more than a Dad
We lost more than just a Dad that day


Details | Free verse | |

Generic Minds

generic minds listen to generic music
have generic thoughts that are unknowingly abusive
watch generic things talk about generic things
gee this generic *****is spreading like a disease
better get your flu shot 
thats what they said to me
a suicidal vaccine 
a subliminal killing spree
its contagious and the outrageous
thing about it is that the people are blind in an eye
that they didn't even know they had
it's sickening to watch these clueless civilians 
inside the looking glass
with nightmares of being free
without a key to their mind
for it is trapped in the frequency
in the illusion of time
bathed in our universe
killing all that refuse to see
those that admit to hypocracy
or see the message in hip hop
how cant you see
the message in the lyrics that
bring adolescents to their knees
from bullet wounds conflicting their flesh
contradicting that they're the best
but the songs keep telling them that they dont need no rest
that they dont wanna go home
that they should ride alone
with the gat as their only companion
and so the only path they choose is the one that they're told
until they grow old and hope turns to a window pane
inside a window pane, until all they feel is pain
they realize that the music itself is ashamed
so whats to look up to
when you cant even speak when you cant even walk because you look so bleak
your eyes are sunken from the tv you're infested with the dee zees
now its too late to turn around and live for your conscious
so when youre screaming oh please
close your eyes and bring your mind to life
open your eyes for the first time
and never wonder why
since the answer this entire time
has been inside
and you better find it before you die
you dont want your soul to be in a pool with all the others
a buncha brothers missing their mothers
but only seeing strangers
only feeling the haters
wishing they would have used their minds when they had them
and now its too late,
now it's time for another new born fate to grab them


Details | Epic | |

young American days


              
                   To be in a young America ~
           visions of a ship upcoming statue of Liberty
               the young lad holding tightly to his Mothers leg
             in all excitement of a new Land to call their own
      celebrations of apple pie and fireworks on the 4th of July 
          
             thoughts of the old Hollywood on screen 
                films without 3-D costing less then a dollar
        Greta , Monroe , Betty Davis eyes tantalizing blue glare
       The Wizard of Oz or books written by Steinbach, Capote, Mark Twain

             exciting new visions of creating new concepts 
                 before Capitalism bought all little ones to bigger
           songs came from the hills of Virginia to the black Mountains
               surfacing in Tennessee for all to hear and wish to see  

          The day when one travelled by car on the road travelled
             every town a story told , learning history we once shed blood 
         American Indian tears to the British man whom choose freedom of taxes
            Boston held a tea party , now wishing they threw out marmite instead
 
         The day when we knew our neighbors and bought homes with a paystub
             Everyone had a chance to make their own with pride , even through wars
        When Martin Luther King stood proudly as did President Lincoln for Freedom 
             How many streets have been named after the man whom had a dream ?

             When milk was delivered on doorsteps in Glass bottles 
                 Babies wanting the very first of the top being cream 
             leaving doors open , watching news with your family at 6pm
                cartoons were shut down and it was now grown up time 

                      Cereal being a cheap snack for after school 
                         school supplies costing twenty dollars 
                      Grandma school clothes shopping for fifty 
                   before the internet , cell phones , and text for hello ~

                         2 week Vacations not afraid to put up Camp 
                Christmas sold in December with the sentiment of Love not money
        a day when if one were sick , you could actually get penicillin without question 
         The Doctor treated everything calling it General Practice no fear of Malpractice 

               Never forgetting our Motor city  
                 Old Ford Trucks Chevrolets and Dodge
                  The city that brought Ottis Reding and Marvin Gaye 
               

                     What happened to us ?  Where did America Go ? 

                   

         
  


Details | Blank verse | |

he is leaving home

                            
                  In great respect of the band I grew up listening to
                       as sure as Mom passed down Saturday Chores 
                      for I had been chosen to scrub bathroom floors `

                    Yet a familiar sound would bring me to keep scrubbing
                       The red album, The blue album , The White album 
                        Then .. Abbey Road , always remembering the sad look on
                  Ringo's face ,  something hard to understand underneath~
                       
                      I get it now, what you were saying all those years ago ,
                    the many sad lonely tears , secret tears , secret fears 
                    For Maxwell's Hammer was a real one . It wanted silence

                    Going back ..remembering when John Lennon died 
                      I was in Arkansas saddened with the world .
                      Then seeing his face saying " Drag isn't it " 
                      No .. this was not my hero in music and song .

                      he was a stand in hired William , he filled his shoes 
                      bringing diversity to create so much beautiful music from loss

                       One left standing , alone;; grief struck on back cover ~
                       The other identity hidden, tried to be part of ..coming together
                                                                                                                                                                        
                            his  world of secrets
                        He to suffers today , in fear , Faul~
                       
                        Too many years gone by .let us tell the Truth. Let us be free
                         The very sad long and winding Road ~
                         Let us Bury our real Paul. 

                         No more " Mystery tour "
                             No more fear 
                                Let him be in peace ~


           Inspired by " The Last Testament of George Harrison , Is Paul Dead ? "

                






Details | Rhyme | |

Kingdom Lost

In summertime, the ivy climbs,
and hides the castle wall.
The king dreams of late,
that the sea is so great,
and yet - his boat is so small.
As swift as a fox and
dark as a raven on wing,
seven hundred soldiers march  
into the valley of the king.
Long overdue, a battle ensues
flanking the powers that be.
Children cry, and good men die, 
the monarch is now on his knee…
Soon the horsemen alone 
try to maintain the throne.
But the long way around
is the shortest way home.
The evening is filled
with chaos and smoke,
and the kingdom is 
stunned by it all…
Soon the sun will go down,
and in spite of his crown, 
the king will undoubtedly fall…
His rival’s strength
was mistaken,
by a king overtaken,
his life is now but a pawn.
His authority lifted,
the power has shifted –
an era of glory is gone…
 
 
Copyright © 2013
 


Details | Verse | |

I Don't Hate America

I Don’t Hate America

I like the country I live in
That doesn’t mean I have to sing their songs
to prove that sh@!.
That doesn't mean that 
I can just can’t get over the fact that
they murdered the people who built it
 
America was dedicated to a proposition that
“all men are created equal, except
for women, indians and blacks

The white men were just fine is what we were told 
but what about those who were stolen that never made it over to NEW WORLD?
The ones that were thrown overboard and
those who died from sickness while in transport

Remember those who were born into slavery and never even knew what freedom was before their physical bodies left
and people like Thomas Jefferson
He understood that slavery was wrong but did not free his own until his death
What about those who beaten senseless and burned, and hanged,  
All while screaming “Nigger" What’s your new name?
Oh how soon do we forget…
That’s why I despise that word and
I don’t care who it is that uses it
#u$k that slavery sh@!
And #u$k that flag b@%ch!
#u$k you America because you’ve always made things hard .
So don’t look at me strange when I show those songs disregard and those fake ass patriotic undertones about how we are the land of the free
more like the land of the captured and the Home of the Slaves, see

I don’t’ hate America
I can be and do and go as I please
But, then I remember the poor people they injected with disease 
They thought they were getting free health care but the doctor is giving them syphilis 
Please! 

I remember the natives of this land
They slaughtered and labored them to work for freedom in their own land 

I remember the Civil War 
where we were a country divided by the Mason Dixon Line
The north and the south of the same country at war to save lives
 
I don’t hate America
This is my home 
But I refuse to let the things that 
my ancestors endured during the struggle of building SUCH A FINE COUNTRY be forgotten
It’s 2012 and the politicians still plottin to find a way to take away the black vote 
It’s the same shit, but now they just don’t use the noose to choke the life out of souls  
I’m so tired of the constitution and it’s loop holes, and amendments, and acts, and laws
This just proves that man can’t govern themselves because even with all these rules we constantly fall into the black hole deeper and deeper
I don’t hate America
I just choose to not take part in its little song and dance
I pledge my allegiance to God 
and continue to write and lose myself in my poetic trans 


Details | Epic | |

MANDELA: LEGACY OF SACRIFICE

 UNSUPPORTED CODE 


Details | Ode | |

Ode To Jose Rizal

sited down with his head, the chilled lonely table.
pen cries lovely piece of solemn lyrics, his head uttered.
last sky may be till tomorrow, no more other days.
I saw tears fell among dusty floor, a nail stroke my heart.

farewell dearly beloved, his first solemn phrase.
he dream for shiny beloved land, smiling at the sun.
where moon creates gold, for better own children alone.
he wish for a dream, where he wouldn't  taste at all.

heaviest morning comes like a mourning cloud.
as counted journey flew to the end of sight.
he let his feet move, conquered the fear so dim.
as tied hands live the shadowed song, heart on grave.

farewell dearly beloved, his last dying words
before the guns vomit a deadly burning fumes
tears just fall, while smile been seen glowing
the hero just shout, set free my beloved land.


Authors Note:
This is a story of the last day before the death of the Philippine National Hero, Dr. Jose Rizal.
From the night of the his last piece written the Mi Ultimo Adios, to the time of the firing squad.


Details | Bio | |

Solitude: To Yoda, An Ode

Green bark a prism creates,
Feel the pull of earth, you must.

Rotates, a slime of endless hates,
Can hold me not, this world’s crust.

Friendship’s ties, isolation Deflates,
Succumbs, my spaceship, to bitter rust.

Mist, my soul forever permeates,
Lift-off, booms the rocket’s thrust.

My spirit when light returns, elates,
Swamps swell, swallowed hope’s swirling dust.

Trapped, I am, until student from fate
Arrives to learn; Cloud City or bust.


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

To a Bride Without a Name

Oh Flora, Choral Beauty The Sun Rises With You Out of An Abyss of Chaos, Yet No Piece of Beauty Is Lost I Can't Grant You Nobility, But Our Love's Vitality Will Last Till The Gates of Hades's Halls They Will Push, They Will Pull, And Their Power Will Grow Just To Have A Piece of Our Love's Immortality For It They Cannot Wait Subdued By Desperation's Phantom But I Will Always Be One of Them So, My Dear, Please Understand I'm Just A Chevalier Drenched With My Sins The Hope Will Fade The Rose Will Turn Black The Promise Was Just I Lie, Though I Forbade I Will Just Be Another Empty Heart, Slain By Your Loosening Grip On My Sanity I Will Die, You Will Be Free Believe - It's The Way Things Must Be My Dear, Just Understand


Details | Lyric | |

Coming From Where I'm From

Coming from where I’m from
By Nate Spears
Published 2013 in “Death OF A Rose” By Nate Spears


Coming from where I’m from
Every day is a battle to survive 
War is in session 
Right before our eyes

Each day we battle lessons
Just to be in the running for blessings
Coming from where I’m from
We move rapidly on missions

The dead is alive with every walk of the lifeless 
Limited income withholds wealth
The living is near death
Spirits are stripped of guilt

Coming from where I’m from
Deprived wealth
Creates bad health 
In occurrence to this 
Good feelings are killed


The worst gets exposed 
As times get worse
Financial situations become a disaster
No man on earth can rehearse
 
The world is broken
Hunger brings harm
Coming from where I’m from
Dictatorship is not fond

The environment brings the need to shoot
These activities loosens the roots
We’re grounded by values as thin as a pin
We lose ourselves at falling rates like bowling pens

No free passes
Prisons filled in masses
Separated by classes
Coming from where I’m from.



Details | Ode | |

ODE OF OLD

Salute to the ode of old
Be wary of the ghosts it leaves
The remnant and seeds of its wake


Salute to the whore of kings
Its corpse and stench reeks still
The wise and deep court still


Salute to the living dead
Frail but rears its head
With words than never bend

Salute, I say, Ode
For yonder when I die
In spite of the odium I hold
You’d still be lying there


Details | Rhyme | |

Legend of the Red October Run

Dedicated to the 2000 National College Football Champions, the Oklahoma Sooners 

--------------------------------------------------------------

Over fifty years, boy and man, I’ve been a Sooners fan
Watched and reveled in their glories, every one;
But there’s no more glorious “Sooner Magic” 
Than the Red October Run.

The new millennium's first football season,
Excited Sooners fans’ hopes did soar.
They had tasted victory in Bob Stoops’ first year;
Now, they wanted - no, expected - even more.

There was a glint of promise in Bob’s eyes,
Strength and confidence in his every word.
“Our Team has shown improvement”, is what he said;
“We’ll win!” is what fans heard.

By September’s end, the Sooners were 4 and O,
A “cupcake schedule” some anxious fans would say;
Twenty-two days in October would rule their destiny.
Texas, K-State, Nebraska, the teams they’d have to play.

“OU’s October is a gauntlet”, said ESPN;
“Play #10 and #2 and #1…and win”?
So, on a rainy Saturday morning in Dallas,
The Red October Run would begin.

The Texas State Fair at the Cotton Bowl,
Fans were welcomed by Big Tex.
They screamed, “Go OU!” and “Hook’em Horns!”;
But none could imagine what happened next.

Heupel was a dominating General;
The Sooners Offense, his relentless troops.
Calmus and the Defense assured a total rout,
The Coach of the Day was Bob Stoops.

Sooners fans were wild, delirious with glee;
But Bob seemed focused and sedate.
“We’ll enjoy this victory Sunday;
Then Monday, we’ll prepare for Kansas State”.

No time to revel in the Glory, #2 was tough.
Better than the Huskers?  The possibility was real.
The road to #1 went through Manhattan,
And the Sooners would have to win it on the field.

The sportscasters had a field day.
Last year’s “coaching coup” was news again.
Beasley versus Heupel was “The Match-up”.
Could Heupel evade K-State’s awesome defense 
   and find a way to win? 

Again, Heupel and his troops met the challenge;
And as the Sooners “D” assured a hard fought win,
Every Sooners fan’s heart was stirred.
Could our Sooners be “Big Red” again?

Mighty Nebraska, #1, was coming to Owen Field.
“Biggest OU - Nebraska game in years!” Corso said.
It would be 1 versus 2, a heralded gridiron epic
For the coveted title of…”Big Red”.

It was OU’s biggest home game ever.
The campus was alive with vendors and would-be 
   ticket buyers.
Every Sooners Fan’s heart was pounding.
Could the smell of #1 stoke the Sooners' fires?

The Huskers struck so quickly.
At 14 to nothing, Sooners fans were stunned.
It was shaping up to be a long, long day;
And it wasn’t going to be fun.

Quickly tho’, Heupel rallied his Sooners troops.
They scored and scored and scored again.
The Sooners “D” built a Wall at the 50,
And would not let the Huskers in.

Winners, the Sooners ran and jumped with glee.
Fans flooded Owen Field, milling all around,
Praising and hugging their Sooners Heroes.
They even tore the goal post down.

Now #1, the Sooners had won it on the field.
Their preparation had been well taught.
Bob Stoops, all his great coaches and assistants,
Took pride in how the Sooners fought.

Someone once said, “Everyone loves a winner.”
Everywhere you looked confirmed it’s true.
OU flags fluttered.  Decals, hats, and clothes abound.
Come November, the Sooners and their Fans
    had been renewed,

There’s no slighting the importance of Red October.
The Sooners came together as a Team.
No doubt too, without “The Red October Run”
Their National Championship would still be just a dream.

For the next five games, it was simply unacceptable
For the Sooners to even think that they could fail;
And, tho’ Heupel played injured, they won the Big 12 Championship;
Great Sooners Defense had prevailed.

But no one gave these Big 12 Champs the slightest chance to win
Against the mighty Seminoles of Florida State.
The Heisman Trophy Winner was their quarterback
And their defense was touted to be great.

At the coin toss, Team Captain Torrance Marshall
Said to their quarterback in words most serious and sure,
“You took our boy’s trophy”.  Then he smiled,
“Now we’re gonna take yours”.

The Sooners “D” was everywhere and completely shut them down;
And, when Quentin Griffin’s touchdown closed the door,
Their quarterback knew that Marshall’s words rang true;
The not-so-mighty ‘Noles had not been allowed to score.

Yes, Bob Stoops and his Sooners knew the challenge:
To win Each game ‘til Every game’s been won;
Win for Sooners and their Fans the unchallenged right
To revel in the Glory of being #1.

Yes, my Sooners Team goes on and on,
Different faces, different names;
But these Sooners Champions will be well remembered
For the Season they won Every game.

Undefeated National Champions!
Before October, who would have ever dreamed?
Why, just last year, we didn’t even know the players' names;
And now, they’re College Football’s Greatest Team.

To overcome all adversity and rise to every challenge,
The reward for such a feat is being #1;
Their path to Glory born of a Sooners Legend
Called The Red October Run.

-----------------------------------------



Details | Sonnet | |

Sunken Tears

                                   He stood bravely before me 
                           with a medal of honor in his right hand
                        and a bandage of agony around his left knee
                           It seemed like he had struggled to stand,
                             his crutches lay useless on the ground
                                 I found it hard to understand why,
                                 a soldier in pain didn't even frown
                                      With a voice firm but dry
                                 his words shook me like thunder
                                "You're now the man of this house"
                                 he uttered like a worn-out hunter
                            quivering up my legs like a terrified mouse
                                 Drowning my mind through cold ears
                        he passed his sincere respect and sunken tears


Details | Free verse | |

THE MUSIC MAN

At eases rest, he sits waiting,
The guitarist.
Withered arthritic hands,
Shake now.
His study gaze strains,
To read the noted page.
Thoughts drifting, pondering,
A gentler pace.
Reflections pause, amongst, 
Remembrance still waters.
Life's forgotten rambler, 
Traveling along destiny’s,
Long lost highways.
Castaways absent player, 
In limbos mindless game.
A migrant hobo, 
Leaving reality's seasonal,
Venues behind.
God's harvest lies beyond,
In glories golden fields.
No lyrics express liberation’s,
Abandonment, freedoms release,
From pains well worn shell.
Lifted above griefs, loving kindred,
Peal away regrets many veils,
Layer by layer exposing,
Destiny's beauty in misty hews. 
A new adventure begins,
On horizons, magnificent canvas,
Behold a grand expanse.
A spirit soars, following an
Everlasting light.
It is peace without expression, 
Mankind’s ultimate fulfillment,
And loves final achievement.
Celebrations joy receives salvation's, 
Lost lamb.
In hymens sacred choir he'll join in,
Playing God's gospel, angel's voices,
Are raised in praise.
Strumming at his best, 
Within divinities,
Heavenly band.
Sweet melodies song echoes, 
Beneath stars shinning light.
The music man smiles,
 I've finally come home at last.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN


Details | Couplet | |

Cactus Heart

You would assume I am thirsty in this dire heat,
Or that my needles would cause others to quickly retreat,
You would conclude that my flowers were only for show
Or that if someone didn’t water me I would never grow,
But what you don’t see in plain eye sight
Is that I am flourishing with waters of integrity and might,
Under these thorns you call choked up defenses
Breeds the strength to survive all forms and pretenses,
To you I require little maintenance… but I know better,
I know how to absorb all I need in good and bad weather,
For I was strategically placed in this atmosphere,
All I need dwells in my structure enabling me to stay clear
Of beasts that lurk when sandstorms arise,
When mirages start to mesmerize,
When signs and wonders appear in fallen skies,
And soldiers forget to break ancient soul ties,
I stand my post and flaunt my spikes,
A cactus heart survives all flights.

By: Sabina Nicole
Written: In a Very dry Place
Contest: Forgot


Details | Free verse | |

THE AMAZON

Invisible figures moving in the mists of time,
Hidden female phantoms, masters of the wilderness
Wild, blending in as chameleons, they are the unseen.
Legend's cryptic tribe. 
Maidens veiled beneath mysteries coverlet’s of beauty,
Vanishing, as if a vapors mystic dream, created by ancient
Historic mythology.
But nay the Amazons, were fierce fighting warriors,
Battle hardened women, whom lived by the basic instincts.
Of survival and honor.
Unbridled by the whims of society, no chains bondage,
Could restrain their desire to be free from mans law.
Liberation's winds moistened their lips, and inflated
The lungs of these warrior women.
Nomads raised on the theology, that man are inferior creatures,
To be used as beasts of burden, or at leisure’s pleasure, 
Nothing more. 
Skilled in the art of war, renowned for courage’s
Unyielding voracity, armored maidens of legend,
And for raw endurance’s strength of will.
Blow the golden horn of victory's challenge,
As the ancient archer thus thread's her bow,
In anticipation of the battle to begin. 
Drawn swords at the ready, do you not
Hear their ancestral cry to arms, take
No prisoners alive.
Shield maidens whom answer to know man,
But only the Gods themselves,
Behold they are the Amazons.
Shoulder to shoulder, and back to back,
Shields raised glistening in the sun.
The battle lines are drawn in history,
A fierce fighting force by all accounts
Renowned, to legacy's ancient passage,
For all women to be proud of generations
Forward to come, remember their battle hymn.
Freedom sisters, can you not taste it's
Flavor of liberation, carried on destiny's
Four winds, I'll raise my cup in tributes
Honor unto them, known as the Amazons.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN



 


 


 



Details | Free verse | |

THE FULL MOON BLOOMS

Tonight, the full moon blooms
And foils the looming gloom.
The remnant doom from noon
Has lost it's bullish tune.
And embraces dusk's eerie cool.


The village square it illuminates
Arena of moonlight tales of late
The little ones gather and wait
While the elderly engage in debates
And the goats noisily ruminates


The bright night, lights sparks
Of bliss and joy in trees' barks
The tall iroko whistle in parks
Where young lovers end their tracks
And skimpy skirts lose their tacks
 
 
The son of perdition frets unsure
The thief in the night fears exposure
The pirate sailor steers from ashore
The night fisherman denied action
For the kind light bathes the ocean


Tonight, the full moon beams proud
As the town crier makes his round
Belting forth a piercing sound.
While the town's chorus echoes loud
The stage is set for the yearning crowd


Details | Epic | |

The Darkness at Noon

     The Darkness at Noon

Tombstone never looked so good
With doomsday coming down 
On the dusty Arizona town
The OK Corral near by 
The Clanton-McLaury gang on hand
With no one else about
The Earp boys in the wings
Thinking things out
Doc Holliday also in tow for the show
The darkness at noon began 
Guns rang out
30 seconds flew by and 30 shots fired
2 cowpokes fell to the ground expired
Justice prevailed that afternoon
Though darkness shadowed the mood
A legend began that cold dark day 
When noon turned into night 
In old Tombstone
                                                                                                                   (Darkness at noon contest en


Details | Rhyme | |

Two's Magic Nose

Such a nose had Ol’ Blue.
Best in south Missouri... everybody knew.
Could smell a pheasant across the plain.
Could point a covey in a hurricane.
That’s the way the legend goes.
Ol’ Blue had a “magic nose.”
 
As Blue got older, his master’s mind would drift away
To a place where he and young Blue used to play. 
In the mornings, sitting over his coffee cup
He found it sad there were no pups.
He thought it would be such a shame
If the only memory was Ol’ Blue’s name.
 
So, Jim was compelled and full of pride;
He made a search, far and wide,
To find Ol’ Blue a suitable mate.
No doubt, his offspring would be great.
It seemed likely, he supposed,
At least one pup would have his “magic nose.”
 
She was a Champion Miss from New Orleans,
A beautiful “red” named Cajun Queen.
But Blue suddenly passed away, before the pups were born.
Jim was broken hearted.  He and “Queenie” mourned.
Then came the litter, but there was only one.
Jim struggled for hope; after all, he was Ol’ Blue’s son.
 
Dappled and lanky, a handsome little cuss,
He looked just like Blue.  Jim made such a fuss.
Naming this pup would require no ado.
It was obvious.  Officially, he would be “Blue Two.”
Oh yes, these were mighty large tracks to fill.
“Can he?”, folks asked.  Jim would say, “Heck yes he will!”

So his nickname became “Two” and he seemed to be smart.
Soon it was time for his training to start.
The basics went well, but Jim’s outlook grew very dim
When, instead of pointing, Two would wag and jump and bark at him.
Oh, Two seemed to be trying; but try as he might,
He just could not seem to ever get it right.

“Blue’s son or not, he’s got to go!”
Jim found Two a “pet home” far away, in Tupelo.
On his way back, he stopped in Texarkana.
Been too long a time since he’d seen his sister Hannah.
Six days and six pounds later, he was back on his way.
Work at the farm was callin’ and he’d be drivin’ all day.
 
He thought about Ol’ Blue and wondered if and when
He’d ever have a birddog as good as Blue again.
Oh, he knew another “magic nose” was just a far off dream;
After all, it wasn’t something any man could scheme.
A “magic nose” was a gift from God, only given to a few;
And he was proud and very lucky just to have known Ol’ Blue.
 
As he turned into his drive, he broke into a smile.
“Why… I can’t believe it!  It…It must be 300 miles!”
Two was on the porch, thin and dirty; but he struck a handsome pose.
Jim ran and hugged Two hard.  “How’d you get back?  Lord only knows!”
Suddenly Jim realized; and struck with awe, he slowly rose.
A tear trickled to his smile.  “Why Two… you have a “magic nose!”
 
Two and Jim are best of friends, together everywhere.
From milkin’ cows to bedtime, Two is always there.
Jim doesn’t hunt much anymore, now Two’s a rescue dog.
Just last month, he saved a little girl lost in Cooley’s Bog.
Jim struts and tells proud, heroic stories;
While Two wags and jumps and barks, and shares his glory.
 
Jim boasts, “Like father, like son!”, then speaks fondly of Blue;
But all know the largest tracks to fill are those of Two.
His deeds are known far and wide,
And fill Jim’s heart with love and pride.
For with every rescue, the legend grows;
About a dog named Two, and his “magic nose.”


Details | Prose Poetry | |

WOMAN

Day by day we pray to stay alive, ladies, the face of this world is slowly changing, no longer do we need to hold our heads in disgrace, and it’s about time we take our place. No longer let us be connived, nor let us forget the silent cries in trees that our sista’s souls are still hangin’, see the true in others denies rather waistin’ yourself complaining. Nor keep us from strength to stand by man, strength to leave if struck by hand, no more bruises upon our face for we also help to make this race. No more scars upon our souls for only marked with beauty moles and let our stories be fortold for we are women who behold, a key to inspiration and moral pride, coming out of our hide, Gods rules are to which one should only apply, but most chose pain to keep inside, left alone and died. Your elimination of God’s creation, we are but faith to this nation. Men of ignorance we are sick of belligerence, cuz we prove intelligence, cuz where there’s no woman there is no man strong and on this land we belong as distinct and separate persons walk along. Before your ignorance get the respect that you so vainly seek, practice what you claim til' all things you do or speak shall in reality be the same, nor let us be so eased to blame and give us our well earned past due fame, all musical and sorrowful stories contained. My people, make me proud to know your name and I’ll return the favour by doing the same.
For all men whom think us fast, remember the good ones always finish last, we women are still raped future and past so personally you can kiss my ... In us your babies wombs all your life fluids we consume, to mothers growing up too soon, to those mommas babies and daddy’s maybes.....REMEMBER, when your round to actin' shady, we are the ladies of this land, women with pride we stand, I am a WOMAN and for equal respect, I would do it again!!!


Details | Sonnet | |

Honor Befalls Me

A squad of cavalries turns up at first
their flag flutters at every angle
proud and their poor fate stubbornly reversed
the youngest one of them blows the bugle

Next, day strips itself of night, boisterous
the survivors step over the fallen
to the summit, wounded but victorious
the bravest one sags all of a sudden

That happens and will do, when justice is sliced
it was worth it and it will since God pleads
It's a cause for which our lives are sacrificed
as blooded swords are put back into sheaths

Honor befalls me, who made it public
in a lonely sonnet, epic and lyric


Details | Free verse | |

Blantantly Obvious Subliminal Messages

Fate or coincidence as if we have a choice constantly at odd with those who share a difference in their voice as if we could change the world so pretentious for us to concieve as if only a single soul still in me would believe Fake or conciousness a notion to betrothed as if you betterment was for me to love and loathe everything in place the explanation was there was a grand design for that or just a repetition of certain circumstances and leave no chance to reason Break the code or break the mode broken cycles, growing old fading voices go being unknown but my choice is mine alone take the hand of a higher power or take a thermo nuclear shower submit or be done with tossed out like the waste just a tiny hint of power leaves a certain taste corruption is only almost certain free will still relates to the points so poignant they are pinpointed mistakes not yet made Premeditated, so there goes destiny as if a higher power has the power to contain me as if a higher consious is out there for me to have thats the only certainty I know almost for sure why I push back the unknown is out there driving all so called life for you so call everything must come easy for you like butter to the knife and you wonder why your drowning and cannot break the surface look deep inside your mirror into the fate you may be worthless, coincidentally


Details | Epic | |

The Centurion

He hated his posting here;
Rome had sent him here as punishment;
He was sure of that;
These people were a stubborn lot; 
He hated them most of all;
Then he met the prisoner.
He was supposed to be some kind of king.

Pilate had interviewed this man;
Now the other guards were mocking him;
They fashioned a crown of thorns for His head;
They forced it upon him;
Blood came pouring down;
Yet the king didn't utter a sound.

The guards stripped the king;
They placed on him a purple robe;
The mockery was intense;
Yet this king was different in some way;
He didn't utter a sound.

Then they began to beat the king;
The centurion simply watched;
This was no ordinary man;
The man simply offered them his back;
Then the centurion heard the man pray;
The man was forgiving his captors!

Pilate had ordered the man to be crucified;
So they led the figure out;
He was now beaten and battered;
Could He even carry the cross;
The centurion wished it was all over;
This prisoner didn't deserve any of this.

The centurion made another man carry the cross;
Soon they topped the hill;
Here they stripped the prisoner;
They laid Him on the cross;
As they drove the nails;
The centurion heard Him pray;
He was forgiving them for killing Him!

The centurion had heard of this prisoner;
He now remembered Him well;
The prisoner claimed to be the Son of God;
He had performed many miracles;
The centurion wished to see one now;
He wished the man would come down from the cross!

The sky around them began to darken;
The centurion watched the man on the cross;
The man looked at the centurion;
"I love you and forgive you",  written in His eyes;
The centurion's heart was breaking inside;
The man on the cross breathed His last.

The earth rattled as an earthquake struck;
Tombs opened and dead men walked;
The centurion was oblivious to it all;
He seen only the dead man on the cross;
His knew now within his heart;
He had crucified the Son of God.


Details | Lyric | |

Man with sorrow

A risky side
A twisted mind 
He's a man with sorrow 
He's a man on his own
I know your secrets
I see you losing control

I want you back
Oh I want you back home
*Chorus*:
To kill your sore
To purify your soul 
But not a glimmer of hope
And not a glimmer of joy
 

You walk with a frozen heart
Making it hard for me 
To leave you alone 
 
Your nonsensical twist
Makes me shiver inside 
 
The more mysterious he gets
The more attractive it gets 
 
Chorus:
But not a glimmer of hope
Not a glimmer of joy 
(2x) 
 
Your fatal deadly thoughts
Make me scream for more
 
I can never show, how much my love
For you was strong 
But you're the one I blame
 
I'm craving on saving you
So I can slay you on my own
 
I try to forget,
But I find myself with regrets 
 
You looked at me and said it straight
With no circles to spin
Baby turning the page,
Will lead us nowhere...
 
But not a glimmer of hope 
Nor a glimmer of joy 
I know your secrets 
I see losing control 
You're the one I blame
You're the one I crave.

**please feel free to correct and comment! :) ** MS-


Details | Ballad | |

Souless Society

Yeah Im living in a souless society, 
My people keep doing each other wrong so much its hard to get right with me, 
Its so dark with alcoholic violence that I can no longer see the light in me, 
Survival of the fittest I am no longer because there remains almost no fight in me,
 I struggle with death around one in all forms of variety, 
I am so low at times that there can be no one high as me, 
A lot of non-sense for my body I keep buying me, 
at the same time my own people keep fighting me, 
but its time I just say "**** it" 
and kick all that *****to the curve away in the bucket, 
I hate the truth so much that I start to love it, 
Creating a mind full of knowledge gold, a mind full of many nuggets, 
Now its time I face my own truth even if my own people lie to me, 
I can and I will overcome this souless price that seems too pricey, 
**** all that bull-*****I will rise out my own souless society


Details | Epic | |

REOPENING A HERO S SONGBOOK

In his songbook,
are raving songs of beauty,
which thrushes around the phrases of my mind

and embroiders my soul on an errand 
into a white night of a white Christmas, 
in a white dreamland, 
and having sleepless dreams, 
and numerous pictures, 
which I can’t clearly depict

but I could reminder an auction, 
where flood, was sold at a discount
and breath, to the tallest bidder

Therein in, 
my late hero brother, 
cheerfully sang from his hero’s songbook 

and I astonishingly sang along 
with a bright smile and cry,
craving for a new hug,
but we could not hug nor shake hands

And he palely said to me,
I am back to stay,
never to leave

But I woke up, to notice it was a white lie,

Why so, my hero brother?

I try to anger in white lightning, 
but I notice that my anger is colourless
and my sweat is adourless 
 
I also try to use white magical feelings to give him a hug or bring him back, 
but I could not,
because I am not a professional white witch, 
 
My emotions has been white washed,
and I feel like white trash,
because my hero brother has been trash away from me, 
by death 

I feel like giving up my white ghost, 
like a prostituted white slave, 

by drinking up a full tank of white spirit liquid, 
so I could be on his ream

But my hero brother begged me not to

He consoled me by saying; 
that no matter how transparently apart we where,
his soul will never stop blowing the whistle of joy 
or flash a white flag in surrender to death 

Because his music will never end, nor will his whistle blend, 
because the only thing he has freely given to death is a white feather of shame

This filled me will plenty white hope,

I will sob no more!
Because I now know that my hero late brother is a white knight

I will wait for him, in this unlabeled white land
till we meet and share hugs again


Details | Epic | |

Mr wiggles the stuffed punk pig

Mr. Wiggles the stuffed “punk pig” , he wasn’t always this way. Before the safety pins in his little nose and “Dead Kennedy’s” patch on his soft, fuzzy, pink back, he was a loving, clean, attractive piggy who was afraid of the dark. He sewed black and red string into his adorable little ear because he thought it would make him look like a rebel pig, then he got experimental with sharpie, permanently drawing stitches on his non-existing lips all because of the music he flooded into his head. Then after the piercings, he got into tattoos. He has a black and red “C” on his chest and a black dotted “C”  with a little black heart on his hip. It’s pretty sexy huh? He got it for someone but that someone loved another.  He has big, child like  eyes that can mesmerize you. They aren’t blue or green or even brown, They are black eyes that just stare deeply into you. He is also very small, not like the other kids. He used to get beat up when he was a little piglet, Maybe that’s why he tries to be all tough now. He’s a bubble gum pink, maybe that was a factor in him getting beat up by all the other farm animals so much. He had low self esteem and a eating disorder, that's why he is so skinny for a grown man piggy. He hated the way he looked, he was ashamed for being born a pig because they have such bad reputations of being dirty, sloppy, and lazy. He didn't like his feet most of all because they were ugly and gross, pig feet are the definition of this but his are abnormal they were disfigured and very, very pink, not like the other animals with smooth hooves or webbed feets. His are piggies feet that no one will end up ever eating. They look like something Ariel would collect under the sea. Mr. Wiggles wasn’t always a bad piggy, under his thick, fuzzy skin he is soft and plushy pig. One thing that never changed is that he loves affection such as hugs, they are comforting and secure. He smells like a warm breeze and something sugary. He may act tough but there is much, much more then meets the eye.


Details | I do not know? | |

For Bruce Springsteen

for bruce springsteen...


it was a rain-swept monsoon day

way back then, so many moons away

when i felt the music strumming in my veins

setting me free like a runaway horse without any reins

you sang of simple truths, 

your verse spoke to people just like me

in my lonely, wasted, and desolately quiet night

as you screamed out tragic human wrongs, and of everyone's plight

'bobby jean' spoke to me

of that girl down the street

glimpses of whom, we as innocents would furtively meet

and 'the river' that flowed through my ever-barren heart

led me down further roads of thunder

when slowly i finally learnt that the hardest part was fighting on

and never to surrender

to the hard-luck dreams that were born to run

while i danced in the dark 

with memories vivid and stark

even as i whined like that dog who for forever lost his howling bark

and then a 'human touch' came along

and 'better days' seemed real, not just words in a song

and still you sang and swayed and spoke straight into my unseeing eyes

as gardens of secrets were opened, and as your fist punched the skies

in an anger that i too felt and in whose cauldron i too burned

as we saw murder get incorporated, while on its wobbly axis, our fragile world apathetically turned

and then suddenly i was told that i was all grown up

working on a highway of scattered ideals

and absolving myself by sprinkling some coins in a waiting cup

well, after all these years of walking along so many a thorny road

with an armour of your verse covering me, even as i hear them taunt me and even as they continue to goad

but now i can feel myself fading away, into the bleakness of this coming night

just like the ghost of that old tom joad...


Details | Free verse | |

The Road

Suspended in perpetual animation
There is a light at the end of the tunnel
From hours of travel though inches gained
Spewed forth from the bowels of existence I stand
Before me lies the road

Like a pond turned solid by Winters touch
The road is wide, flat, smooth
No encumbrances to impede the journey
Cautious at first, testing the consistency of life
The trek of life begins on the road

It is not so bright anymore
Feet shuffle along in a redundant pattern
Knees skinned and bruised
Rocks, underbrush, thorns and ruts
These are the things that now fill the road

Alas, a fork and a place to rest
Up to now the choices where clear
Through mired with pitfalls the ground was flat
No twists, no turns no looking back
Things are to change depending on the road

Left or right, the choice seems easy
The right is blessed by being clear
The left appears to be less traveled
Skulls, cross bones and signs beware
Love and pain are to gain on the road

I have been meant to suffer
Life and family has taught me that
The left road I must take
The pain of absence of love already aches
Perhaps life shall end on this fragment of the road

The hand of God has made passage impossible
Wind, rain, sleet and hail
Tear are my flesh and blur my eyes
Bloodied and raw fingers grasp into the unforgiving Earth
Clawing my way up the grade that is now the road


Shrouded in disappointment and failure
I succumb to life’s journey
It is simply too hard without family and love
Face down the struggle ends
I release my grasp and begin the last leg of the road

Where is the bottom? Why have I not hit?
I quit, I have no more to give
Yet suspended like where it all began
What forces dare to interfere with the plan
For what reason to I remain on the road

It is not I that continues the struggle
Through slits of clarity wiped clear from tears
The vision comes into focus
There is one who feels I am worth the effort
It is my brother who holds me on the road

You are not a brother, blood of blood
Nay, you are a brother by choice
A man through unconditional love and conviction
Has purged the darkness, sorrow and despair
Saving my life and my soul, I am still here on the road

I have no tangible means of payment
Gifts and idle trinkets could never tender the amount I owe
The love I have and the embraces of family
It is what was given to me because I went left
The wounds healed and voids filled because of the road

Today the day is bright
Warmth surpassed only by the glow of love
Shoulder to shoulder and heart to heart
Life is worth living and good again
Because of our travels down the roa


Details | Light Poetry | |

The road my father paves


Remember seeing my father coming
Home from work on his bicycle
And it was a cold and rainy day
And he was soaking from the drizzle

And I can tell he was getting sick
But he would never once complain
And he would have fever to his bones
And get dress and go back to work again

My father was strong as a mountain
But with a heart soft as a baby cries
And he would live his whole life
Like that until that sad day that he dies

He was a man of very few words
And all his words was full of wisdom
My father never smoke in his life
Or drink alcohol or ever taste rum

My father always led by example
And he was a respected man
And though none of us could be like him
But we will always try the best we can

My father had the biggest heart
Caring for everyone so sincerely
He never close his eyes to those in need
He would give his last unselfishly

So many good things he has done
For all the times he was here
And we all know deep down inside
Now much he really truly care

I wish I had told him more
How much I admired him so
And for the rest of my life he will
Always be the one I look to as my hero

Father even though we might not have say it
We appreciated all that you do
And we have been so truly bless
To have had a father like you

Today on February 6 th
Makes it nine years he past away
And the pain of missing him
Feels like it was just yesterday

We know you are looking at us
From heaven above the sky so blue
And every day of our life’s
Our foot steps will always follow you

Though you have past and gone
Your legacy is for ever engrave
For the future generations to walk
On the righteous road that you pave


Details | Free verse | |

Tears of My Heart

if poop could be named anything what would you name it?  id name it bob and id make him sit on a log in a bog and say get out of here you hog that looks like fog from a bog thats near a log with bob sitting on it who attacked the wacking wackers with all his heart and shattered, he fell to the floor.  dont name your poop bob because then youll have tears in your heart.


Details | Rhyme | |

What The Screamer Saw: Inspired by Edvard Munch

O Lord! O Life!
I scream at the sight---
The cathedral is burning,
A bright star in the night!
The cathedral is burning!
I can see from afar
The cathedral is burning
As bright as a star!
 
O Mercy! O Fate!
And as if from Hell's Gate
The gargoyles go flying
At a maddening rate!
The gargoyles go flying
While smoke billows round!
The gargoyles go flying
And again my scream sounds!
 
O Heaven! O Fear!
I can feel the heat here!
The fires are spreading!
Such chaos and tears!
The fires are spreading
And covering all!
The fires are spreading!
The city will fall!
 
O Goodness! O My!
The gargoyles streak by!
The cathedral is burning
and smoke mars the sky!
The cathedral is burning 
Just over the ridge!
The cathedral is burning
As I stand on the bridge!


Details | Free verse | |

Moulting - for you

the next is like the first
equally shedding more skin
you do that again and again 
and I known each time 
you look at me 
we are transformed

and so we take each step
each page is torn away
a day, a week, a month
eternity in our eyes

this time with you 
like a wave that never breaks
a swell in the heart of the ocean

where the two race, play, swim

we are
the ones we see

in the next moment the sun rolls by
you lighten up the room
again a mirror 

to the little pools of mystery 
spilling out around you
giving up the secret

moulting in the broad day light


Details | Free verse | |

Tribute to David Jones wrote about war and religion

Tribute to David Michael Jones. 1895 - 1974.
A British poet, painter and engraver


Was a lad of 20, left art college to join the RWF*
"In parenthesis "was his write
A poem describing horrors
Of being a front line soldier, to fight
In the world war 1  battle on the western front
An event  he described as epic 
and imbued with religious, moral  and mythic
overtones where Divine Grace manifested a continual presence

T.S.Elliot called his work "a work of genius"

badly wounded in Mametz Wood  his life they did fear

In 1921 he converted to Catholicsm, going to Eric Gills
Community in Ditching Uk where he honed his 
carpentry and engraving skills


When Stravinsky came to UK For the last time , 
was solely a pilgrimage to visit David Jones
David died in 1974
Some of his paintings are in the Tate.
His work is mostly forgotten
Was deeply Catholic, writing
The Sleeping Lord and Other Fragments.
Classed amongst the most important poems of the 20th century

*RWF.  Stands for  Royal Welch Fusiliers, they wear a feather in their cap    
  badge.  


Read notes please.


Details | Rhyme | |

AFRICAN DANCE

Drink at the table of men the wine
Tapped from the palm tree so divine
Release the ashimu inside of you
Let your body vibrate to the secret rhythm of Odu
Egu the gallant one in the land
Vibrating furiously yet lovely as the white sand
Move by the sea shore in gait
Hip twisting and acting like a hunters bait
The wind acknowledges his movement
For a pattern of life it represents at that moment

Let the owl blow his sacred trumpet
That shakens the heart and weakens the knee like a trinket
Let the forest come alive in the dead night
The animals’ eyes guiding them like a torchlight
Fire is come from beneath the earth
Illuminating the trees and casting shadows like death
The feeble in mind is left at home
For to go you must contain only bone

Hear the sound of the drums
The gay shouts of the flute in forms
The backing of the kacha-kacha
The wonderful melody of the skirt of rafter
Idu the greatest paces up and down
His muscle twitching upsetting his flowing gown
His toes digging the sands ready to pounce
Pounce he did but in a bounce 

The spirits are ascended from the bowels
The ryhtm have increased in tempo
The shaking of sweaty skins has created wells
Ground dug with foot but like a hoe
Omachile the great surpasses all
His steps gazelle like and his shoulder tall
The earth bows to his frame
And yes…. He lives with the fame


Details | Free verse | |

We'll Change The World

Consequences, consequences punishments and lost friendships even with they seem so endless they're gone before the dawn Then when the dawn is here again we are revived, new life begin and the sin was washed away don't have to pray when he talks to me Your weakness makes us stronger, longer if we are quiet, we're quite somber slipping slowly into the water excuses are what hold us under We hold ourselves there until we're ready to take hold of the wheel with enough direction to have control we all can get there, but who ever knows until hope and fear are recognized we'll change the world, not afraid to try.


Details | Free verse | |

Keep The Light In Sight

If I do, I hope that I Exit in the presence of Jesus Christ we go far back do he and I for his greater mercy once saved my life Five long lost years have past since then I gave my all so he forgave my sins a weary soul, crucified I hope he's holding me the day I die I tried my damndest to find the light and when I found it kept it in sight it's never left me I know I'm right come try and take it I'll end your night I look up fondly to the sky an understanding between he and I one time I asked him lend me his eyes and I saw a world left cold and dry In conversation we talk, no words he understands me when I'm most unheard think I'm absurd what are you? a higher being? still much confused You think the answer lies in your ways I think the Devil must be repaid he'll collect heavy your wasted time as you spend eternity at his side I see a servant for wickedness try to distract me one more dismissed I keep on walking through the night as I keep his spirit so well alive I wear your pride inside my skin as you race to the finish I just begin to be a soldier alone with the night nothing to warm me but his light in sight.


Details | Free verse | |

The Phantom of the Opera

If I were Christine,
I would have chosen The Phantom
His genius, unique beyond comparison
His voice-indescribable
When he sings
It sends chills down my spine
And I close my eyes
And let the magic of his music carry me far away
I would like to believe
That he would have been a great person to know
Had he been a little more friendly
I would like to believe
That he would have given the world such beauty
If given the chance
But even at a young age
He was tortured and tormented
And never once
Given his opportunity to shine
But in my heart
He will always be
Shining brightly
And inspiring the music that grows in me


Details | Tanka | |

Ye Stay On Track

As the earth swings back
Brothers I say stay on track
Follow Master’s Plan
Sisters don’t let man change you
For they all should worship you


Details | Free verse | |

How Poetry Began

             How Poetry Began

There was no explosion in the voided void
No weight to metal or components foreign formed
Science and religion married off their children
Philosophy and rhyme were named
They were circular at first and they too gave birth
To reason and jungles minding their own business
Triangles triangulated, circulated in an ink filled well
Pulled up like the dark ooze and tar 
That once was dinosaur remains
Set upon the quill or filled the pen of mighty men
To dot humanity with a verse
It was suggested, the first delicate words arrived
In gold parlors lined in silk, over saffron tea
Reading leaves to young maidens who, surprised
Touched by lovers on the bosom from behind
In actuality 
Poetry began inside a cave right over there
That’s it!  Just on the cliff outside the cave
Just past the very next thought
Sitting side by side on this once empty page
Of memory and age, hanging on the edge
Passion, rage, love and silver birds
Got their start out there as well


Created on 9/12/14 for How Poetry Began- Poetry Contest


Details | Free verse | |

SWEET N' SOUR

SWEET N' SOUR EQUALS,
COTTON CANDY/LEMON HEADS
SUCH A BITTER SWEET SYMPHONY.


THIS COLD PLAY HEART, HAS
SEEN IT ALL; CHASING CARS
N' A YELLOW SUMERIAN UNDER
PRESSURE I WON' T FORGET YOU.


SP ("FAM") TO THE END!!! With A little sweet n' sour!!!!!!

Written By: 
Sweet N' SOUR=CARMA

06-23-12


Tribute to all soup FAM!!!


Details | I do not know? | |

Purchased and payed for

It still awes me everyday
how You loved me anyway,
even showed me constant grace
when I strayed and turned from you my face.
You kept watching over me
even spared my very breath
show mercy that would not relent,
or allow the sting of death
to remain a wall between us,
breaking down its very hold.
Turned my heart of stone to flesh,
rekindled a flame turned cold.

You reminded me forgiveness
was given before I asked
so all doubt is vanity,
now I put my faith to task
knowing I am free indeed,
Jesus Christ has purchased me
Always standing at the door
with new life to embrace me.

Not to me alone, but ALL
You have granted such a chance
to sit and to feast with You,
to rejoice in sing and dance
for the victory is ours
those who call You shall be saved!
No longer enslaved to darkness
Jesus has overcome the grave!


Details | Free verse | |

Collaborating in the clouds- Gods Hold

If Gods favorite hero suddenly became cold,
   Lonely, disoriented, unhappy with sorrows untold,
   Would it be of interest in Heaven? Concerns of man,
   Would our saviors come to Earth to be born again?

God would send out his best hands to hold,
   Would he set backwards time to where all heroes spirits were sold.

If only our love could behold
   Lined with twine of silver wrapped in gold
   Gifts to to God to wash our sin
   Equipped pillars stories told

Thoughts about God mirrors my pen


Details | Rhyme | |

TEMPEST MUSE

inspiration from the best,
genuine from the first guess.
admiration with no doubt,
treasure that can't be robbed.
moves the imagination,
signs of sophistications.
kept hidden until perfect,
so many are affected.
so hard to grasp,
a vision that forever lasts.
escapes all logic,
bound by a never ending artistic touch of excitement!


Details | Enclosed Rhyme | |

Learning Cant Go Back

Every second that I search in this dark cave
Come with me my friend your freedom awaits
Fore I take you to the gate, nay it be ye never to late
Never shall ye again be thee enemies slave

If ye fear than stand thee behind
In my left hand I wield His shield
And my right will make the enemy yield
I go back now to free all mankind

No longer shall I leave them blind
Ending this sifting in the darkness
Death to what once was inertness
It is I Jesus Christ who has aligned