Best Aden Poems
No Niihau friend
To see forbidden Aden
Where the time stands still
=======================
Fourth Placement
Contest: Tropical Treasures
Categories:
aden, nature,
Form:
Haiku
>I have been married now for forty-nine years, it will be fifty next year In 2017. I have no regrets. But there was once, what I thought was a first love. We were too young to know of course.
Run from love
I liked running when I was young.
Had an Alsatian dog, that was fun.
We both ran alongside a horse and rider as well.
Were you the one we ran with, can you tell?
I joined the army, then I did do.
Once, was just about to propose to you.
But then you broke my dream in two.
Said a soldier’s life was not for you.
I stayed my question right just there.
That question ceased, at you I stared.
A love light was quenched just then
I should have pursued you still again.
Or even left the army then.
But you quelled the love from me.
Extinguish it oh so quickly.
You still did wed a soldier true.
Why could you not, have wed me too?
A love light was killed that day.
I have just added the following to bring a soldiers tale to an ending.
A few years later God was kind to me.
As another chance, He gave you see.
Another chance of love to me.
I just hope you are happy now.
As me.
I wrote this poem on a scrap of paper in the 60s. I was stationed in the mountains of Aden at the time. How it survived so long I do not know. The paper was thin and the writing faded. I just managed to rewrite it. funny really, as as I started to write the words flowed as I was writing it for the first time. I checked my words against the original and it was word perfect. Fortunately the original must have liked what I did because it just crumbled away as I tried to pick it up again. Its duty done I expect. Although wrote as a poem story. It was the truth at the time. I found the poem in some old papers of mine I was tidying and throwing away. Funny the things we keep. Stanley (The mad Author)<
Categories:
aden, dog, dream, first love,
Form:
Romanticism
Somali Pirates prowl the Gulf of Aden
For merchant vessels with cargo laden
From the tenement rows of Puntland
Poor fishermen, ex-militia turned brigand
Now pledge fealty to the lucrative capitalist brand
Which polluted their waters and denuded their coast land
Fitted mercenaries scout the narrow strand
Booty and hostages from itinerant ships to remand
From mother ship, crafty navigators plot vessels' course
In speedy skiffs, armed with guile and every pliable resource
Stealthily stalk their prey gratuitous demands to enforce
Their mantra greed; ransom and loot their tour de force
Battering ram of rocket, grenade; calm hands from cargo to divorce
With hooks, ladder springing aboard, subduing crew with little discourse
Pilfering their bounty; enslaving the crew without remorse
Categories:
aden, adventure,
Form:
Rhyme
A HAUNTED FISHER
A hawk - sighted and decided young fisher;
Traps skillfully, fishes for his wisher;
Waving and sliding water - hills over;
With howls of 'hurray', grows ever.
Now a wisher, decrees vessels;
And fishes millions of dreams and pearls;
Blunts swords of sun and might of whirls;
The spheres of storms and lightening, hurls.
A god of holdings turns all to gold;
Life to moving circular fold;
Time to scarce diamonds mould;
And occasions to sudden perches for hold.
Possess a paradise with Hedden;
Breaks brutally into the forbidden;
Inflows and outflows hidden;
Landslides and gullies end Aden.
Fast after flying dreams, unheard, till;
Fast typhoon tosses, waves, spill;
Quacks and wrecks whiflashing castle, fill;
Wakes of the storms died and waters calm still.
Now where is the floating tower?
Flying dreams and manifold power;
Where is the longed Hedden and Aden’s lover?
Isn't the ocean calm blue and tempting ever???
JOSE PUDUSSERY
Categories:
aden, adventure, allegory, death, depression,
Form:
Enclosed Rhyme
On the street between the impeachment
and castle a divine release was being
enacted engaging the durable peace in seething winter.
A somber black cloud of smoke was
slowly reclaiming the sun.
A disgraced militant was pounding his chest
for not killing priceless bees
who were initializing the flowers of Aden. The
death was laid out in a row before the child
was born. Dead prophets were watching from the eyes of dolls.
SATISH VERMA
Categories:
aden, art,
Form:
ABC
A Man from Sweden
There was a man from Sweden,
Who married a Yemeni maiden,
He had to wear the futah,
And daily eat the Saltah,
So he could lead a happy life in Aden.
Categories:
aden, marriage, men,
Form:
Limerick
Our two youngest grandchildren visited yesterday…Aden is 18 and Ava turns 16 in September…we opened a time capsule made 12 years ago and took time to remember.
I sat there for a moment thinking about time and how fast her river flows…as we tried to remember what we were doing a decade plus two years ago.
And I thought about my dad and words I often heard spoken from his tongue…
words I swore growing up I’d never say…four words…when I was young.
Making these kind of promises, I imagine, is something we all do when we’re young, innocent and carefree, until, one day, perhaps with our children or grandchildren we listen to ourself and think…Oh no! It’s happened to me.
We try not to show how much our pride and our ego have been bruised…as we find ourself using words and phrases our father…and grandfather…used.
When I was young, we tell our children, people were kinder…the world was not as hard…neighbors gathered and had fun together…there wasn’t a fence in every backyard.
When I was young we drove old cars…we didn’t have all these outrageous prices…
When I was young we played outside…we had no hand-held devices.
When I was young we respected our elders…and our hair was neatly combed…
When I was young if we got in trouble in school…we got in trouble at home.
Could it be as we climb the ladder of life…with changes at ever rung…
we’re just trying to hold on to a piece of our past…to a time when we were young?
Could it be we want our children and grandchildren to know they are lucky…they are blessed…for all the world has set before them…for all that they possess?
Perhaps as I’m echoing words my grandfather and father once, long ago, said to me…I’m continuing a custom…a tradition…handed down from family to family.
That’s probably why I sat there smiling…
thinking how far back life’s pendulum has swung…
listening as my grandchildren remembered…
and wondering if they’ll use the same words my father used
to tell their children…about a time…when they were young.
Categories:
aden, wisdom,
Form:
Rhyme
On the street between the impeachment
and castle a divine release was being
enacted engaging the durable peace in seething winter.
A somber black cloud of smoke was
slowly reclaiming the sun.
A disgraced militant was pounding his chest
for not killing priceless bees
who were initializing the flowers of Aden. The
death was laid out in a row before the child
was born. Dead prophets were watching from the eyes of dolls.
SATISH VERMA
Categories:
aden, art
Form:
There once was a lusty bar-maiden
Born in the Republic of Aden --
You'd order your drink
She'd give you a wink --
She hoped for a kiss on the trade-in
Categories:
aden, drink, kiss,
Form:
Limerick
It's claimed
that each of us is a unique piece from God;
How amazing!
Well, then, somebody tell me
why we are not able to come together
and create the real justice
with the divine power on the Earth;
Is it because a great number of humans
are Falllen Angels
or the source of evils ,
Or wish to be the best ornaments
in the Aden of Devils?
Categories:
aden, evil,
Form:
Free verse
There was a time when I had more hair and I was, I imagine, a little thinner…when our family gathered around one table to enjoy Thanksgiving dinner.
But as our family grew and our table didn’t…as a family we were no longer able…to sit together in one spot…so we added…the grandchildren’s table.
To make life easy and to make sure the rest of our family fit…with the grandchildren at the grandchildren’s table is where I chose to sit.
As far as I was concerned I had won the Thanksgiving prize…I could listen to the adult conversation while seeing the world through my grandchildren’s eyes.
It’s funny how all the grandchildren aspired to be at the table where all the adults were meeting…while I was happy on a stool at the grandchildren’s table…watching…listening…and eating.
For years this was our seating arrangement on Thanksgiving and Christmas Day…until all that changed when our eldest son, Bryan, decided to move away.
So Damien moved up to the adult table just a few steps across the floor…meaning the grandchildren’s table which once had five…was now reduced to four.
Bonnie was the next to move…Taylor moved into her seat with glee…which meant sitting at the grandchildren’s table left only Aden and Ava…and me.
This year eight people made it to our Thanksgiving dinner and so, it was conceded…our dining room table was big enough and the grandchildren’s table was not needed
I understand the mathematics…how around one table we all can fit…but that didn’t stop me from looking over and remembering the place…where I use to sit.
Looking back to a time when getting our entire family together was easy…
back to a little table where so many wonderful memories lie…
back, when I sat with my grandchildren and saw the world through younger…more innocent eyes.
Which makes me hope and pray for the day…when our entire family is here again and once again we find it fitting…to bring out the grandchildren’s table…
I know where I’ll be sitting.
Categories:
aden, family, thanksgiving,
Form:
Rhyme
The last couple of times we’ve had dinner with our family I have been enthralled
as we sit and talk around the table…by all the names I’m called.
Since James was given to me by my parents on the day that I was born.
like most people I’ve had many names…many hats that I have worn
In the moments our family spends together, however,
in all the conversations we have had…
Deborah calls me Jim…Damien, Trista Taylor, Aden and Ava call me PopPop…
while Bryan, Ali and Ryan call me Dad.
And I got to thinking…now that Damien and Trista are about to have a baby
(November 14th is the anticipated date)
although I don’t yet know what my great-granddaughter will call me…
I know it will be great.
Whatever name she chooses…I’ll add it to the list I’ve been compiling…
and just like Jim and Dad and PopPop…when I hear it
you can bet that I’ll be smiling.
Which makes me think…
although our birth certificate contains the first name to befall us…:
we spend the rest of our life trying to live up to
all the different names that people call us.
With the hope the people who say our name…whatever name
will always love…and never fear it…
and we will smile…feeling that same love…every time we hear it.
So when we’re gone…when our friends and family are seated around a table…
when only memories of us remain….
a smile will cross the face of everyone…
every time they say our name.
Categories:
aden, family,
Form:
Rhyme
Years ago at our cabin, when our grandchildren Damien and Taylor were young…
(Why does time so often seems so short)
the four of us with lumber from Lowes decided to build a fort.
The exact date of this undertaking…I’m so old now…I forget
I do know our two other grandchildren, Aden and Ava, weren’t in our family yet.
We built that fort one summer and what a playhouse it became…
built with our own hands…between two trees…Camp Mica was it’s name
We built it far enough away from the cabin…
where Damien and Taylor could let their imaginations fly…
but close enough, where through the woods, we could keep a watchful eye.
We even installed a zip line pulley system…making it easy for us to transport…
Nana’s home-made cookies directly to the fort.
The cabin and the fort had walkie-talkies…the plan was as simple as it was grand…
they would walkie-talkie up their order,,
and we would zip line down a basket…into their waiting hands.
Aden and Ava when they finally arrived…and were old enough to enjoy our forts design
took full advantage of the walkie-talkie and Nana’s cookies coming down the line.
But as I say time is short and our grandchildren are all grown…
the zip line was long ago taken down…and Camp Mica stands alone.
The forest has grown up around her…we can barely see her through the trees
I like to think she’s waiting patiently for another generation to appease.
She’s resting as we all are on her memories…of a time not long ago
when children climbed her ladder to play in their miniature chateau.
When they called us on their walkie-talkie…because on snacks they wanted to dine
and we gladly filled the basket and sent it down the line.
Now as I sit her looking down at that old fort…remembering the laughter and the tears
I see how just like me she has weathered a little over the years…
Yes, Camp Mica needs a little touching up…
but with a great-granddaughter on the way…it’s future is now set…
and I’ve got a little time to bring that old fort back to life…
because, it seems, she’s not done making memories yet.
Categories:
aden, family,
Form:
Rhyme