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Best Harry Horsman Poems

Below are the all-time best Harry Horsman poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Details | Harry Horsman Poem

THE OLD OAK TREE


         Oh I am but a simple leaf
         withering within the gutter
         one summer of bliss
         now! Just an autumn flutter.

                   For some; destine to fall
                   upon stony ground, a part
                   of life’s infernal gyration.
                   Yet for those that fall
                   within your reach, to live
                   on within your soul!

         While limbs that stretch
         towards the solstice, create
         vivacious veins as channels of hope,
         a pledge of foliation continues
         to endure what spring has
         furnished; autumn expires. 

                   Yes! If we can but learn
                   from nature’s complex simplicity,
                   that life be of a cycle
                   from the seed we are conceived,
                   then let spring be my beginning
                   winter my exultant eve!

         Let our two cultures
         merge as one, the
         decomposed humus
         to become the sustenance;
         our transfusion the
         new beginning.

                   Let us breathe the
                   fragrance of born again;
                   let each slender limb,
                   stout body bear our
                   tenaciousness, each lyrical
                   leaf our life’s blood.

          Let us mollycoddle each
          precious tear that falls from a
          angry sky; dance gracefully
          upon the wind, embrace
          on moonless nights, bathe
           in summer madness.

                   Let us hear the bluebell call,
                   the daffodil pray, the apple
                   blossom bear witness; the
                   clamour of the field mouse
                   the pitapat of the butterfly
                   the silence of lovers in love.

             Let us be sanctuary to the
             symbolic songstress, scuttling
             squirrel, vulgar urchin;
             a fortress for the warrior
             a haven for the pacifist
             an inspiration for the poet!

 EPILOGUE 

                  The call of springtime
                   we will invoke,
                     logging representative
                      we will gladly choke;
                        nature’s guardian.
                          “This! Obliging old oak.”


        

         








Details | Harry Horsman Poem

Sunlight

Sometimes I believe you
to be a vision, fading,
only a reflection of the
warmth I used to feel.
Today my memory of you
locked away within a
clenched mind, like grains
of sand perpetually
slipping through the cleft
of time. A memory scattered
along the highway of
despondent souls, soon
to be washed away by
the rising tide of oblivion!


Details | Harry Horsman Poem

Phobia

No flame within! 
      do I hold for you
no delightful delicacy
      shall I put to rhyme.

No picturesque words
      in italics of your
woeful wildlife, no
      acknowledgement of
the ancient mariner, he
      that crossed the margin
of our “Atlas of the world.”

     (Still in use, [I believe] in the
old stone museum.)
     
     One can easily live in fear
of your many mordant moods,
     to see you capture the
embracing horizon, where warring
     clouds fondle the sunlight,
and the departing QE 2 is
     reduced to microcosm.

How can one live in awe of
      you, when at the end of each
day you snatch at the light of
    sustenance, therefore
giving license to the veil
    of damnation, soon to be cast
out of the east, driving impending
    fears to languish upon the
unholy waters of the Styx?

 (An extraction of the mind,
an evaporation of the memory
     the spray dried brain
tossed into oblivion.)

   Yet each morning an
interval to one’s ongoing
   nightmare, when with renewed
levitation, the new light reprieved!
   Begins avidly it’s universal
journey across Manukau’s
   “Pack ‘n’ Save” Car park.

Oh yes! It is so easy to hate you;
      you that brought the rest of
the world here, you that constitutes
    a world within a world, that,
where the cycle of life creates it’s
     own constitution, each player
judged on cue, to become an act of
   fodder, mobile supermarkets
in ferocious competition with
    nothing at all to give.

“Unless death itself is a gift!”

    Upon the surface your
treachery still lingers, there,
    tenacious tentacles lurk
within the sedulous surf,
    groping blindly at sedated
rocks, those pinnacles of sanctuary
    that harbour the weary,
support the rod.

   Only when gravitation truly
intervenes, does the perpetual
   invasion subside, leaving one in
no doubt about your promiscuity!

         © Harry J Horsman   

















Details | Harry Horsman Poem

LONG DISTANT DREAM

I meander through verdant valley
where meadows collide in windswept jade,
hillsides bathe in summer sunshine
and oceans of clouds, commit to shade.

Moorland sheep laze in woolly clusters
creating footpaths upon the hill,
busy hedgerow a rural city
scar of an era, is town head mill.

Vibrant coppice alive with creatures
leafy towers caress morning mist,
sunlight shines on distant window
across the valley, a sapphire twist.

Crag and beacon rise majestic
standing stone a monument to thrall,
sculptured by marauding seasons
an ancient culture’s, rocky stall.

Yet to chance upon misty patterns
softly sketched upon the hill,
I will savour these happy moments
awakening to, a distant trill.


Wharfedale, Yorkshire England

For Dr Ram's contest My best poem 2012
placed 1st in Matt Caliri's contest anything 19 0f jan 2012


Details | Harry Horsman Poem

Oh them hot air balloons

SOCIETY AND THE HOT AIR BALLOON

Them that need to climb
ride as the hot air balloon--
soon come down to earth


THE VIRTUAL HOT AIR BALLOON

Ride with the rainbow--
silent as the mouse cursor
across Google earth 


For SKAT hot air balloon contest.
    


Details | Harry Horsman Poem

Re- Awakening

A lone candle light in the abyss of darkness 
Yet words are woven in creations of your smile, 
The sweetest words are those not said intense timeless 
When in your embrace one melts to your unique style. 

Your flame renewed kindle in sweet resurrection 
Emerald eyes that glow in lust of perfection, 
Can but dowse puritan thoughts with insurrection 
Rebellion is kindled in this new affection 

Fires of passion the candle lit the abyss 
To burn forever more in the flame of true love 
To melt in your arms with the promise of a kiss 
The iron hand now firmly in the velvet glove 

Love like this has never before been given birth 
My life my love this is your awakened loving worth 

Copyright
Harry J Horsman & Mandy M Tams 2013



Details | Harry Horsman Poem

Scars Left Behind

Remembering the days of yesteryear
when family ties were held most dear,
gas lamps flickered in the back street
while most of us danced a different beat.
Tragic alleyways of smog and smut
“Live over the brush”* branded a slut,
silhouettes in fringe the darkest night
gullible back shift broke the morning light.
Adventurous nights at “Townhead Mill”
eight pints of beer the back porch thrill,
when no meant yes in rapturous skill
to fumigated music from “Nashville.”
Obnoxious libertine this bread man
bay curtain drawn delivery van,
the situation conspired indiscretion
clinical the world’s oldest profession.
Sporting gentlemen in summer bliss
caught first ball costly night on the piss,
pavilion home to moorside drover
many a chaste maiden bowled over.
Partial pilgrimage down “Bolton Road”
black and amber heroes round ball code,
liniment buoyant throughout the room
manly skills embroider the village groom.
Cardinal days steeped in “Rock ‘n’ Roll”
sire in fear of them out of control,
a colossal wedge between cultures
in shadows of decency vile vultures.
Repetitious days of school yard might
the bullies reduced one’s life to plight,
parents queried yet misunderstood
reasons for mayhem in the neighbourhood.
Lad and lasses lost in “Hide and seek”
games of “Stroke a back” every week,
by the old school grounds we all did laik**
now the street is naked for heaven sake.
Why on earth would a mind keep drifting back
this poetry constantly placing me on track,
when life was a role without fame or stars
only toil and trepidation and these scars?

© Harry J Horsman 2013   

*Living in sin
** Play


Details | Harry Horsman Poem

Rainbow Ride

A sky bridge
of reflective rain drops...
Crows glide under.


Details | Harry Horsman Poem

Moon Dance

Once upon a time so brightly
I had this compulsion to dance
Just holding you oh so tightly;
In thoughts of romantic perchance
Realistic dreams of nuance.
Your silver beam of love the lure
Bathed in splendour ever so pure
In breath upon the breeze clement;
Held here within your light the cure
I thank the lord for this moment.

by harry horsman
for nette onclaud 'let's dance' contest


Details | Harry Horsman Poem

Cockcrow

The moor side broadcast,perpetually
amid airwaves of delirium,
aria that reverberates, from crag to scar
beacon to abbey century to century,
Everyday truth in simplicity
to ignite the human race!


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