Best Beck And Call Poems
She Wore Blue Dress, Flowers Her Laurel Crown
She had only soft blue skies and romance
Attending angels at her beck and call
A golden life, with nothing left to chance
All her lovers came from Valhalla's halls.
A beauty, with glowing emerald eyes
With red lips begging ravishing desires
A true vixen, fallen from moonlit skies
Siren setting hungry souls on fire!
She wore blue dress, flowers her laurel crown
This I confess, her kisses honeyed gems
Remember her in lush silk morning gown
Brightest golden thread adorning its hem.
Her red lips, havens of hottest retreat
Hands begging to be held, heart pleading more
Manna, a lover would relish to eat,
Visions of paradise's welcoming shore!
She had only soft blue skies and romance
Attending angels at her beck and call
A golden life, with nothing left to chance
All her lovers came from Valhalla's halls.
Robert J. Lindley, 6-01-2020
Romanticism, ( From A Memory, A Vision, A Youthful Treasure )
Note:
This poem was inspired by my reading of Lady
Labyrinth's truly magnificent poem, titled-
"Horus in Paradise", this is my tribute and
homage paid to a very, fine poetess, and for
such an inspirational poem that gave rise to me
setting pen to hand and composing on the spot.
Syllables Per Line:
10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10
Total # Syllables:200
Total # Words::::140
Edit - Awarded Poem Of The Week- 6/07/2020
Paul, Peter and the Tweeter
Why not choose,
a billionaire leader?
One who is not
an eloquent speaker.
Trouble rises,
he robs Paul to pay Peter.
The bold rich need tax savings,
forget about the meeker.
From a distance,
we watch the kingdom teeter.
Him smirking on high,
he thinks "What could be sweeter!"
Why oh why,
did so many choose that cheater?
Global temperature rising,
things aren't the same.
Scientific facts need hiding,
isn't that a shame?
There's new logic he's applying,
says coal dust isn't really flying.
Even though the fish are bitter
and you can't see them under the litter,
no one can turn down the heater.
"Fake News" he says,
check out T-Man's Twitter.
The Country is "Great Again",
cause he ain't no quitter!
Yet people are making less than their babysitter.
Good jobs will go with free trade,
might as well become a waiter.
Otherwise you’ll starve sooner or later.
People happy,
he wants to build a wall.
Mexico will pay,
so build it tall.
More immigrants?
You don't need them at all.
But no one left to pick the fruit,
or to be at your beck and call.
Watch it all fall,
for sure the economy will stall.
No one buying nothing at the mall.
Meanwhile
Klu Klux Klan standing tall.
If they ask him,
T-Man will let them guard his wall.
Look for all the signs,
a leader who's a hater.
Mastertweeting, flatulater.
A logic lacking debater,
self-loving,
self-promoting, congratulator!
If he pushes the button,
we might become a large crater.
He'll spin it and tell those left,
"I'm the great emancipator!"
If you don't believe him,
You’re just another disloyal traitor!
My grandma was a steeple jack,
Of heights she had no fear.
The crowds would gather round to watch.
They came from far and near,
To see her swing and pirouette,
Doff her hat and wave.
And gasped and cheered each time she feigned
A slip and then a save.
Roof-toppers winced and bit their lips,
Tight rope walkers screamed.
Treetop loggers looked away
At the daring they were seeing.
Women gasped and children shrieked,
Fearful she would fall,
But at full ascent a massive roar
As she stood upon the ball!
She blew a kiss to the those below
As she turned around with ease,
Then there atop removed her scarf
And cast it to the breeze
But the crowd went wild as before their eyes
They viewed her final feat…
Into a handstand Grandma rose,
Then she waved and kicked her feet!
Whether flag pole, steeple, TV tower…
My grandma climbed them all.
For the freedom felt there in the clouds,
She was at their beck and call.
That grand old gal inspired me
Her legacy I've retraced.
Now I too dance upon a pole
At a club called Mary’s Place.
They called her the Fire Woman
for wherever there was fire
she was there
In the Fall
when all
the brush needed clearing
in Spring
when everything
else needed to be burned
she showed up, smiling
beguiling flames
to her beck and call
Her tall, brown-skinned frame
'though lean and weathered
and stooped a bit
was still powerful and somewhat
imposing- not so much in
her physical presence
as in her demeanor
and the silent
sparkle
in her amber eyes
as if embers
from the flames
were in her spirit
and fire itself was in her soul
She was old
no one knew her exact age
or much about her
except that she loved
to play with fire
and it fell and rose
to her every whim
No one could lay claim
to controlling fire
but her...
and then him-
A strange romance
between the Fireman
and the Fire Woman began
a love that revolved and
flickered around
their common passion
for flames
one who started fires and
one who put them out
without a doubt
it was intense heat
that drew them together
But unlike young lovers
who easily get burned
they were slow and steady
patiently tending
their home fires
taking care to control
and manage the blaze to
gently keep it going, and not
let it get too cool or too hot, but
just right for a brisk, chilly night
Two old flames
burning toward the end of life
keeping each other
from the cold
You are the earth and you are the mother
You are my Durga - you can multi-tusk
Of your children, let me be the father
You work really hard, from dawn to dusk
You are my Durga - you can multi-tusk
You play so many roles - in daily chore
You work really hard, from dawn to dusk
Raising children, doing your job and more
You play so many roles - in daily chore
Mother, teacher, daughter, friend, wife and all
Raising children, doing your job and more
You are present - at every beck and call
Mother, teacher, daughter, friend, wife and all
You are perfect in each role you perform
You are present - at every beck and call
Let's worship Durgas and make it a norm
You are perfect in each role you perform
Of your children, let me be the father
Let's worship Durgas and make it a norm
You are the earth and you are the mother
08.03.16
Durga is the principal form of the Goddess, also known as Devi and Shakti in Hinduism. Durga the mahashakti, the form and formless, is the root cause of creation, preservation and annihilation.
My dedication on International Women's Day.
(10 syllables per line)
- “Oh, no! not in spring-time! Summer, winter or fall!
No, never could I leave you at all!”
From the song “If Ever I Would Leave You” from the movie Camelot
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qqTveSQoKZE
A Legendary Love
In a special place, Camelot,
a legendary love blazed hot -
forbidden love that came to naught
for Guinevere and Lancelot,
King Author’s brightest, boldest knight
who sought the love of the king’s bride!
Passion could not be denied
although Guinevere so tried.
One kiss - their love took flight!
A spell was cast; now more alive,
than ever, they could not deprive
themselves of that which made them thrive -
that magic for which they would strive
to meet in secret, lest they burst!
Into each other’s arms they’d fall.
Joyously they gave their all,
for at passion’s beck and call
were two with endless thirst!
Her hair of gold; her face so fair.
Sir Lancelot could never tear
himself away from their affair,
and Guinevere, how could she bear
to let her soul mate walk away?
They lay when leaves or snow would fly;
or ‘neath spring or summer sky,
proving passion could not die.
What price they were to pay!
For Love STory contest of Silent One
Eve T.M.M. is a sweet Canadian gal
A product of the wild wild west
Living between Edmonton and Calgary
Imagine as a cowgirl she's dressed
Riding frisky stallions and lassooing steers
Roundup time on Circle M Ranch
With the majestic Rockies off in the distant
A loud Yippy-Ki-O she does chant
Now my friends, I could be totally off base
Eve may just be a simple city girl
Perhaps just a sweet down to earth real lady
Sending rancher's heads in a whirl
Well I'd like to think she's a sophisticated lady
With servants at her beck and call
Wearing a diamond studded evening gown
Dancing the night away at the ball
Eve T.M.M. is a sweet Canadian gal
A product of the wild wild west
© Jack Ellison 2015
Too many days of torment have come
I lower my head and bow I’m done
For I once knew of a life so grand
From wide blue oceans to every land
I have no rhythm, and no cadence
I fly, my mind is free
I leave you here, you torturers of souls
and body, you can never have the real me
For in my heart there burns a flame
And in my head lies chemistry
The element all at beck and call
In these eyes a light you’ll see
I shine on you in sun dust particles
reflecting spectral colours back at you
I will live in you, will thaw
the cold, will make you human
A kaleidoscope of colours you are
mixture of cosmic dancing stars
the rainbow over heaven awaits for you
no matter the distance that you stroll
And when we end, take our place
in this dark night, or dawning light
You will remember, and smile
We will be together in eternal memory
No greasy treats from chippie van;
I have my starch now au, gratin
with blasted, deconstructed bass,
petits pois, served; in Demi tasse.
No pint of best down at the pub
I drink with chums now at the club;
Prosecco, or a Chardonay
depending on the time of day.
No picking up the kids from school;
done by Au pair now; as a rule;
she turns up in our four by four
dressed top to toe in old Dior
No visits to the Home Depot
I have ten craftsmen now in tow;
who add things at my beck and call
to my enormous stately hall.
No need to visit family;
They all now want to come see me,
drink all my wine, then use the pool;
methinks they take me for some fool!
There's nothing left that I can buy;
so why, you ask, that big old sigh?
I have new friends, but here's the rub;
I miss my mates down at the pub.
Yes, being rich is such a bore!
Flipped hourglass: a slipped tide or a passed second,
Has moved, like drop in a flowing river, beckoned;
Hourglass, an automaton, cannot run itself,
Humans must be at its beck and call, like an elf...
Flipped hourglass: a slipped tide or a passed second,
Has moved, like drop in a flowing river, beckoned;
Hourglass, an automaton, cannot run itself,
Humans must be at its beck-and-call, like an elf...
Times bind; we are bound; we at the mercy of time;
Wrist watch ties us; rather, us tying its chill chime;
With time we slip; unable to follow its flow,
Flipping with it we flip; our movements being slow...
Doesn't flip hourglass denote human existence?
With its fleeting, flowing and flopping in tight, tense;
Sand filled in is like air puffed up in our body,
Leak enough to leave the clock and body, shoddy...!
I had an hourglass, so smart-looking, glamorous!
I admired its function, and almost stood speechless;
My obligations and dead-lines remained undone,
Sand slipped; I slipped with it unknowingly; Like fun...!
Flowing with the time we could flow the time for us,
Buddha said, none can dip in the same river twice;
Time is fix flex flux; changing, churning, endlessly,
Pleads us to care it; keep going eternally...!
28 January 2022
Pick-A-Title, Vol 28 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Our Felicity knows no rest and was
Often admonished by her Head Nurse.
It happened one day she was out for an errand
When a small boy was admitted to emergency.
With little thought she hurried to help,
forgetting she had no gloves on, nor a face mask.
The boy was very sick and required great care.
The Head Nurse realized something was going to happen.
Both were put in isolation separately. Felicity's
First symptom was a high fever. Blood samples were taken
And examined with urgency. A deadly bug had attacked them.
Immediately she was put on two drips, one for dehydration
And one to combat the bugs. It would be a slow recovery.
No one was allowed near her and she became weak.
In Malta, we say illness enters in tonnes and leaves in pounds.
So was it with Felicity. Gone was her smile, her singing,
And she became quite thin. Her father became a wreck.
But God has His ways, and slowly she began to recover.
Finally, she was discharged but with orders from the Head Nurse.
You are not to come to work before my consent,
You will not lose your job. But you must eat and rest.
Her parents were at her beck and call.
He bought her a comfy sofa, a large television,
And a blue comfortable Outdoor Hammock Chair Hang Swing
Erected under a large oak tree that was blessed with a breeze.
Soon but slowly she regained her smile, her good-looking figure
And even ventured for short walks along the winding river.
She learned to appreciate her birds’ singing and the lovely blooms.
She began to frequent gardens and admire the various flowers.
Finally, after some months she was allowed to resume her work.
The Head nurse was adamant. Morning shifts only for a while,
With fixed hours. No extra work and no emergency visits.
She still attended church but changed her tune to
God will find a way. Blessed be God.
This poem is fiction but taken from my experience with life in a hospital.
They In Love, Both Sought To Teach
They in love both sought to teach
hearts melded together each to each
Spritely wind in each blowing sail
both wished same, coin in the well
Standing determined hand in hand
weathering every storm in this land
She feeling deeply his every fall
he racing to her every beck and call
Old age found them together strong
walking side by side right on along
She turned to help him as he slowed
he kissed her hand, her smile glowed
They in love both sought to teach
hearts melded together each to each
Failing wind now in each blowing sail
both wished same, coin in the well
One Spring day neither rose from bed
his arm around her, both lay quite dead
Robert J. Lindley, 03-18-2015
There isn't any reasoning
With a soul that's lost their way.
Clouded by an air of deluded thought
But then the devil saved the day.
No one seems to understand him
Not in the way that I do.
For when you lose all meaning of life
Any way ahead you will pursue.
So a pact with the devil he offered me
A life with him eternally.
To dwell in the fires of hells abode
But my soul was no longer mine to be.
But at the time it felt so right
Because of past year's in struggles fight.
To now only exist in Lucifers home of hell
That In eternity I now live in his spell.
An easy route to take
When your at your lowest point of all.
And when there seems no other answer
Except to be at re devils beck and call.
Copyright © Anna Sabrina Tate | Year Posted 2016
Family is a noun,
One that connects
Me to you.
Bound by blood
And DNA.
I looked up
To you.
I thought you were
My heroine,
Come to save me
From the aches and pains
That rocked me
To the bone
Far more than what was known,
To sweep me away
From all my
Nightmares and fears
Monsters and tears
That were all too real
To deal with in the
Daylight.
Let alone the
Twilight.
You were a monument
Of beauty and grace
Strength and compassion.
Everything I could ever
Hope to be.
But then
I started to see
Past the cracks
Of your porcelain face,
Behind your false grace,
Deep down where
You truly lay.
And I realized
How little I knew
Of the true you
Besides the bad habits
That you keep
When you refuse
To eat.
And when I hear you
Scream and weep,
Gone is the strength
You used to keep,
As you try to
Convince yourself
That her love is true.
Because you love her too.
And I realized
Love is a verb.
One I hadn’t seen you
Act upon in quite
Some time.
Show me,
Don’t tell me.
Because as you claim
That you love me
And you love her too
There comes a time
Where you have to draw
A line between
The word and
The action.
Because you don’t
Know me either.
You know I will be
There at your
Beck and call
Wreck and bawl,
But you refuse
To hear a word
Or try to see into
My mind
The way I try to see
Into yours.
It’s not revolution
I ask for.
It’s simply evolution.
As I hear your cries
For help
I’m suffocating softly,
Because I know
It’s not help you seek.
It’s pity.
And it’s a pity,
Cause I’m out.
Now it’s time for
The kid in me to
Grow
Up.
You were once
My heroine.
Now I can see that
You don’t even care
Enough to be my
Villain.
With red and purple sunset
melting into blackened sky
The hummingbirds have bedded down
and shortly so shall I
As crickets sing their lullaby
into a dream I fall
The things of night begin to stir
at moonlight's beck and call