Best Adventurers Poems
I recognized you in an old photo
taken long before I knew you
You were among the ancient ones
The ones on whom you depended
You were brother, son, nephew
and cherished grandchild
I recognized you by your quiet demeanour
gazing with those watchful gentle eyes
I have witnessed that look many times
I am sorry I have not asked you more questions
Too often I am too busy to make time
Please tell me stories about the ancient ones
the ones who laid your foundation
Tell me about your happy and your sad.
What did you dream about for your future?
Have your expectations been met?
What is your greatest joy?
Two photos, one of you, one of mom
a handsome man and pretty girl
Were they taken before you were one?
Your family knew you both so well
They gifted you a lifetime
they knew you would endure
Together you have traveled far
You have accomplished so much
Another photo of your VW Bug
The six of you with that seventies vibe
you were all accustomed to close spaces
You and mom were courageous adventurers
You moved to this strange new world
This big empty city with ghost-like streets
white unfamiliar faces
I can’t imagine how scary it must have been
the sound of voices you could not understand
In a country that was not always welcoming
How did you survive your lonely?
Hours and days working away from home
You persevered, knowing what was important
Family has always been your priority
You were not seduced by the unimportant things
You are a good man William
Slow to anger, gentle of spirit
You see with kind eyes
I appreciate your smile
I appreciate being part of your picture
Your gifts have been passed to your children
your children’s children and their children
Your ripples have traveled far
There is another picture of us
We are standing on a staircase
Your children their spouses
and with children of their own
Without your breath
none of this would be possible
You and mom together
are the heartbeat of our family
Your Ninety years have been well lived
Thanks for blessing us all
Thanks for being a good and faithful man
Happy 90th Birthday Dad
You are greatly loved!
By Richard Lamoureux
Dedicated to my wife's dad for his 90th Birthday.
As droplets freeze half-breathed
From the mouth of Winter
Howling winds, foreboding
Bring gloom to pale landscape
Yet the Ice Enchantress
Conjures sultriness:
Fluttering tree lashes
Snow-covered ample breast
Her crystal lips invite
She burns despite the chill
And dares adventurers
To succumb to her will
Despite the threat of death
It's futile to resist
The cool invitation
Which glistens from her eyes
As she entrances those
Who cannot look away
But step so willingly
Into a blissful fate
First place in Constance La France's "Let it Snow" contest
Sacred silence
Blended with praise
For the Creator, who always will amaze
Quietly hovering, winged splendor
Beautiful like the vibrant hues
Glazed in whispered dreams
Music, art and poetry
Blessed brilliance
Laughing like the stars
Whimsical and mysterious
Magnificent, painted in exciting tints
Melodious aspirations kindled
Beneath prayers for grace
Awakening on the heart of faith
Holy lights, soft sensations
Breathing – dancing
Across the flowers, the shadows
Breathtaking wisdom
Open to the heartfelt belief
That paints the spirit
In intimacy, caressing, kissing
Softly, like a sigh
Butterflies tour
The buds and blossoms
Grazing, amazing
Stunning those who see
These delicate adventurers
Stirring hearts, stirring dreams
Reminding eyes to see…
The journey of beauty and grace
Flickering across the prayer
For an image so amazing, praising
Flight Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
June 4, 2022
The Beauty of Charkha the Spinning Wheel 2
The Poem is dedicated to Mahatma Gandhi and his Charkha
Part 3
The rapidly emerging new discoveries
Were influencing and enchanting
The ever thirsty mind and hearts
Of every adventure lover.
The entire Europe and the remaining world
Of that Era
Almost became crazy
After watching and witnessing
The new magic’s
Of that wonderful thirteenth century
Glued with the stunning new discoveries
Which was appearing one after another
Bewildering everyone of that age.
New stories of love and adventures were appearing
With new amazing attractions and lore’s
Which always enchants the human mind
Like the islands of amazements and hope
Inviting the adventurers and young lovers
To come and see, to enjoy and relish
A totally new more intoxicating and elegant
But untouched wine
Of the unexplored East. …
Stories about of these unknown lands
Had already reached and stimulated
The young throbbing mind and hearts
Of the new young voyagers and lovers
Who were keen to go and bring with them
An entire new world
For their sweet hearts and beloved’s.
Many voyagers were ready
With their long cherished longings and dreams
Which had in them
The hidden untold desires and ambitions
Equipped with God gifted muscle powers
To mold anything and above all
They had the bold and strong determinations
To throw themselves and their ships
On the waves of the vast unlimited
And unexplored oceans
Without caring for the sea storms and
High rising waves.
Ravindra K Kapoor
Kanpur India 9th June 2015
To continue in next …..
Protected under the Copyright provisions of Poetry Soup.
There Are A Thousand Treasures Of Kings
Worth More, Than All The Wealth, There Could Be !
Some Say, It’s In A Kingdom Of Dreams
Others Say, It’s As Real As You & Me
The Legend Says, There’s A Kingdom Of Love
In A Kingdom, Far Away & Above
Kings-Treasures, To Be Claimed By The Best
Those Worthy Of Courage, To Quest
& So, This Is Where I’ll Start, My Friend,
Tho’, This Isn’t Where The Real Tale Begins
You See, There Was A Merry Band Of Adventurers
Who Went On A Quest, As Treasure-Gatherers
There Was Moses, The Freedom-Circle-Rider
Stayed His Course, Like An Eagle-Glider
There Was Goff, The Monk Of Sky and Trees
His Visions Of Life, Were As Open As Doors With Keys
There Was Kendricks, The Keeper Of ‘Interesting’ Tracks
& Marty, Of The Hale & Hearty & Power-Pen Pack
There Was Adell of Deep Wells … & Dio, The Devoted
& Dame Brown Of Mountain-Ground, So Sweetly-Noted
There Was An Irish Lass, O’Leary Of Laughter
& The Golden Daughter Of Grace & Audrey Of Gifted-Banter
& Devonshire, The Dove & Highlander Of Heather-Cove
Of First To Join Search: For Soup & Treasure-Trove
Of Course, We Have A Prince Of Passion Land
& Ismael, A Dream-Merchant From His Own Island
The Prince, Paints Of Pleasures; The Islander Speaks of Treasures
Both Know Of Biggest Royal Cache That We Could Ever Measure !
There Came Tim, The Archer Of The Wit-Forest
& A Determined Mother with Son, The Lady Doris
Maid Adams, Who Teaches How To Keep Cold Away
& The Lightning-Voice Of Linda Marie, Keeps Wolves At-Bay
There Is Sir Lamoureu of Sir Lancelot's Order
He Wields Words In Articulate Axes & Armor
And To Those Who Dare Say Chivalry Is Dead ...
Is Because -The Sonnets of Sir Lamoureu, They Have Not Read
& The Legendary Language That Sir Lamoureu Pledge
Then There's Lady Linda, A Chatelaine & A Poet Destroyer
But She Only Versus The Verses of The Vanity Voyeurers
Her Skill With Quill Accurately Quite Accords
As Proof of Pens Being Mightier Than Swords
We Have A Pretty Elf Known As Anne Lise Andresen
Her Piquant Topics of Poetry Makes Her Our Taliesin
And We Have Our Very Own Kind Maid Merryman
She Transports Adventures Better Than A Ferryman
Part 1 of 2
As I looked out from the clifftops
The ocean sang to me.
A long sad lament I heard
A yearning for the sea.
It sang of the good ship Mayflower,
Setting sail from Plymouth sound.
Carrying forth the pilgrims,
All were New World bound.
It sang of tall ships sailing,
And adventurers of old.
Of buccaneers, of galleons
And chests of Spanish gold.
It sang of mighty battleships,
All sailing line astern.
It sang of Trafalgar,
Where the French and Spanish burned.
Oh to have witnessed such,
To visit times now past.
To discover unknown, distant lands.
To see the world, beneath the mast.
Let's all take a trip to the moon
Go star hopping while whistling a tune
Travel through time, forward or reverse
Visit new worlds in another universe
Then return in the blink of an eye
Imagine a sub going deep in the ocean
An underwater world where everything is slow motion
Gaze at the mountains that once breathed fresh air
Valleys covered with flowers and life everywhere
Now frozen in time a living tomb of the past
Inhabited by strange creatures, a sci-fi movie cast
Sunken ships of adventurers, reminders of wars
Lost treasures, such beauty and fathoms more
We're surfacing, please blink your eyes
Let's walk the tight wire of love to the heart
One side is bright, the other is dark
A major attraction on the virtual tour
We could stay here for days and talk, I'm sure
The heart is the jukebox, if you will
Songs it plays depends how you feel
Happy songs, sad songs, even songs of violence
Occasionally we unplug it and sit in silence
Time to go, just blink your eyes
Now look into the abyss of despair
We rarely like to go there
Where time is consumed by the jackals of depression
And hopelessness thrives on dangerous obsessions
Hurry along, just blink your eyes
Take a break, relax, we're nearing the end
Last stop, are you ready shall we begin
Back to reality, right here, right now
Just close your eyes and look around
The incomparable brain of the human being
It all starts here, what you're feeling or seeing
One can go anywhere, do anything, be anyone, be anything
or go everywhere, do everything, be everyone, or everything
The vastness of the mind has no ceiling or floor
Set it free, let it wander, to worlds unexplored
an original poem by the "poemdog" Daniel Turner
Once upon a fairy tale,
Lived a colony of tiny folk
Who decided to set sail,
Because across the pool
Lay greener pastures
Of which they wanted
To become masters.
For tiny folk to cross this pool
Took courage, had to be so
Strong and bold,
Clever little people, none a fool,
Would, take three days, and it
Was Winter, the water icy cold,
Took too much with them in their
Frail small boat,
Only twenty carefully got in,
Pioneers, ready to make history,
The leader thought.
So off they set, across foreign water
Three families of extended kin!
Suddenly a loud noise and high waves,
Rocked their boat, they had no control
Rover the Labrador had jumped
Into the pool,
A tsunami capsized them, they chocked,
Spluttered, but hung onto their boat,
And thus they kept afloat.
Then they saw Rover,
His mouth wide open, he scooped
Them up gently as they
Rested on his tongue, strangely they
Were unafraid for they had seen
Rover across the pool playing on
Pastures green,
This Labrador wanted to play
To while his time away,
But instead saved them from drowning,
Took them back from whence they came,
And slowly lay them down
Rover the Labrador had earned his fame,
He barked and wagged his tail
These little humans spoke and run
And cried and laughed, he
Loved them straight away
The tiny adventurers, did not fail
They were happy living beneath a
A large green bush, with little homes
Made out of sticks and leaves,
Right now these little folk
Were safe, but remain a mystery,
Only Rover knew and he could
Never tell,
Where his new found friends dwell!
And the moral of this tale,
Is things are not always greener
On the other side,
Rather hold on to what you
Have, with pride.
I finally got my most exuberant, elaborate wish
To talk to the poet who immortalized red and blue fish,
The maestro who made a living from books of green eggs and ham,
A man who made the Star Belly Sneetches great, good, and quite glam.
Of course I am talking about the poet who put a fox in socks,
A writer who had the foresight to take the Lorax out of a box,
A poet who did not hesitate to make up words that sound funny
A poet who made poetry happy and glad, and still brought in money.
I read his poetry to my children, and I laugh, and I giggle.
The animals, and machines, and the way his words made us sniggle.
Thing One and Thing Two, I wish they had come to my house!
He made startling creatures real, that madman that louse!
His poetry was shiny, and cutesy, and fabulifically slick.
He did it quite casually, but it was extibubally mighty and quick!
It entered our hearts, goosed us gorabolically, and it tickled our brains.
It turned us into adventurers, some pretty diatotally insane.
He whipped our imaginations in a mighty whirlpool of joy.
He slathered us with enjoyment, his books were our catatalifcator toy.
No matter how many books mom read us on a Saturday night.
Until she got to Dr. Seuss, nothing quite felt totalboxilly all right.
Written July 26, 2018
Contest: Add a Stanza to My Poem Poetry Contest
Contest Sponsor: Charles Messina
In the quiet corridors of my mind, where memory and flickering thoughts reside,
we tell ourselves stories in order to live, to find meaning in the chaos,
seeking sermons in the despair of loss, searching for lessons in violence,
where five snuffed-out lives become a moral parable,
a narrative we shape to comprehend an incomprehensible reality.
We are the weavers of our own truth, choosing the most viable threads,
interpreting what we see through the prism of our elaborate tales,
imposing a coherent line upon disparate images,
freezing the shifting phantasmagoria of our experiences
with the ideas we have learned, like anchors in the turbulent sea of existence.
Through this stream of consciousness, I wander deeply,
where tangled thoughts intertwine with hues of sentiment,
seeking to grasp the elusive threads of dreams and weave them into meaning,
we are adventurers in the landscapes of intellect and soul,
each story we tell a beacon, a light in the dark forest of the unknown.
We find comfort in the narrative line we impose,
an appearance of order in the whirlwind storm of existence,
where each moment is a passing phantom, each experience a fleeting shadow,
and yet, in this magic of storytelling, we find anchor, grace,
transforming the ephemeral into the enduring, the transient into the eternal.
Melancholy wraps itself around each story,
a whisper of beauty from sadness, a hint of light within the shadow,
each chosen word an attempt to freeze the fluid, to grasp the intangible,
to bind the phantasmagoria into something we can hold close to our hearts.
Life, with all its chaos and fractured pieces,
finds a fragile peace within the narratives we construct,
as we trace the lines of meaning with trembling fingers,
seeking to transcend the transient, to touch the infinite
in the sacred space of a well-told story, of a fleeting moment captured forever.
Through our stories, we become more than mere spectators,
we become the architects of our own destinies,
each story a spell, an enchantment against the inexorable flow of time,
and in this act of creation, we discover ourselves,
the storytellers, the dream weavers, the light in the storm,
casting a gentle glow over the phantasmagoria that is life.
Fourth of July meant summer vacation road trips
Sun and fun amusement parks and the beach
Flip flops and freckles carefree slow days like pouring cold honey
Fast and forever friends were found around the corner
New discoveries found due to a natural curiosity
Sea Shells, sea creatures and sand castles
young adventurers like westward homesteaders
We had life by the tail, no fear we new infinity
We believed we were untouchable
This little island was our haven and we explored like we were owners
Palm trees and tall grass was different than our everday tall oaks at home
Vacation was once per year no time to stop for necessities
Blistering sun on tender fair skin
Marinate my flesh in sunscreen
Daddy would laugh and play like he was a king
Mama didn't seem to mind as much on vacation our summer fling
Off us two went, beneath the trees,
that crackled and snappled
in Autumn’s crisp breeze,
our wellies slish-sloshing through the pelting rain,
plip-plopping, plip-plopping
again and again.
The thunder it rumbled,
and the wind it blew
but on and on,
the adventurers, two,
rustled through leaves
till we came to a tree,
and the treasure it threw -
just for you, and for me.
Dark red-brown shiners
were there to be gathered,
the bigger the better -
that’s all that mattered!
We took them in armfuls,
filled carrier bags,
then we strung them on strings -
“Oh, what fun we had!”
Crashing and bashing,
we let the strings fly,
around our knuckles,
and up, to the sky!
Knocked them together,
till they spun around,
in a smackety wallop -
one fell to the ground!
One of the shiners
was all split into two,
twas tough on the outside,
but inside, all goo!
The champion, victorious,
announced that she won
and I was defeated, but still, it was fun!
Conkers, all bonkers,
Oh, what a game!
And when next year comes
we will do it, again.
Suzy Davies, 2017. Copyright. All Rights Reserved.
1
At peace perhaps too much
a fine Spring rain
we seek news from the desert or capitol
of those who have dedicated their lives to losing their lives for us
adventurers, ancient honor, land runners
this campaign a must to advance one's career
a war president needs war
2
All you need to know is the names of things
chambers of commerce and large corporations
elements, products, decay fungi, egg masses
cultivars and their relation to wild grasses and the edge
uses of herbs, languages of mammals,
purposes of insects, placement of rocks
the names of everything by which we know our way
3
I've read about those remarkable souls who maintain self-control
among murderers and the unentertained multitude
who may have even spoken persuasively
at the right moment for speaking
and thus attracted a now unwanted immortality
there are only two ways you can tell
a bird of prey from a vision - humor and ritual
4
the Fedex gal
would be unlike taking off Emily Dickinson's clothes
over the counter perfume and spray paint hair
postman's shorts, black socks
a woman's legs are much like a man's
yet she too is beautiful, too beautiful, weekends
boating with her man
5
Suburbs, lawns, blankets
in a long, long nursery of babies
napping, old, blameworthy
and, I say this respectfully, blind
certain and uninterested
in motives more subtle than their immediate comfort
Who am I to complain?
6
Plants, poems: riches
our financial advisor doesn't count. Good and simple
a man as he is. Comes tousled
from early morning golf and puffy
from a late night fight or lovefest with his wife.
Inchworm
letting out its rope down an oak.
7
Late afternoon meeting
like the dry samara, achene or capsule surrounding a seed
how often have I tried to escape
my need, community, chamber of commerce
you cannot drive
the roads are theirs and the signs, perhaps
you can walk if you can name the plants and rocks and are willing to die
8
O happy family
there's some contentment in letting community and family decide
your place in it. Gatekeepers -
unconscious god, invisible hand, natural selection -
kind when refraining from violence
when not responding with force to the universe's effort
to extinguish us.
Mother Nature...Oh! Blue water,
Oh! Soft Globe...
I’m your slave; I’m your probe,
I’m for you... and for what you hold,
I’m a nature addict, this what I was told,
I like your fresh air...I like your breeze,
I like your flowery plants,
I like your shading trees,
I like all your little creatures....
Squirrels, wild rabbits, birds and bees,
I like the odours of your virgin prairies and farms,
I like the magical beauty of your countryside that charms,
Hunters, adventurers and lovers more...
Vagabonds and even fugitives who come for,
Seeking shelters to escape and hide,
Horses-lovers and jockeys who ride,
I like your singing rivers that show and lean,
I like your floating swans going in twin [s],
I like the tiny alleyways that lead and mean,
Paths, short cuts, mews...all in green,
I like your braying donkeys and the barking dog,
I like the whistling winds and your splashy bog,
I like your orphan turtles and the leaping frog,
I like your frosty mornings and your ghostly fog,
I like your stylish gardens...I like your vogue,
I like everything in you, mother-nature,
But I don't deserve you...
Since I’m destroying you,
And myself [...] I’m a rogue!!
how every new roaming is ever true to adventurers?