Best Battles Poems
“Let me be strong, for to be anything else is to languish in the abyss of compromise and to descend to places of impoverishment so destitute that they will squelch my soul and crush my heart.”
Craig D Lounsbrough
When left to languish in lament.
Metaphorical swords become tired
from words portrayed through bloodshed.
Misery is a master of manipulation,
pulling strings of sorrow,
personifying portraits of puppets in pain.
When dreams and desires disappear,
nonchalantly negating nocturnal nigrifying nightmares,
a heavy heart hoarding hurt is helpless,
crawling like a caterpillar without a cocoon.
In an anthology of anguish,
spirit withers in a lyrical language,
lost in lanes of latent lament,
so we search for signs to our secret sanctum,
to heal broken wings of bandaged butterflies.
When hope, like carnations of death, crumbles,
resembling crying chrysanthemums.
Tepid tears of tribulation,
trickle in trails of tired tinges of insecurities -
yet we still yearn for an expurgated Eden.
In the internal insanity of suffering,
sanity searches for a relief from repression,
as our existence can emanate into
a chalice full of missed challenges,
if we do not learn from life's lessons.
When trauma reverberates on repeat.
Words are as fragile as a beautiful ballerina,
without a ballad in a ballet of broken hearts.
Yet our pens crave to dance on virgin fibers.
Our souls are an essence of evanescent emotions.
There are no winners in battles with silence.
In the rationale of reason.
raging rutilant ink pleads to pour
puddles of purifying poetry,
gracefully releasing breaths of suppression -
A speechless saviour for timid tongues.
In eighteen seventy nine; twenty second of January
Was the day of a great battle and for the Zulus victory
At Isandlwana the Zulu army showed no fear
Against British guns, armed with shield and spear.
Twelve thousand warriors from the Zulu nation
Wiped out the British, a total annihilation
With such a large force the camp was soon overun
With hand to hand combat, under African sun.
Nearly a thousand British soldiers died that day
A few played dead and managed to get away
Some headed for Rorkes Drift never looking back
Warning the soldiers there of an impending attack.
Not far from the battle stood the mission station
By the Buffalo river a tranquil location
Five thousand warriors marched on Rorkes Drift
A hundred and thirty nine stood ready to resist.
Dispite wave after wave the British repelled their attack
With rifle and bayonet; they pushed the Zulus back
The Zulus regrouped and moved in for the kill
An officer gave the command to fire at will .
The battlefield was covered with the bodies of the slain
With spears, shields and blood all over the terrain
It wasn't until the morning of the following day
That the Zulus retreated and went on their way.
Eleven Victoria crosses were won at Rorkes drift
For courage and bravery; shown in that conflict
Five hundred Zulu warriors paid the ultimate cost
Whilst seventeen British soldiers in battle were lost.
Against overwhelming odds the British held the line
And Rorkes Drift today is a museum and a shrine
Tour guides at the site will tell you the story
Of those brave British soldiers and their hour of glory.
(The Victoria Cross or VC is the highest and most prestigious award given
to members of the British armed forces for valour in the face of the enemy.)
My heart was born a sonnet full of rhyme,
but the poet in me preferred free verse,
as syllable forms became a bore with time.
My heart was born a sonnet full of rhyme,
but the pen felt matching words was a crime,
as ink disputes led to writer's block curse.
My heart was born a sonnet full of rhyme,
but the poet in me preferred free verse.
What made you so special my freckle faced friend..
the day I heard you singing to a record, from your window next door.
Bell bottom clad teenaged knock out, with a ballerina's step..
In huge Cape Cod two story where dreams took form.
My mom hummed a tune as she ironed my best shirt..
Fumbled with your corsage, wondering why I chose red.
Last dance I remembered was always our first,
humbled by a mirage., in a golden gown dress.
Realized too late the secret your parents kept,
all the plans they'd made for you..
plain enough to see I wasn't part of them.
Not enough coins lined my pockets to set you free,
at least not enough for them to ransom you to me.
Some days found me prayin',
some I cursed right out loud.
Wonderin' does the one you share today in,
know the goldmine he had found.
Did he bring you eyes full of stars,
and promise all his tomorrows.
Realize what heaven sent gift you are,
never lament a heart left to sorrow.
Does he read them bedtime stories,
and tuck them into bed..
Listen to child borne wonders and worries,
every wild dream that fills their head.
And did you share those freckled hands,
every time you stopped to tie their shoes..
protect them with those same plotted plans,
your parents chose for you.
Do you ever hear that record playing..
among the distant stars that shined so bright?
New days come, battles lost and battles won..
lost in heartfelt wish that I'd been born..
that lucky seventh of seventh son.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The phantoms collide
with your seeds of sobriety...
Their cackle intensifies
(barometer of your successes).
The golden brook is within your reach
at your denim fingertips.
So, reach, dear one, reach.
Like a star searching for its sweet burning heart.
Full of life and the living sweetness.
Fight on and fight hard
swing your roses at the sword
You're not alone, you never were.
That bird in the clearing sings your victory song.
Reach for it through the briar
I'll meet you in the center.
In the bowel of the storm
and kiss away the blood of your battles.
CONTEST BATTLES
I am a child in weaving poetry,
trying and trying my arms of bravery.
Hundreds, I posted to jail your eyes
to cease a moment; raise your vives!
Diving to swim in pools of poem challenges,
I plunge to learn and thread the verses
unafraid to anyone, competing from no one but myself!
A rainbow topics curve to tickle my brain
even sending triggers to unlock any gain.
Contests' title to the extent blow my peace
with the inspiration that afire my train.
It ignites me to ink water and blood masterpieces
though some of the rules crack my skull
but yes! YES, still, I am all enthralled!
A mile long smile I have if my poem
bags the top podium place
with my name only one on that rank
as if I have done a slam dunk.
This means I understood the rules
and satisfied the judges' muse
but if I plank and my name none at sight--
a little dismayed then later I'm alright
Those honorable mentions,
those N/A's, no place even,
that I don't really care!!! Bleh!
(smile with tongue out! lol!)
THOSE ENCOURAGED ME ANYWAY:
to write and write!
to inspire others!
to free my thoughts!
to soar on places!
to paint in words!
Never quitting 'til I gain some points,
adding and adding tons of vibrant hues
to slowly, slowly relish a life breathing write
with a hope that soon-- kindles again a good fight!
©O. E. Guillermo
01:00 pm, December 26, 2014
Sponsor: Jerry T Curtis
Contest Name: The Contest
Placed 1st
With a shade of colourless eyes
Have I looked upon a world of discrimination
My nature is a rare form of uniqueness
And I defile every race by description
Golden hair on pale silver skin
An African white woman of Timbuktu kin
I have danced to the tune of my mockery
With teary eyes have I smiled at victory
Sharp edged stares may pierce me daily
Yet I walk head high and step most steady
Though the sun remains a foe that tortures
Still I conquer it with protective amours
I scowled at the honey tongues of lying lovers
Professing love only to taste my rare fairness
I read through their lines but read in between better
For this fragile,ignorant creature was fully harnessed
I have been belittled, scoffed and shaken
And redefined by several ethnic culture
I have been judged,ignored and broken
I have been worshipped,feared and obscured
But I created the burning hero in Me
And won my inner battle the greatest battle to be
For i embraced my deepest weakness
And savoured every drop of success
I am that nature's mysterious creation
A shortsighted being with farther vision
I betrayed my timidity and trampled its shell
I am a story and this story I tell
By: Adams O Elizabeth
Lizdiamond World Of Poetry
The people around me condemn and fight me;
Demons surround me;
confronts me;
My wrong choices,
Those cuddled distracted voices;
The battles I've led;
Being misled;
In good health and sickness;
My sins, my shame;
I stop and plead the blood;
There is yet someone who yet who love
Sickness comes
Evil people shun
They hurt you
Abuse you
Battles and wars
Bigotry discriminating
How am I to cope
I've lost all hope;
People warring;
Illness callings
The people around me condemn and fight me;
Demons surround me;
confronts me;
My wrong choices,
Those cuddled distracted voices;
The people battles I've fled;
Being misled;
In good health and sickness;
My sins, my shame;
I stop and plead the blood;
There is yet someone who yet who love
Sickness comes
Evil people shun
They hurt you
Abuse you
Battles and wars
Bigotry discriminating
Humanity hurts you;
Sins breathe and snuff me out;
Just be calm;
Don't be alarmed;
While your in this world of life
Figure it out;
Open your mouth;
Just call on the Father's son;
Jesus
The Lord Himself will fight for you;
Just be calm, for the Righteous one
Jesus
Allow Him, and He will
Open your mouth;
Just call on the Father's son;
Jesus
The Lord Himself will fight for you;
Just be calm, for the Righteous one
Jesus
Allow Him; He will
Fight those battles for you
Believe then receive;
6/18/20
WRITTEN WORDS BY James Edward Lee Sr. 2020©
Exodus 14:14
From Anthology " GOD YOU ARE MORE THAN A SONG "
The child, now sleeping, loudly snores.
The nightlight shines there on the wall.
If you could peer under the door,
The sight awaiting would enthrall:
It seems the toys have come to life!
They are engaged in no mere game:
A toyland battle to the death!
The superheroes are to blame;
The men in green have few troops left;
Their losses heavy in the strife.
With Duplo blocks, they barricade,
Regroup their forces there behind.
They inventory their grenades,
Make mental notes of where they've mined,
Prepare to meet their tragic end.
Magneto rises from the floor,
Unleashes his attractive beam;
The troops let out a racous roar,
for they are plastic, it would seem,
thus to his will they do not bend.
A team dispatched to try and flank,
To scale the chair, come from the back.
But Hulk awaits them like a tank,
Behind a pillow, sneak attack.
The spear is blunted, further thinned.
The captain, knowing things are dire,
Determines he will save the men,
and laying bare some lamp cord wire,
he challenges Magneto then;
His sergeant understands and grins.
Magnetic forces back in play,
the soldier runs, flips the switches.
The predator becomes the prey;
Magneto, arcing current, twitches:
a turning point in this grim war.
The flash of light wakes up the child;
she bolts up, eyes now open wide.
The spell is broken; meek and mild,
the toys, inert, lay side by side.
Her head back down, again she snores.
----------
So that's an ABABC DEDEC tail-rhyme, and kind of a fun one!
It’s a cold and bloody war
The heart has known many a fear... The eye shed many a tear
And dreams in wrecks have drifted back to shore
The war has been extensive, tumultuous in the mind
Towering over the weariness daubed across grey skies
Are only rare moments of joy fugitive that arise
Within the wall of the heart confined
It’s a cold and bloody war
The heart has known many a fear... The eye shed many a tear
And dreams in wrecks have drifted back to shore
I lead the brave but less cogent troops, with charged bosom
Knowing the sweet cry of victory will ne’er be sung
My blood’s infected with frustration’s venom
The foretaste of defeat is bitter upon my tongue
It’s a cold and bloody war
The heart has known many a fear... The eye shed many a tear
And dreams in wrecks have drifted back to shore
Out of despair I summon the troops to retreat
I recede to safe haven to draw a curtain
I quest horizons more promising to greet
And again engage in battle of victory uncertain
It’s a cold and bloody war
The heart has known many a fear... The eye shed many a tear
And dreams in wrecks have drifted back to shore
Read on air by invitation ~ April 14, 2021 'WORDS & MUSIC'
AP: 2nd place 2022, Honorable Mention 2026, Honorable Mention 2020, Honorable Mention 2021
Submitted on May 4, 2025 for contest MEMORIAL DAY sponsored by OLIVER McKEITHAN - RANKED 3RD
on December 23, 2018 for contest 2019 POETRY MARATHON MILE 2 sponsored by MARK TONEY - RANKED 2ND
Streaking skyward the tracers rip
Into hanging soldiers
Falling about into mayhem
Pulsing through blood-filled ears
Hearing comrades scream
Understanding nothing
This is the war I found…
Hatred filled hardened hunter
Into smashed building
Homes pulverized rubble
Strewn about the decaying mass
The scorched metal burning
Bodies of the fallen men
The miasma of war I forever inhale…
Tigers rolling through billowed flame
Firing upon burnt battlefield blindly
Retreating in terror I leave the voices
Calling as I my boots tamp by arms
Reaching for safety I couldn’t render
Brothers abandoned in the Arnhem snow
These are the ghosts of war who haunt me….
Battle’s percussion on the horizon distant
I fade through the fields upon the Rhein
Farmhouses glow a midnight path
Walking to the beat of gun fire echoes
Off the walls of a shelter a little boy sits
Unafraid of the man feeding him chocolate
In the crater of a bomb…
This flash of hope my salvation from war.
I cannot be judged by looks alone,
Not by the glitter when I smile and shine.
Beneath the light, I carry pain unknown,
Yet still, I seek to brighten this world of mine.
Does the spark I give bring shadows near?
Perhaps in sadness, hope and strength appear
It's strange how God talks to us.
Sometimes in the wee hours of a sleepless night,
Sometimes a sweet voice appears in the background music of the vaccum cleaner.
Maybe while driving home from a tedious workday with the radio turned off.
Maybe awaken from sleep words pouring from your heart and soul that makes you
Jump out of bed and scramble for pen and paper.
I'm not the least surprised that the words jump out of me,
For God has talked to me many times in this manner.
You see, they all have a common denominator. Its when you tune out the
Distractions of your surroundings that God can talk to the innermost parts of your being.
He leaves your heart and soul in awe as your mind comes back to earth.
No, I'm not a bit surprised that he woke me from a deep sleep.
I pray for him to talk to me. He knows I need his inspiration. It's like bread and water
To sustain me from the hum-drum of everyday living.
I'm not a saint by any means, probably worse than the worse, lowest than the lowly.
God knows me and he loves me anyway. Maybe I disappoint him with my selfish, stubborn
And sinful ways, but he knows I love him and trust him in all things. Jesus is my
Redeemer and salvation. He walks by my side thru tragedy, he is my healer through
All my sicknesses. My faith is strengthened in him until my back feels it will
Break into. Oh, what a friend I have in Jesus. A young man once said,"We young people
need to hear from our older generation the experiences they have overcome in all
Situations." "We hunger for your testimonials to help us to know what to do when
We are faced with our own trials and tragedy's."
Maybe, when God speaks to us, even thru poetry, the real circumstances that we have faced
He is only giving us the gift of being able to see the blessings that come from tragedy to
Make our walk so much more easy.
Lost Battles
Rubies and blue sapphires all winking in the sun
as they topple down the stream
today the bloodshed’s done.
Lo the fallen kingdom, the people all enslaved
wickedness upon them, not one will be saved.
Royal purple satin, overlaid in gold
carried in a babbling brook,
collecting river mold.
Lo the bloody water, the desecrated field
carrion birds as judges, and naught will be repealed.
Broken swords and broken shields are littered all around,
the body of a crownless king
is prostrate on the ground.
His arms are reaching toward the bank and nothing in his hands
outstretched toward a kingdom lost, upon the bloodied sands.
So kneel and pledge your fealty to the headless royal crown
join it in the depths below,
breathe in - and then just drown.
Or bow your head upon the blocks, the axe above you hangs
hunger for what once was yours, and suffer from the pangs.
No mercy will be given, no pardons and no grace
the foe is screaming at the gate,
“Surrender, show your face!”
The only option left for you is rise and try to run
or join the captive sapphires all winking in the sun.
10/13/16
retired
is tired
but desirous