Best Before Poems
To all the pens I’ve lost before
That rolled off my desk and, on the floor
I’m glad they came along
I dedicate this song
To all the pens I’ve lost before
To all the pens I’ve once caressed
And may I say, I’ve held the best
For helping me to grow, I owe a lot I know
To all the pens I’ve lost before
Ideas in my mind were growing
And all those things I had to say
Those things and thoughts my inward praying
Etched in pen with verse I’d play
To all the pens that gave words life
That helped express love to my wife
I’m glad you came along
I dedicate this song
To all the pens I’ve lost before
To all the pens that inspired me
That filled empty pages with fantasy
They live within my heart
Always playing an important part
For all the pens I’ve lost before
With the wisdom each pen was bestowing
They helped me find the right words to say
Inspiration steadily growing
Why did the best pens never stay
To all the pens I’ve lost before
That rolled off my desk and, on the floor
I’m glad they came along
I dedicate this song
To all the pens I’ve lost before
To all the pens I’ve held before
From you I could not ask for more
Yes, I’m glad you came along
Without you I couldn’t write my songs
To all the pens I’ve lost before.
A parody of Willie Nelson’s song, I hope you enjoy.
When
When did a bed become your prison
I see your strength absorbed
Absorbed by the mattress
I turn you
Trying to prevent sores
Who would have thought soft sheets
White sheets
Could cut like glass
I hold on to you
The younger you
Remembering your smile
your vitality
I had thought you to be
The most beautiful woman in the world
It is said that boys fall in love with their mothers
What I miss most
Yes most of all is laughter
Playful exchanges
Those times no one else existed
The moments when we were the best of us
Before life became real
Responsibilities
Chasing of dreams
Growing up
I thank you for my humor
My irreverence
My questioning
My creativity
These were not accidents
They sprouted from the ground you nurtured
The listening
The time you spent
The cheering I heard as I lived my journey
I knew I could always come home
Now you are home
My home
Let me read to you my stories
We still have smiles to share
You who I love
Who cared for me
I will not abandon you to a strangers care
Endings matter
I will usher you to your beginning
This bed can't hold one as strong as you
One day soon
You will skip into paradise
You will pick daisies
You will place them in your long flowing hair
When the time is right I will join you
When I have accomplished all that I need to do
I will miss you
I will cry for myself
Not for you
Because I know
You live beyond this room
I will once again
Know
You are the most beautiful
Woman in the world!
Dedicated to my Friend Armand.
My inky echoes conflate,
atop mountains of ivory versos;
Blank pages into whispers,
like the sway of moonlight tides;
Papers dappled by my ineffable,
frays of jet-black cursive swirls;
My best ideas are forever found,
somewhere amidst silent worlds;
'Tis best to search for me right before,
the feathery quill touches to the page;
Arisen from the blotter, my hand held in totter,
but before I drizzle down the tar;
Where my psyche thinks loud,
with the rhythm and the rage;
A battle-ballet of coarse cashmere haze,
only then does my heart think to open up its cage;
Still I promise to always behave like a poet,
one who is the epitome of an idyllic odist;
Solemn ink be my savior, perhaps a mind lost in time,
resonant verse between blinks, my soul in the lines--
March 15, 2016
The sun is the sun
It rises we run
When it turns the nighttime to day
It's hot when it's cold
And never grows old
As our time slips quickly away
The sun remains the sun
The wind is the wind
It lays and it spins
And on, occasion will rage
Be it warm, be it chilled
Whether gusty or stilled
It changes from page to page
The wind is still the wind
The seas are the seas
Just water no trees
Yet harboring life below
They rise and they fall
But nothing forestalls
Their predictable to and fro
The seas are the seas
We think we see change
Ordinary looks strange
Perhaps, something new has begun
In the grandest of schemes
We're all chasing dreams
There's nothing new under the sun.
By Daniel Turner
5/7/2021
This is my interpretation of
Ecclesiastes Chapter 1 verse 9
...what has been will be again,
what has been done will be done again
there is nothing new under the sun.
Now I lay me down to sleep
In my home that's really sweet
Had three large meals and a snack
There wasn't a hint of any lack
Comfortable shoes and clothes that fit
My heart's desires my money can get
Friends and family know my name
So many opportunities it's just insane
Doctors and dentists, heat and air
A hope and a future.. No despair
Little chance I'll die before I wake
But if I do, my soul God will take.
But the homeless orphan goes to sleep
His unbathed body on a filthy street
Sold himself today to get a meal
From a slimy stranger with a dollar bill
No life, no skills, no future, no hope
No family, no friends, no heat, no coat
No shelter, no job, no doctor, no care
No money, no support, no help anywhere
Despair and neglect, a fight to survive
A shell of a child more dead than alive
And if this orphan dies before he wakes
Will he know my God his soul to take?
~Lyric Man
Note: Just returned from two weeks in Africa. I’ve seen the most amazing and the most tragic sights. This poem/prayer is a contrast of a typical western lifestyle to that of a fatherless orphan.
PS-I’ve basically been without internet for the past two weeks and have missed reading your poetic works. May you and I never take take for granted all the blessings that we have been afforded!
'Twas the night before Christmas
when I and my groom
finally found a motel
but with just one room.
My groom was in the bathroom -
leaving me alone-
so that he could douse himself
with some cheap cologne.
I - in my red negligee -
thought of bump and grind,
visions of his sugar plums
dancing in my mind.
Then a noise I heard outside
gave me such a fright!
who was out there in the snow
on our special night?
Opening our small room’s door,
I felt like a goof.
It was just an icicle
falling off the roof.
Then I felt a sudden breeze.
One unlucky bride!
As the door behind me shut,
I was locked outside.
When upon my motel door
I began to pound,
it was clear that my dear groom
did not hear a sound.
Right before my startled eyes,
what should then appear?
Someone dressed as Santa Claus,
filling me with fear!
His eyes, though not so cheery,
lit up, seeing me
as he crossed the street and came
stumbling drunkenly.
I stood helpless, trembling in
scanty siren red
when an icicle fell down
clunking my poor head.
I revived in the ER,
thong still on my rump!
Underneath my bandage was
an enormous lump.
Thankfully my groom was there,
smelling of Old Spice.
But we’d have no chance to give
gifts naughty and nice.
At our room I later saw
Santa Claus was there -
that same guy who’d seen me in
sexy underwear.
Having seen my accident
he’d informed my groom
right before he then collapsed
stone drunk in our room.
Santa on our honeymoon
with cheeks rosy red,
(but not one “Merry Christmas”),
stole our wedding bed.
12/8/12
Now used for Joseph May's
The Night Before Christmas Poetry Contest
As I lay down to die I can see my soul being taken
before my eyes.
I see God before me.
I feel the sun shining on me.
The warmth invades my body.
No more feeling of cold surroundings.
I smell the spring flowers from a field.
I see the mountains with their peaks.
I see God before me
I hear the waters flow so peacefully.
I see a lake that is so calm with the mirror of a blue sky
That is above me.
I see God before me.
I am at peace and have no needs.
I am at happiness made just for me.
I feel no pain and have no illness.
I hear the birds singing just for me.
I see God before me.
I am led by the hand through the field of harmony.
An Angel guides me with love.
A light blinds me.
I hear a symphony of Angels.
God is not before me now.
God is with me.
'Twas the night before Christmas' ...
And with finances dead,
No black number lasted -
Turned Rudolph-nose red.
My wallet, 'twas empty,
My plastic, quite maxed,
My bank account, zero,
My credit - gone, axed!
My back, like my money,
Was spent and inflamed ...
The gift-wrapping mess
Put a landfill to shame.
The stockings were jammed
With a slew of odd junk,
Tho' I don't recall WHAT,
(Being just short of drunk).
I'd hung them with care
'Bove the fireplace, but ...
They all smelled like smoke,
With the flue frozen shut.
My goodwill was doomed
For the shape it was in,
And my patience had left
With the last of the gin.
But bless all the guests,
They slept like the dead,
(Our sugarplums spiked
With pure Panama Red).
Perhaps I could sleep now,
Sans nightmares and fear,
Left dreaming the madness ...
Of Christmas ... NEXT year.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "The Night Before 2" Poetry Contest, Joseph May, Judge & Sponsor.
~ Poem of the Day ~ featured at Poetry Soup on December 7, 2019 - thank you, Admins!
My Beloved,
It doesn't matter
If it is I who comes to you
or if its you who comes to me
All that matters
is to be with you
All that matters
Is to love me true
Cause I' ve loved moons
that did not glow, before
And I loved stars
that did not shine
I drew two hearts
on sun-kissed sands
One heart was washed-out
by the night ~tide.
I lit a candle in silent winds
but has been smothered
by fog and mist
A dreadful sea-foam
stole my pearled sails
and with it
each endearing bliss
My Beloved,
I do know the trade of roses
for the crimson that thorns bleed
I embraced the pang of absence
when warmed eyes were not to meet
My Beloved,
It doesn't matter
If it is I who comes to you
Or if its you who comes to me
All that matters
is to always find each other
Cause our love is meant to be.
I no longer recall my yesterdays
or the ho-hum, mundane things I once did
The years I spent suspended in life's haze
Shielding the wounded heart, I shyly hid
Until perchance the day I found someone
Whose tender heart reflected shades of blue
He wore a dark mask, but it came undone
When I searched his sad eyes, twas then I knew
Our days were filled with laughter and great joy
Long nights consumed with passionate desire
No reasons to hide in disguise as coy
In the throes of love we gladly conspire
No trace of deep loneliness we once knew
No memories of the days ~ before you
Twas the night before christmas
and Christ was left out,
with no peep of the Good News,
no mountainous shout.
Stockings were hung
by the chimney the same,
but no one made mention
of the Savior's name.
On this sacred night
there were still shopping plans.
Their heart was poured out
through money changers' hands.
'Twas the hustle and bustle
of past Christmas Eves.
Once deemed a holy night,
now a den of thieves.*
Folks went into debt
for the pleasure to give,
not counting the cross
and what it cost to forgive.
Presents were plenty.
Wish lists were fulfilled,
but they didn't thank God
for the blood that was spilled.
An "X" had replaced
the unspeakable name.
Christmas without Christ
was now one and the same.
'Twas the night before Christmas
and Christ was left out.
The townsfolk had forgotten
what Christmas was about.
Merry Christmas to all; let Christ become your light.
*Matthew 21:12-13
And Jesus went into the temple of God, and cast out all them that sold and bought in the temple, and overthrew the tables of the moneychangers, and the seats of them that sold doves, And said unto them, It is written, My house shall be called the house of prayer; but ye have made it a den of thieves."
12-2-19
I stood on the step by the unopened door
Far from the meadows that precede the shore
Grasped tight the railing I longed to explore
Searching for truth in the lies
Looked at the mat as it welcomed me in
Wondering when all of this would begin
Washed up and worried and covered in sin
One that the world would despise
Juggled a dish after dropping the spoon
Spotlights were shining, they lit up the room
Still not enough for this unending doom
Praying the end would be near
Paced cross the stage as the audience stared
Thinking I saw one who looked like she cared
Checking my pockets for things that I shared
Knowing not what I might hear
Then like a siren but quieter still
Came forth a voice that presented a thrill
When on my spine formed the funniest chill
Just as she called out my name
Chris, was the echo, a melodic song
I have been waiting for you for so long
Something like this surely cannot be wrong
I don't care who is to blame
I took her hand and my heart skipped a beat
Who would have thought that an angel I'd meet
Me, oh so sour and her, oh so sweet
She must have come from above
Then I awoke with a yawn layered scream
Only a nightlight providing the gleam
All of this poem was merely a dream
Waking before I found love
Sunflowers and dandelions.
Sometimes in life it's a fine line.
We go outside to breathe the air.
Look around, try not to stare.
The little children play and run.
The girls are screaming, having fun.
Little boys follow along.
Learning the words to write the song.
A bouquet of summer's sweet refrain.
A timeless imprint on your brain.
To carry us into the night.
Beyond what sunshine brings to light.
After all the dreams come true.
But get lost in the dawning dew.
Only glimpses of love survive.
As you awake having to strive.
Finally finding out the truth.
About our fantasy's in youth.
All we wanted was a friend.
And a little love before the end.
No script
belonging one’s civilization
no history
anyone can recall,
only the enduring solid stone blocks
someone created to form this ancient wall.
A relic unknowingly
left to the woodland undergrowth
and those
that measure nature’s time.
© Harry J Horsman 2020
Before the sun's pieces,
Shine on brim's, coffee mug;
And with my prepping airs—
It's all jeopardy to
Roll frost in bed somewhere.
Before the sun's pieces,
Rain in a golden chain.
I pine at streaked window.
How bitter is the fog
From where night morn dreams go.
Before the sun's pieces,
Ice below the outside,
In a bristling gesture—
God, now I see in you
Past my bleak reflections.
Before the sun's pieces,
While dawn is watched by moon,
Sun has the grace to gleam—
He'll come in the long fade,
For his Moon maiden, seen.