Best Balder Poems
Another harsh Winter we must face
It Matters not, no one can escape Fate
Not Even The Gods
With Bravery we shall Stand Strong
In Care we shall advance onto Vigrid
Fenrir Will Lay dead
By Dawn's Perch
Trim Your Nails, to Prevent Naglfar
It's time to suit up; We Are The Einherjar
Protector's of Ragnorak
The Army of The Gods
The Lovers of Valhalla
All of Midgard will sing
Of our triumph and their Defeat
Sadly all will come, In a twinkling
To An Utter End
Madi, Magni, Sons of Thor
Balder, Hod, Residence of Hel
Lif, Lifthasir, of Yggdrasil
Do us well
Remembrance of our noble deeds
Is all well enough
Sing the Song
We Are The Einherjar
Clyde was shocked when he looked in the mirror
His plight he noted clearer and clearer
He was growing balder
Like a leafless alder
He would have no more need for a shearer
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
It's the last breathe of the dying land,
maybe an enchanted wind passing,
perhaps the spirit of a vanaishing forest,
everybody's specualting,
they are asking,
Who created that spectacle?
Their eyes are mesmerized and wider,
wandering towards the natural phenomenon,
it's something new to them,
never they have seen it since birth,
it's something spectacular,
a MIRAGE growing wilder on a dead river.
Perhaps the wind created it,
they thought,
while its scent,
blows very dry and getting drier,
no longer soothes,
but drying those woods cut from the forest,
they are charcoal woods for expanding
barbecue market in town's plaza,
everyday they will only be for charcoal business.
Forest,
you are not made for death,
but to live and let live,
yet you are not immortal,
you are getting balder,
and you stopped feeding the rivers with water,
your death is getting closer,
filter weaker the sun's heat,
getting hotter without you,
the land's temperature:
Feverish and rising out of control,
turning soils into pebbles and stones,
everything dried dying and thirsty,
everywhere,
from dead cornfields and deserted ricefields,
MIRAGE appears, dances and wilder.
For the greed of charcoal,
chronic abused of forest,
killing along their right to exist,
MIRAGE a symptom of uncontollable warming,
till everything die.
By the barrage of flies, bald John can tell how
Safe his meal is for feasting. The spotted
fawn yet battered breathes.
Clean blood is poison, he knows,
So before he drinks, he waits for the devil
To pee in the stream.
Then he shovels tissue down to the marrow,
As the odor barbers him balder.
Bare-bodied ravens beguiled him
To become a fiend thus famished. He
Perches patiently over the repast,
Pin-talons dull from scraping bone,
Wings worn from hauling carrion upwind.
He bates them at the first sign,
And targets the fawn’s fattest artery.
But he himself is sick on the verge:
Of a wavering branch, of a mortal dusk,
Of that decay which wove twig to build his nest,
That which buoyed flight when he was weak.
With twilight nigh, he trembles in withdrawal;
Grey feathers fall as he
Walks in falter to the tawny fawn;
Toward Life, or Death,
Or their bastard unclaimed.
Each inch is priced a silver plume. He sheds,
Till over swoons his avian frame, lonesome
Lying nude and three-fourths-dead,
Broken beak ajar, tongue longing
For the opiate thrill of red
Flowed from the hollows of that mirroring fawn;
He drools for the non-anointed oil dripping thence.
It renews his plumage,
Though makes matte the luster of his eye.
Resurrects him that he may wean on death,
As prey to his vice—prey to his own heart,
While nature begs his piety, but sin sustains his being.
"The Prequel"
by: Eric L. Boddie
In my Life, I have come across so many people
And all of them are truly equal
Because we all must battle evil
And everyday, that is the sequel
And some don't agree with how I Chase The Steeple
Maybe it's because I am balder than the eagle
Or perhaps because instead of a brush, I use a pen for my easel
Or maybe it's because as a child I survived the chickenpox and measles
Or because I prefer pit bulls to beagles
Or because I am a black man who listens to Hoobastank and the Beatles
Or because I like both, gas and sour diesle
Or because I am loyal unlike a weasel
Or because my eyes are more open than a needle
Or because I prefer movies by Joel Siegle
Instead of those that only matter feekle
Or because I feel respect is rather regal
Because I TRY my best to do what God Deems As Legal
After All, Only He Is The Prequel
(Part 2 - please see Part 1 first thank you)
And those of us who feel just plain lost in today’s modern world
Believe me you are not alone
Might look at Dave’s life and think that it’s real, and legitimate
When it’s just a fake deal – none of this has just fallen in ‘Dave’s’ lap
Because he deserves it as he’s a ‘good lad’
But you don’t want to know this and it makes you feel even worse
Accusing others of being jealous and defending this ‘Dave’ first
So you massage your avatar in every way
Thinking it will pave your way
Save the day
Keep you out of real life’s harming ways
Because despite the visions of
Human contact on the Facebook adds
You never meet up with the lads,
Go bowling or hang out in the park
Because these days the world is just too dark
It’s not safe and too expensive to go out and have a lark
So you stay inside and become an online stud who gets lots of online ****
Who enjoys an open relationship?
But which in real life is just a lie
Because right now you are sat in a room, full of gloom
With your back to your wife
Atmosphere so tense you could cut it with a knife
As you massage your Facebook life
And now you cannot make it more plain
That she is just not good enough for the Facebook ‘you’
Who now believes he is a complete stud
But she’s lives in reality and not on line
Working hard, pays the bills, attends to the minutiae of real life
While you, 36 and unemployed, pines
And neither you, nor she, can ever measure up to the complete fantasy
Of the world of your Facebook Land
All Facebook has done is help you create a monster which has got out of hand
And you never did have that conversation, in real life, with your wife
That you have demoted her from your wife, to ‘f*ck buddy’
That’s just your online self massaging reality out of your life
Why communicate with your wife – it’s safer (to your online life)
To just cut her out – she’d never understand anyhow
But somehow you stay with her every day
Getting older, balder, and weaker as your life ebbs away
Never leaving the house or doing anything with your day
So what is the plan?
Do you face real life and make one of your own
Where you know where you are going and where you come from
A life at which you could really look
Why bother – there’s always Facebook.....
Anna Archichek
Searching for a Lover
one that is a hugger, a laugher
one that won't make me
madder, sadder,
or even balder
one that's not
a pouter or a schemer
one that is a soother, a spooner
even a squealer
not a faker, a stalker,
or a midnight squawker
one that is a winner,
could be a singer, a hummer
even a drummer
I don't need a fibber,a downer
or even a frowner
just need one that will make me
shiver and quiver
for being a great kisser
one that I can flatter
to make her day brighter
one that I can be her anchor
her answer, her charmer
her winer and diner
her knight in shining armor
I can be her victor, her healer
one that I can give humor, laughter
even pleasure
one that I make safer,smoother
and a little softer
a girl I can meet at the alter
for i will not falter
Another year older no balder –
dash,
Wishing I could write my life ('s)
perfect poem before I
pass
Out of this world to the other
side,
While dreaming of my mother
And can’t wait to
fly.
One more circle around the old solar
disk
And it won’t be long before I’m not forgetfully
missed.
Not that I’ve done momentous things
Deserving of remembrance too sad to
sing
But only that I’m still here today, thankfully
having another undeserved birth
day.
© Terrell Martin. 01/17/2025
Baldies of the world, do not despair!
It's not the end, you just lost some hair!!
Balder men are more virile, thus spake a sage
And many a woman "testify" to this old adage..
Balder men are noted to be wise and mature
Trusted by everyone, their thoughts kind and pure
No need for shampoos, combs or for hair cream
No need for a barber even in the wildest dream
Every day we can have a fresh head bath day
Not just once a week or only on one Sunday
Hairline well receded, you never seem to age
As you reach middle age, that'll be an advantage
You can fit into a cap or hat or any headgear with ease
Or you can wear a stylish wig, as fashions never cease
Father of our Nation was bald, so were Nehru and Patel
You may be considered great, and you can weave a tale!
So, Baldies of the world, don’t despair!
It is not the end, you just lost some hair!
Opening of borders
It deeply touches and bothers
When closed are a country’s borders:
Sealed, helpful channel of a trade
Of super grade.
They needlessly suffer,
Who chiefly feed from neighbour’s offer,
To their radios, a glued concerned ear,
Wanting to a different news hear.
Opening the borders
Is a time-and-again prayer request
Of my panicking brothers
Separated from the Best:
In homilies, giving God’s Angels orders
For intervening scissors on the wires across the borders,
Their knees getting balder
From longer genuflections,
Their faces older
From meditative reflections.
It’s now an active interest in incense
By previous haters of its smell:
A struggle, impressive, to contain a nonsense
And again, The Good, make well.
But opening the borders could be
Unbolting doors to a journeying plague
And vicious bee;
To a virus with a clothing decidedly vague
Or to some penetrative spies
Helping their mission with good lies.
Baldies of the world, do not despair!
It's not the end, you just lost some hair!!
Balder men are more virile, thus spake a sage
And many a woman "testify" to this old adage..
Balder men are noted to be wise and mature
Trusted by everyone, their thoughts kind and pure
No need for shampoos, combs or for hair cream
No need for a barber even in the wildest dream
Every day we can have a fresh head bath day
Not just once a week or only on one Sunday
Hairline well receded, you never seem to age
As you reach middle age, that'll be an advantage
You can fit into a cap or hat or any headgear with ease
Or you can wear a stylish wig, as fashions never cease
Father of our Nation was bald, so were Nehru and Patel
You may be considered great, and you can weave a tale!
So, Baldies of the world, don’t despair!
It is not the end, you just lost some hair!