Best Bolted Poems
I remember, oh how I remember
the years that have gone by.
Our doors were never bolted
our windows never closed.
Women had part-time jobs
knocking on doors all afternoon,
their comely voices bidding:
Madam 'tis Avon calling for you.
Meantime grandma would sit
outside the house and gossip
with friends who passed her by,
whilst we would wander all alone
in fun parks or green meadows,
flying our gaudy coloured kites,
and gathering cowslips for our dear mum.
Categories:
bolted, memory,
Form:
Free verse
I thought I had hooked the world’s largest grouper
After struggling for hours, I was still reeling
Refused help from a friend; I was a trooper
Somehow I found its resistance appealing
Hot sun on the Gulf had me in a stupor
And in my hands I started to lose feeling
It finally came into view just before dark
Was shocked to find a fifteen-foot tiger shark
He’d just been toying with me all afternoon
And he was more than half the size of my boat
I felt like a comic in a weird lampoon
My heart seemed to be rising up in my throat
Captain Ahab might have viewed this as a boon
But far too much weight did this tiger shark tote
He bolted, took off, stripped the line from my reel
And I had to cast elsewhere for my next meal
* For Thvia's "The One That Got Away" contest (True Story!)
Categories:
bolted, adventure, animals, seame, tiger,
Form:
Rispetto
Something minute had been carefully tucked away, it was a nut
Got loose, rolled helplessly away, had no direction afraid, she shut
Her eyes, and slowly rolled towards a destined force,
An eager bolt nearby bolt gave her the eye, she thought to pause,
She looked at him said hi, but continued to roll and to strut,
The bolt flirted outrageously with this shiny nut, that felt
Maybe he should be bolted onto her, but quick action was now due
The feeling in his gut sent urgent message, he whispered to
the nut, that next door, there was an empty little hut, she thought a bit
But excited so surprised, she rolled her eyes, was not about to quit,
They tumbled and bumped and arrived at the hut together, at ease
but excited, she coyly asked, may we use a washer please.
Categories:
bolted, time,
Form:
Rhyme
The bats in the steeple were feeding on people
By sucking the blood splattered wood
That came from the coffin a vampire dropped off in
When he’d drunk all the blood that he could
Here in my basement, my permanent placement
I lurk since the day that I died
At rest in my casket, my skull in a basket
My hideous grin gaping wide
Rats and mice squeaking a rusty hinge creaking
A slither of light from outside
My long severed head was rotted and dead
But gasped as the door opened wide
I lifted my lid as some hooded kid
Crept sneakily into my crypt
He soon spun about and he might have run out
If only he hadn’t have slipped
As he hit the deck he shattered his neck
I thought he was bound to be dead
But then as he stood, he lowered his hood
And then he un-swivelled his head
He gave me a wink as a hideous stink
Came gushing with smoke from his ears
He then started hissing through teeth that were missing
He looked like he’d been dead for years
I climbed from my tomb and stood in the room
Where demons would hide out all day
Until in the night they’d screech their delight
And frighten the vicar away
But this little fellow with skin that was yellow
And nails that were long curly claws
Let out a howl, an unholy wail
Then went back and bolted the doors
Like rattles at Wembley, my bones were all trembly
My teeth were all chattering too
My wee wee was dribbling and let’s not be quibbling
I thought I was going to poo
It’s usually nice that we can’t die twice
So people down here dwell forever
I then realised that everyone dies
And now I’m not feeling too clever
For my turn came first, to enter the hearse
My beautiful love left alone
In these years apart she’s been in my heart
But hell’s darkest hole has no phone
So how could it be this thing before me
Could desecrate my sacred rest
I needed it banished, It had to be vanished
Along with the worms in its chest
I watched every worm wriggle and squirm
I jumped at the twelfth hour chime
In life we take knocks through the ticks and the tocks
But we can’t fight the passing of time
So...
In spite of the stink, I started to think
Which gave me the fright of my life
I had to make room in a new double tomb
For that hideous thing was my wife!
Entered October 2021 in Your Personal Favorite No 2
Sponsor L Milton Hankins
Categories:
bolted, halloween, horror, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme
''Let their beaks be bolted
Till all breath their last''
Says Lord Gaga of our sky.
So when we eye a chick below
And perch on it recoveringly
To pet the wolves in our guts
Behold their crescendo:
Die,die,die ...
But Goodloot resides at other sky
Where with harps and hymns
Eagles lift lions like acorns.
So we shall ''do the needful''
Fly no more here but there
For there is the Princess' sky
Where eagles eat Everest
In deutsch built armoured cars.
Categories:
bolted, corruption,
Form:
Free verse
A Slow Hand, Deep Thoughts And True Pen
Each time I write of my crashed hopes and dreams
mind falls into black-depths, sends cold shivers.
Tempted to falsely praise my misdeeds and schemes
I return to my vow, embracing realm of true givers.
Such leaning towards positive and the good
once was abhorrent, not in my prideful style.
When lightning bolts struck me as they should
I found my life was a massive rubbish pile.
With pen and paper I then sought truth to tell
of life, love, loss and darkness once embraced.
O' yes, I did not hide my parades in hell
nor innocent young life I once so disgraced.
Years flew by and age gave its usual aches
far too oft, I swore to give my poetry up.
Darkness whispered, take well deserved breaks
porch lounge sit, empty thy hot coffee cup.
Ah, but my muse, she heard and was not amused
up she bolted, screaming like a raving banshee.
Reminded me of my past, my life I had so abused
what a coward I would be if I now sought to flee.
Pen in hand and regretful of my wasted past
I write to send some light and truth boldly tell.
Praying some good comes, a few words may last
redeem myself from youthful days dancing in hell.
8-21-2017
( Seek to do good and watch as darkness flees )
Categories:
bolted, art, creation, life, poetry,
Form:
Rhyme
Unable to somehow escape this castle of want
As an apparition endlessly roaming its corridores
From room to room and door to door; up and down its spiral staircase
Looking at the paintings upon the walls, of another era, gone by....
Desperately seeking something inside, of these bolted moments
Trapped within its confines of self imposed?
Fairytales of created desires; born upon the pages
Of the now, once upon a time....
Sitting in front of the Venetian vanities looking glass mirror
Lights aglow and brush in hand
As voices resound all about, within hushed tones
Whispering a myriad of marmoreal; which haunts her past
Eyes penetrating beyond these reflections; caught behind their closing gates
As a hand reaches out amid the darkness
Her once again trance, broken, by its gentle touch....
Rising from her Victorian armchair, to embrace, his offering of love
The prince of longings arrival ~
Adorned in the jewels of promises long ago written
Across the predestined of the parchments, blood red heart
Two souls colliding....
Crossing these barriers; to the always, of meant to be
Holding the magical key, to these chains that had bound her
Within the chambers of the castles walls; which only he, could ever unlock!
Beyond the balcony of never never lands, forbidden forest
Apparitions of dreams once dreamn't; sealed, forever, between the paragraphs....
As upon a white steed they ride, unto the sunrise, of happilies ever after ~
Into the awakened hand of fates, land of the enchanteds, "Love," forevermore!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The crumbling of ebonies tower....
Categories:
bolted, friendship, happiness, hope, love
Form:
I'm phasing in a recurring monochrome dream,
velvet whispers lead me to a sonorous stream,
translucent visions fall as vibrating showers,
retracing footsteps on trampled golden flowers.
Fragrant lullabies guide me on bronze ferns,
a flamboyant willow guards the deserted turns.
On a dilapidated porch I pick dry hazel leaves,
under pungent moss, the tattered garden grieves.
A wavy shadow moves behind heavy sepia curtain,
why I stand in an unknown place, I feel uncertain.
I ascend the staircase of my fears to a bolted door,
a withered rosette of memories remains on the floor,
beyond the entrance are mementos of a family in past,
a photograph fading those faces but smiles would last.
A crystal chandelier sings of days lost in aged time,
strange that I find familiarity in the echoing chime.
My pictures on the impervious roof in white appear,
bewildered I run to the frozen window dripping fear.
Oh this mind is a decaying house I visit in reprise,
only to chase shapes of love from tears in my eyes.
July 16, 2020
Decaying House Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
~Winner: 1st Place
Categories:
bolted, analogy, dream, house,
Form:
Rhyme
Closed doors
Especially if they are bolted shut
Why refuse to move on?
Why do you keep knocking at that particular door?
As if your very next breath depended
On someone answering
On someone opening
It is closed for a reason
Maybe your destiny is not behind that door
Stop knocking
Stop forcing your way in
Change is good
At time a necessity
To find your place in the world
Move on
@084024122014
Categories:
bolted, change, life,
Form:
Free verse
Once upon a happenstance
I gazed, a look, and paused in trance
To dream upon a crystal palace
Her heart aglee and form to chalice
With towers true and field in view
I set a course to give tongue to
I crossed the field - anxiety smote
And walked upon this palace mote
Yet, as I firmed, my heart to pour
She drew the bridge and bolted door
Categories:
bolted, allegory, funny, lost love,
Form:
Couplet
'Twas a dark and stormy night! (OK - so I'm being a tad histrionic!)
The Earl of Pence was lounging by the fire sipping his gin and tonic.
Lightning flashed and thunder roared sending shivers down his spine.
Even his hound, Lord Percival, was so upset that he began to whine!
'Twas well-known thereabouts that phantoms haunted the earl's castle,
And on such frightful nights they were bound to cause a spooky hassle.
Nefarious deeds had occurred within Penceshire Castle walls in the past,
And were replayed in 'spirited' form leaving generations of earls aghast!
A shriek from the bowels of the castle sent the dog into howling fits,
And brought the earl bounding to his feet, scaring him out of his wits!
The blood-curdling screams were from a former Earl of Pence who in 1642,
Was hung by his thumbs in the dungeon for a fair maiden that he slew!
Suddenly, the ancient organ in the hall began playing eerie chords.
Heard on the floor above was rowdy dancing by ladies, knights and lords.
Ghastly emanations from the past paraded through the terrified earl's room,
Antecedents all, leering and grinning and predicting the anxious earl's doom!
Lord Percival sensing trouble long before, across the moat had bolted!
The storm subsided and the apparitions faded leaving the earl quite jolted!
He felt a bony hand upon his shoulder that took away his final breath.
'Twas his valet who offered a gin and tonic to the earl who now lay in death!
Categories:
bolted, england, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme
In homage to Mr Poe....
He dreamt a dream,
a violent vignette
a sorry scene,
he could not forget
He rose from his rest
and bolted the bed,
but the visions he'd viewed
would not leave his head
He set to scribbling
those terrible thoughts,
thinking that would
be the release he sought
He penned a poem
of the saddest sorrow,
a vivid volume
of terrible tomorrows
He wrote those words
in an ink of tears,
with a pen of pain,
on a sheaf of fears
He trusted those thoughts
would salve his soul
so he'd sleep soundly
in his hole
But when he woke
again next night,
his heart now had
a fearful fright
He saw in waking
the very scene
that'd in his sleep
afore he'd seen
As he looked on
his horror grew
and as he watched
'twas then he knew
Now, in his room
the dream did dwell;
it truly held
him in its spell
This cursed vision
of fear and fright
now ruled his mind
both day and night
But then, he saw
the candle burn
and his fevered thoughts
began to turn
He took the pages
that he did write
and held them to
the candlelight
The words began
to dance about
and leapt from the page
with a mournful shout
The pages then
burst into flames
and ran round him
chanting names
'Oh Lucifer,
Beelzebub,
Sammael
and Belial'
'Baphomet,
Mastema,
Lilith and
Azazel'
The words whirled round
and round his head
as he lay quivering
in his bed
And as he watched,
he came to see
his own body
floating free
He began to spin
at such a pace
no longer did
he know his place
He'd spun so fast
by this evil's throttle
he turned to liquid
and was quickly bottled
And now he waits,
he sits and thinks
of when another
will use that ink
To write a poem
of pity and pain,
so he may yet
be freed again
Categories:
bolted, dark, dedication, evil, fantasy,
Form:
Rhyme
My Gallery
In upper part of my body
A cognitive bell rings
From a dial-up connection
of live wires
The modem is working just
To repeatedly provide
the facsimile of
Barren and bald paths
Inner lumbering of daily freight
Coiling, clutching upward
There is no vivacity
The vital force has parasited
How I inhale life?
My days and nights are bolted
Inside a brain cell,
My voice has held back
It lays a plan to brawl my soul
Residing in my own skull
Dictates notes imitating my tone
I couldn’t disintegrate my recall
As my shadow has left me
There remains Just I, me and myself,
Why is my brain a black hole?
Could it not be a universe?
Of a constellation of migraine, tablets
Syringe, backache and insomnia
Dream has become a dead pattern
As worn out as fossil led glow
Everything has become identical
Except the weight of consequence
That has variations of endurance
As I go through perdition
My imbalance will be rectified
Hang my art on the wall
As after allotted time
My gallery will end
Categories:
bolted, 12th grade, body, conflict,
Form:
Blank verse
To soar, take wing, take flight, glide ~
Be detached, apart from this life's reality
Where past sorrows shroud my remembering
To seal the heavy door to the past
And to flutter on the edge of dreams
To tremble, hover, grasping, peaceful and happy
In imagination, floating and drifting
Like a breathtaking butterfly with gossamer wings
But then, but then ~
The cold fingers of the past come creeping
Monsters, ogres, beasts of the long ago
Memories screaming, shrieking, shattering my soul
The beautiful lost in the carnage
Oh the tears, the weeping, the eternal floating sadness
The heavy door to the past is bolted, secure
Impenetrable with many padlocks and thick chains
Where anguish and bliss entwine in an endless battle
And happiness died long, long ago
But from time to time, whispering
A single memory finds a way
From under that weighty door locked, chained
And I crush the sweetness to my broken heart, weeping . . .
_______________________
April 28, 2013
Poetry/Free Verse/I would like to fly away
Copyright Protected, ID 04-474-158-28
All Rights Reserved, 2013, Constance La France
Categories:
bolted, dream, memory, sad,
Form:
Free verse
the door has been closed
it has been bolted and locked
don't try the window
my heart is secure
your words are no longer "keys"
soul sanctuary
image is tarnished
no longer will I welcome
a fallen hero
Eileen Manassian
Categories:
bolted, dark, death, hero,
Form:
Senryu