Best Beat Back Poems
You are a bright fallen star from the mesmerizing sight up above,
You make my tender heart pump pure blood of joy with just a minor glance,
If only you would grant me the blissful privilege to call you my love,
To my painful despair your angelic nose is pointed to the sky and you look down upon me,
If only given the honour to acknowledge my existence that craves your mystical romance,
But because of my economic status and laughable looks me, you shall never see,
As more than a dirty petty jester who could never compare to your immense power,
I am foolish to ever have thought I stood a pleading chance,
To you your majesty I will forever bow down and cower,
Until I feel your heart beat back then I shall manoeuvre into my sprinting stance.
June 12, 2018
Rhyme Time 4- 10 Lines Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Laura Loo
3rd Place
Categories:
beat back, desire, devotion, heartbroken, longing,
Form:
Rhyme
Whatever happened to breakfast, lamented French Toast
People love me, gushing with syrup, I used to boast
But now my brand is flat as a pancake
~ as popular as a post-Halloween ghost
A dozen eggs beat back tears as they sat in a box
while patrons flocked toward the cream cheese and lox
Once a staple of a sound start to the day
~ now bagels and doughnuts hold sway
There there's whole milk and butter
lovingly culled from Betsy's best utter
Given way to that nebbish 'skim milk' and oily margarine
~ at their pale appearance I just shudder
But at least I pack my children a solid lunch ~
Peanut butter sandwich, corn chips, and twinkies to munch
Categories:
beat back, food, humor, loss, nostalgia,
Form:
Rhyme
Nightmare, Translation of Paul Verlaine’s Cauchemar
(Translation of Paul Verlaine’s quintilla : « Cauchemar ». As usual, I have tried to stick to the original’s stanzaic format and rhyme scheme. T. Wignesan)
In my unfurling dream I saw it happen
- The way the hurricane lashes the strand –
A two-edged sword whirling in one hand
An hourglass in the other
This knight rider
Come coursing through Germany
Down through towns and the open country
And from the river up mountain free,
And from forests to valley lone
This stallion
Ebony black and red as flame
Sans bridle, nor bit, nor rein.
Ne’er a hup ! nor crop, constrain
In the midst of deafening railing
Unfailing ! Unfailing !
Long plume adorning a huge felt hat
Kept in shade his eye which up it lit
And then it dimmed. Such as in the mist
Explodes and dies this blue flash clear
The weapon fire
As when the white-tailed eagle’s wing
As might by a sudden storm sting
The air streaked with snowing,
His fur coat out-raised distend
Beat back the wind,
And disclosed with an air : glory be
A torso sombre and of ivory,
While in the black night free
Through strident neighing : dazzling beneath
Thirty-two teeth.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
Categories:
beat back, dream,
Form:
Quintilla
Echoes of A Victims Plea
The fires burn on; the polemics fuelled
More crocodile tears from the politicians who've duelled
To capture the lens of the Press.
But our loved ones cry that simple tear
For those of us whom they loved so dear
.........Immortalised (they) nonetheless!!!
Now the cruel sea with arrogance
Beat back attempts by those who chance
Their lives to bring us back.
But just leave us here, within our grave
We're not all strong, all bold, all brave;
We're souls - it's just life we lack.
15 July 1988
Categories:
beat back, angst, bereavement, conflict, eulogy,
Form:
I need the ocean to protect me,
with its pounding surf.
Able to beat back,
my strongest fears.
Building sand castles,
up to the sky.
Standing behind its ramparts
defending my soul.
When you are away from me,
I need to oean.
Categories:
beat back, love,
Form:
Free verse
Strikingly Naked
By Odin Roark
Voicing the reflection one sees insures
the facade really is,
was,
must have been.
Time passes…
How smoky the reflection,
this aging identity of accumulated distortion,
where once perception played innocently,
found disguises to hide behind,
who now past the age of innocence,
sees the exposed abyss of shadowed deceptions.
Such awareness knows well the mirror,
where cognizance of the make-believe
beckons the right light,
the flattering shade,
the required eye-sparkle of denial,
no matter the reality.
At some point…
Behind the rehearsed and performed persona,
we raise the inner window
revealing the self-of-fact,
that place where we gulp
what air is left,
sucking up any reserved willingness
blowing in from subterranean shores
to help beat back our self-imposed exile.
One surges forward…
Pulls open the only door
the entrance we feared opening,
an opening your inner monologue
always whispered was there
but you chose to remain imprisoned
by the mirror.
Revelation…
The door now open,
leads to other doors,
so small they seem
as you bend, crawl,
find other rooms,
windowless cubbyholes,
where night sweats
and endless reprieves
once kept you breathing,
albeit your own recycled dead air.
How rewarding…
To see for the first time,
your own recidivist delusions
reverberating like shattered emulations,
blinding your eyes with its refractive light,
burning through regrettable behavior imprisoned,
where no steel bars were ever necessary,
where a place of truth awaited,
a wilderness you are finally ready to explore.
Such is the manifest moment…
When you couldn't be so strikingly naked,
had you not kept yourself so carefully dressed
all those years.
Categories:
beat back, truth, vanity,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Butterfly Haiku
Much fun I would have
If I were a butterfly
On nice haiku tree.
Sure seems so little
Was born with beautiful wings
To attract a mate.
Had found a flower
Which was pretty as can be;
Like no other one.
Days start and are done
And butterfly that I love
Went to sleep in bed.
Wings beat back and forth
As he flies from here to there
With no fear or care.
One day he did die;
My beautiful butterfly;
Life had reached an end.
James Thomas Horn, Retired Veteran
Categories:
beat back, butterfly,
Form:
Haiku
Some image of hate or frustration
The needles anguish you may have chosen
To stick and jab
In a collective spasm
The agreement to solicit such action
And beat onto the wall of prejudice
The same nails you are crucified with
Some sacrificial lamb to carry our burden
The complicit blindness we accepted
Was someone else’s oppression
The fine wine and sumptuous celebration
We were belly full
On their starvation
But we will weave the spell of the Voodoo Doll
And hate it as much
In case we turn that same hate upon ourselves
We will not dare to look into the eye
Of a luxury bought
By the empty stomachs of children
No
We will choose the ragged doll
The faceless and nameless
With which to beat back the stabs of conscience
We will seek relief in pins and media incantations
We will sing the hymn of hate
And burn the Voodoo Doll
We will accuse everyone
And anyone
To avoid accusing ourselves
While every ounce of petty desire needs to be fulfilled
And the craving for more titillates this bored and uninspired ….. imagination
So pushed to the back of our collective mind
Walks the living, breathing, little brown person …. skeleton
And every mouthful, so sweet with instant gratification
Is a mouthful of ash
In our soul
Did you forget your soul ?
It is your very own Voodoo Doll
Categories:
beat back, forgivenesshate, hate, prejudice,
Form:
Free verse
We are far from the hum, but not far enough—
Worlds not of our making intrude – life is rough.
Winter birds are not wheeling in the steel gray sky—
Seems seasons bring questions, but no good day to die.
Unlike black and white westerns, there’s no good end—
We may beat back bad men but die without a friend.
Oh, we all wish that things did not turn out that way—
But God is not silent and has the final say.
Categories:
beat back, cowboy-western, death, inspirational, introspection,
Form:
Cowboy Poetry
In commemoration of your eighteen years
I will weave you a story fit for all ears
Of a special girl who is very much loved
A precious gift who was sent from above
A fallen angel who we are blessed to be
That her soul chose us, her family
A cousin, a sister and above all a daughter
Who has delighted us all with years of her laughter
But the road for this girl has not always been clear
At times she has been filled with a great fear
For to bear the weight of life’s choice’s on your shoulder’s
Your feet sink in the mud and the inner fire smoulders
It is from those ashes that your inner phoenix does sore
Bringing back the light and hope and oh so much more
The path of your life, untrodden is unique
You will blaze down that path, to any goal that you seek
With determination and an iron will
Your strength of conviction is a special skill
She knows her mind and what it is that she wants
She will never give in to life’s do’s and don’ts
For her to live her life the way that she needs
Sometimes she will be forced down on her knees
It is at that point her strength will shine
And it will guide her through life’s complicated design
She must forge on ahead, beat back all the doubt
Its the choices we make that sets us out
For life is full of sheep, directionless and lost
Always searching for the life that they want the most
A part of that group she will never be
For she is too clever, too much like me
She fights for herself and others she loves
Her soul is as pure and free as a dove’s
This is my weaving, filled with warmth and light
The life map of a girl who I have kept in my sights
For only eighteen years it is that she’s lived
I look forward to all the rest, the greatest gift she can give.
Categories:
beat back, family, girl, life, girl,
Form:
Epic
My soul cries out
For freedom lost, for songs silenced by doubt
In the shadows of man's fair wisdom's grip
My voice fades, unable to let it rip
I have no freedom!
My words wither and dreams grow tense
In cloistered moments, lips parched and dry
Longing for release, a desperate cry
I call upon God, to cleanse the pain within
I pray in the darkness, hoping to begin
A new chapter, a fresh start, to cut the knot
But still, freedom remains a distant spot
I tried purifying my eyes with relic poems of old
Stretching the soul, searching for the untold
Yet finding nothing of the little boy I once known
Lost in a world where truth is overthrown
Singing soullessly, a song of despair
Trying to beat back the pain, to repair
But hope dries up, like tribal drums long gone
Leaving me to mourn, to carry on
I have no freedom! The words echo loud
In an empty shroud
Yearning for release, for a chance to be
Free from the chains of man's fair decree
Categories:
beat back, conflict, cry,
Form:
THE COMPANY YOU KEEP FALLS APART
I’m talking to myself again. I love me.
Sorry you don’t. Apologetic for words
beat back the devil with a baseball bat.
There is a dark spirit here. Push it in to outer space.
I’m going to be bright and orbit around the moon
like a sun god. Crazy talk is her communication style.
Bite her and she’ll love you forever. Growing up
we have to fit in to these molds of what a girl is.
When you look at them up close they are burning.
Bust your balls and do it if you get one chance.
I learned about my feminine side through welding.
People think I’m going to snap and kill.
I should shake them. Nobody wants to listen
to the bad. They want to be happy. Tell them
you don’t know if you’re phony or genius.
Say it simple. Make idiots understand. This is a guide
for those that need to hear good things. They don’t
want to hear the full story. Don’t be an animal.
Do a midnight sex scene. People are mean. Stop
making me mad with your pissed off jeans.
Put your big boy pants on and smile.
You’re pissed off because you notice me
see me as a threat. Get over it. This is my jungle.
I’m so insecure I’m a mental condition.
Live life and relax. Judgment is a waste of time
when exercised poorly. Mother gun, ray of hope,
light bath get arise. Your soul is crying for sex.
Categories:
beat back, absence, abuse, age, anti
Form:
Ballad
I beat back the shadows
all day long
for I know now
the right from wrong
a master student
rightfully so
this light disciple
expects to know
the way of a broken soldier
when the load is too much to shoulder
the back gives in from
all the weight
am I'm left sitting in
that familiar dark place
I greet the doorman
who lets me in
shake his hand
with a familiar grin
I know his presence
will bring much laughter
after all the darkness
knows whats the matter
a well known tango
to a fiery soul
I've been this way enough
to let it go
I step over my body
when it's had enough
sometimes I feel doomed
but it's just bad luck
I'm bad as ****
I know how to be
skating on a line
I drew up for me
can't relive yesterday's dreams
nothing I tell you
just what it seems
Too many people
too many freaks
too many eyeballs
staring at me
staying under a halo
I keep it simple
its as though I've solved
one more evasive riddle
Categories:
beat back, adventure, allegory, art, depression,
Form:
Free verse
In a picture I saw city kids on a hot summer day
It could have been any city like New York or Chicago
Kids are having a feast of fun, laughing with worries none
The sidewalks are lined with gazers and onlookers
Smiley faced children were keeping cool in what looks to be an
open trench filled with water at an abandoned construction site
Perhaps the crew took a break from the heat, for heaven's sake
It reminds me of a different time, another place, and other faces
Like in my poor and rural hometown, it appears they too had no
neighborhood amusement nor a cool community pool in which to play
But like us, they were joyful and happy in the middle of the street
They did not feel underprivileged as they beat back the heat
Neither did we as we swung on ropes from bankside trees
and jumped into the polluted muddy waters in a country creek
Times have changed in cities and rural communities across the land
But kids everywhere in all walks of life continue to play through the heat
08242017PSContest, Hot Summer Day, Eve Roper
Categories:
beat back, america, children, poverty, summer,
Form:
Couplet
I am sailing on a ship to Endpoint Isle
The waves are fierce very high
Blown by a wind has flecked and scarred the deck
With folds like dried old skin
A gull plummets down then up
Thrust sky-high alike a crumpled page of yesterday's news
I've dizzy-staggered to the cabin where stands our captain
All in white his face testament to completion
I would be put ashore and this request on tongue-tip
But somehow all is as should be
I stand at last resigned
Watch the roiling sea
The journey now seems endless with little let-up
Save moments when the waves beat back upon themselves
And when the salt air stings
I know that I am still alive
Categories:
beat back, death, imagination, loss
Form:
Free verse