Best Batons Poems
Left tall and dry, lies the pillared maize forsaken.
Barren fields of corn, stand row by row.
When yellow ears have long been gathered,
a dusty crop has paid it's garnered due.
The dry stalks bend and dangle stiff remains,
and autumn winds return to whip batons and play.
The quiet fields tune harps and violins,
making harmony from husks, with swaying stalk refrains.
Categories:
batons, nature, seasonsautumn,
Form:
Free verse
Heavily laden boats, rectangular sails billowing
Under seas of low cloud, braving the fierce Yangtze;
Held between snowcapped mountains, earth and sky
Indistinguishable from steaming mist and rolling fog;
A long drawn straggle of Grey Geese plummeting down
From breathless, rarefied air to stumble awkwardly onto
Plum coloured mudbanks; an unrestrained, excitable
Cacophony of frenzied honking! Then wild monkeys
Provoked into howling each side of the river.
There, at the juncture with Longjin Brook, stilted homes,
Half-hidden by bamboo groves, crouch at the waters
Edge; maidens will come to wash clothes
Whirling wooden batons, twittering like golden swallows;
Fragrant wildflowers enhance their sweetness.
At drab, pale, first-morning light, fishermen cast
Nets over the cooling, placid blue waters;
The fish that swim here are said to be the finest
In the province.
We will exchange Black Carp and Blunt-Snout Bream,
Wrapped in moist bamboo leaf, for glutinous rice
With the clans that tend the terraces inside the fertile
River valley...
Does not the Emperor insist upon good commerce?
If you are dissatisfied as a peasant
You can take the ancient "old tea horse road"
And burden your back with heavy bales stacked high
On a rail;
The road will take you all the way from Zigui
To Tibet...or even further perhaps,
And sombre ravens will soar overhead and taunt your
Every footstep.
But I will remain where I am, in the
Village On The Water
Nestled deep within the Three Gorges;
My life, the endless horizon stretched beyond,
Held in balance as if it were Shaseng
The Shadow Play Stone;
And each new morning awakening to slow,
Chiming bells.
Categories:
batons, appreciation, environment, winter,
Form:
Free verse
Poems creep in like spiders, capturing me in web so fair.
Poems slip in like mice, sticky traps holding them in place.
Poems prance in like majorettes, throwing batons in the air.
Sci-Fi dances around in my muse’s brain, taking all the space.
Poems twirl around my dendrite highway, waking me up.
Poems shake me off the bed, landing me squarely on the floor.
I hear the last line, and I think “was that word buttercup?”
Poems laugh at my consternation, their humor I deplore.
Poems slide by on the wings of undiscovered pretty galaxies.
They jump into my head at restaurants when I cannot find a pin.
Poems dive bomb my bed at night, witch-like in their hex-ease.
They throw themselves at me in bathrooms; I simply cannot win.
I do the best I can though, amusing poems in ways I do not dream.
They throw down words I have never heard, and so I look them up.
Poems own me, taking me hostage in a pretty hostage stream.
Did you hear that? I have to know. Was that word buttercup?
Categories:
batons, poems, poetess, poetry, poets,
Form:
Rhyme
She is quite the Mistress of the air, synchronize swimming where Eagles dare-stare, no need for landing batons or clearance, she has her own flare.
She wraiths the hapless night and the brilliance of day, rakes the sky, knowing her beauty laid, showcased on big screenery-
rewards God with a show bow and cloud kiss of why His All Knowingness plays, ~The Mistress (proud)
Categories:
batons, art,
Form:
Rhyme
Arm to arm, sinews clutch
One another, makes friend and crutch;
One crimson call, which guidance brought
The feeble, stern: the working lot
To stand much greater, taller, strong
Filled with hope, in lines long,
That stretch from pain, from glum, from slum
To the halls of white where nations clump
In the deadest form of gathered hoards
Of finance and shares, secluded boards
Who array the work, who shackle in loans
Whose empty plots tempt the sleeping droves
In tent and rag, in cough and drag,
From hand to mouth, to work and back.
Yet in contempt that line is struck,
Still the routine is mute, no more this work
That builds the villa, never the mason’s,
Unthanked which blooms the fields all season,
The folks split off by plastic partition
Giving wealth immense, yet maimed cognition
Had kept whom bound to desk and ground
Their eyes have met and their fists now pound
Against steel ribbed doors, but why such fear
Thee lords of land in prim kept highest tiers?
Arisen so, on the claim of wealth,
At the cost of Earth, of hearth and health;
How much more flight, behind guarded holds,
Behind sentries and dictates so cold
Even in scorch of war, where poor kills poor;
So the wealth of nations in tons can pour
Onto odd few hands, to hold all us chained
To the will of profit, for profit’s sake.
But in queues, we’ve come, tools shucked
Your batons brooked, your shots shrugged
By the calloused bossom, by tried spine,
That props all of it up, runs it all in time.
And without us many, your wealth is rust,
Without our trust it’s all a fleeting gust
Of paper slips and accords of force
And we see dawn, from these dues divorced.
And the sun to snatch, the sickle drives,
And the barricades the hammer tries,
While the quill writes, not fearing death,
A push for renewal, for a gasp of breath.
Categories:
batons, class, work,
Form:
Free verse
FROM MY ROOF TOP
From my roof top I see the world crumbles
I saw people of mine shout, endlessly
They shout for two common things
They shout for these two alone
Prosperity and democracy
They want an answer and their voices heard
But they were denied, all
An tears run down my cheek for them.
All these while two things are denied them
Just through the face masks of poli-sticks
So the country goes gaga
My country crumbles and crumbles fast
Faster than its expiry date comes
Two things are denied it as a cause
The suddenly, A man came panting
The power-man has come to shut us up.
He wears a coat too big yet very tight
To strangle our wriggling voices
'Go home, go home' I heard him shout
But he only rained saliva and a chewy gum
As I laugh, the riot explodes
Police, police, gendarme
Then blows and bloods
Bullets and batons.
Empty fists and stifled voices
There was a heightened battle to crumble a regime
So Mr. President answer me
Why poverty is now riding the economic horse
You alone jolly riding everywhere
For these decades you planted none, a seed
Your monarchy has divorced our democracy
Therefore go home, go home, too.
Yesterday your eyes were like those of an Angel
And you gaze upon us with mercy, passion, we all
Now your eyes beams of the Sun, Satan
Jesus! dear creator's messenger
Beg on our behalf, do it now
We plead your father, our grand, comes early to our rescue
To warn the world, of its bad nuts
Before it stands out against them.
We have started our calls, our shouts, our protests
From Tunisia to Egypt
Yemen to Syria
Brunei to Georgia
Here we come, to demand our pound of flesh
That, that has been taken from our toils
This day, not waiting, straight for it, now
From where they are, hidden.
The roof tops of powers
As I watch them from my roof top here.....
Categories:
batons, political
Form:
Dodoitsu
Our table is set – it looks divine
Crystal glasses for our red wine
Silver cutlery with which to eat
Our favourite meal – oh what a treat
The table is set on our patio
With romantic music and the lights down low
A candle burns to give us light
I hope you enjoy this culinary delight
Starter
Scottish smoked salmon with a lemon wedge
Served on a bed of crisp iceberg lettuce
With homemade dill mayonnaise
Main course
Chateaubriand steak cooked medium - there's plenty for two
(I ate it on my first date with you!!)
Served with
Crispy onion rings
Sautéed mushrooms
French beans, broccoli florets and carrot batons
Chunky fries
French Mustard
Dessert
Homemade chocolate almond brownie
Served with rich chocolate sauce and double cream
Tea or freshly brewed coffee
Bon Appetit!
Footnote…
Writing this menu brings back many memories of a meal we had …
on our first date we ate at a lovely restaurant called ‘Celebrity’ it was the first time I had ever been taken to somewhere so posh where the lady gets the menu without the prices on.
After the starter the waiter brought over apricot sorbet – in my innocence I said … but I’ve not had my main course yet and I’ve not even chosen the dessert ... ‘madam’ he said it is to cleanse your palate – oh the innocence of youth !
10~25~15
Contest: For all ladies and brave men
Sponsor: Judy Konos
Categories:
batons, food, for him, romantic,
Form:
Free verse
It was written down in Black and White
Beautiful people segregated
Their dignity denied
A nation diminished and divided
Deprived and depraved
Hatred in the heart spewed out
Across the pages
Erupted on the streets
In peaceful protests
The sound of struggle songs
To ease the wrongs
Batons, beatings and bombings
Courtrooms, judges and jail cells
The sickening crack of gunfire
So many cried
Too many died
The pain runs deep
It wasn’t meant to be
And it’s left a shameful legacy
Which in the end
Only Love will mend
Categories:
batons, abuse, conflict, discrimination, political,
Form:
Free verse
Bang spectrum of Confetti start the celebration!
Rosy majorettes clad in brick red whistle thrice,
Golden tassel batons toss and fly, greets sky!
Her comrade increase the feat heat synchronization,
Thunder cheers flood alongside adding spice.
Beginning their flamboyant rhythm and blues sound
Are black and white drum and bugle epic vibrations.
Come in well coordinated act: all nice
Loud gigantic flowered covered floats in slow motion
Meatball, the big brown bear, pop and arise,
''Catching the Big one'', orange fish rolls down,
Sweet fragrance of roses afloat around.
Yellow haired boy from ''Sea of Surprises'', drown the frown.
Tempted eyes, ears, nose and feet in joyous heights!
(c)Olive Eloisa
11:45pm
June 26, 2014
Originally entitled: COLOURS for the contest Colours of Shadow Hamilton placed 4th.. :)
Note: Inspired by "Tournament of Roses Parade". During New Year's Time, me and my mom views this telecasted tournament.. :) I love the creativity and the great imagination of the rose float creators..:D!!! This is held annually in California, USA sponsored by Honda. How wonderful it is if this seen live.. :)! On my readings, each year there is a theme to inspire the creators. The first ever theme was about Patriotism, this year: "Dreams come True" and next year: "Inspiring Stories".
Categories:
batons, america, art, beautiful, celebration,
Form:
Sonnet
Canada, land of good
manners, polite people
until we lose the Cup
and angry crowds of testosterone
go wild
burn cars and porta-potties
hurl bottles, bricks,
street signs and threats
at lines of riot masks
and batons ready
for adrenaline
almost as high
as that elusive win
Categories:
batons, sports
Form:
Free verse
Insidious, insipid, id-inebriated imbeciles
incite impetus into inevitable immolation.
Bombast, bluster and bluff: blunt batons of barbarian bullies;
backwards behaviour blackballs baronial breed's burdens and bonds.
Weasely, willy-waving warmongers wage wanton war of words
without wit, wisdom or worldliness, whilst we weakly watch and wait.
Regrettable, repugnant reprobates ravage refined realms with
reprehensible rapier-rattling and rancid rhetoric.
Clash of corrupt, contemptible cutthroats carves calamity 'cross
continents and culminates in catastrophic conflagration.
Pointless predatory and political power-plays pale as
pirouetting pariahic pyres patently a pyrrhic prize.
------------------------------------------
(16 syllables on every line, checked with howmanysyllables.com)
14 October 2017
Categories:
batons, corruption, death, destiny, horror,
Form:
Alliteration
Homage to Catalonia?
Policeman wielding batons or shedding a welled up tear,
Flag waving populace or staying home in fear,
State defence of self, or defending an historic lie,
Should we pay homage, or should we just weep and cry?
Turning out to vote, or disobedient serf,
Democratic abuser or defending right of birth,
Violent state repression or debating reasons why,
Should we pay homage, or should we just weep and cry?
Hurried lines drawn on maps or quite beyond the pale,
Land up for rental or permanently for sale,
Freedom of expression or state to look and pry,
Should we pay homage, or should we just weep and cry?
Part of bigger state, or standing on your own,
Wired in kit at home, or mobile telephone,
Going with a third, or vote not home and dry,
Should we pay homage, or should we just weep and cry?
©Keith Murphy
Categories:
batons, conflict, confusion, freedom, international,
Form:
Couplet
Later That Evening
by Odin Roark
Later that evening
We saw sounds of lightning’s wings
Touches of symphonic batons
The fragrance of paint awaiting canvas
The images of inner peace
The taste of weightlessness
So many sensations
Unavailable during the day
You remember?
So easy
It was
The we of me
Of you
Oneness
Reserved
For collective beingness
We let the flames warm
The day’s frozen fears
Our sun-cloud enlighten doubt
Simplicity personify permanence
As we gave away
The need for nothingness
You do remember
Don’t you?
Such were our times together
What only one’s muse and charge
Can know
All else is illusion
Remember?
Categories:
batons, strength,
Form:
Free verse
how much is it worth to you to feel safe and secure?
how much would you spend? how much could you afford?
what is the monetary value that you would place on your life?
how much money would it take? how much would you sacrifice?
what price safety? what would be the cost?
what price safety? what would you spend to prevent the loss?
too frightened to get on the elevator in the building where you reside
don't know if you'll make it to your door before a thief is at your side
too scared to walk to your car alone in a public parking lot
don't know if you'll get the keys in the door before you're assaulted or shot
what price safety? how much money would you spend
just to have that feeling of security once again?
most every elected official in most every country in this world
have their own taxpayer funded security detail
the celebrities, movie stars and TV personalities
have personal body guards and/ or private security
America has been on heightened alert since the Twin Towers did fall
the airports, the borders and Homeland Security are constantly on the ball
security has become one of the nation's fastest growing industries
and you can't go anywhere in this world without showing identity
so how much would you spend to remove from your life that spirit of fear?
how many dollars would it take to protect what you hold dear?
there're not enough police to go around to be in society's face
so security officers take up the slack and stand in their place
we've become the front line defenders that the community sees
to detect, protect and defend them and their property
retailers spend thousands of dollars just to secure their goods
from thieves, boosters, shoplifters and your garden variety hoods
the government be it federal, county, city or state
use security officers to keep the peace in abate
yet without benefit of weapons, no batons, no vests or guns
we hold to our positions and we get the job done
we alert the police, FDNY and the EMTs
at the first signs of violence, fire and any emergency
but we're at a disadvantage when it comes to getting paid
for we barely make what would be considered a livable wage
what price safety? what would it be worth to you
to give security officers what they are due?
what price safety? I ask you once more
what price would you pay just to feel secure?
WHAT PRICE SAFETY?
Categories:
batons, dedication, introspection, on work
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
Lonely, December Calendar folio awaiting removal
New calendar waiting to unfold and adorn the wall
Midnight human congregation beating star constellation high
Ring out wild bells to the wild sky
Successful, toast to mark rise from dust speck to living pollen
Failures, drench in drink, surrendering control to cerebellum
Joy or grief, party clamour crescendo does not die
Ring out wild bells to the wild sky
Wishes exchanged fast like batons passed on relay race track
Desperate reciprocation, as if wishes alone to make or break
Resolution for efforts nowhere in circulation, none knows why
Ring out wild bells to the wild sky
Not almighty, human fragmented life into many a year
For HIM full life is a year, Death a threshold of New Year
Live to rise spiritually, on Death let HIS celebration toast clink high
Ring out wild bells to the wild sky
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Written by - Hitendra Mehta
Entry for Members Contest Nov 2011 - "Ring out wild bells to the wild sky" by Dr Ram Mehta
Categories:
batons, timedeath, death, life, new
Form:
Kyrielle