Best Break Loose Poems
A funny thing happened on the way to my hanging
Couldn't sleep the night before my head was banging
I was innocent of a crime that I did not commit
But they roughed me up and got me to admit.
The face on the wanted posters said it was me
Anyone seeing those posters would be inclined to agree
I was in a horse drawn prison wagon with bars down the side
Thinking to myself, it will be my last ever ride.
Heading for the gallows then onto Boot hill
To pay for shooting a bank teller that I didn't kill
Two miles from the town all hell did break loose
Unbeknownst to me I'd be dodging the noose.
For ten desperados' brought the wagon to stop
Then ordered the guards, their weapons they drop
Some gang members got me out and they set me free
The gang leader approached and he looked just like me.
He said " in this life you look out for your own "
Then he told me something that I hadn't known
" We were Separated at birth and we had the same mother "
And that this mean desperado was in fact my twin brother .
" We heard that you'd been framed for our crime spree
But you are my brother and that's why we've set you free.
The teller had died because he went for his gun
We grabbed all the money and went on the run ".
He gave me some money and said " start a new life "
Told me head south, settle down and find a good wife
There was so much I wanted to ask him and so much to say
My brother said " some other time, best be on your way " .
Written on 4th July 2018.
For a funny thing happened on the way to...poetry contest, sponsored by Robert Haigh.
To The Brink For The Ink Crack Like Fissures
Another page scarred with ink. Upon her page, I see red ink
branded by the thoughts I think. Tattooed thoughts, that make me think
My mind imprisoned, feel the burn, Within intricate patterns, my heart it learns
past the point of no return. As I slip off her ledge, my spirit churns
Faces bob like buoys in an ocean, For her mind, it is an ocean
I'm sea sick to societies motion. I'm lost upon, her wave like motion
Clutter intoxicates my brain, Intoxication, it fills my brain
filling me with failure and pain. Strange impressions, as I view her pain
Forcing sleep deprivation muse, bubbling from my mind, feelings break loose
cigarette, pot and coffee abuse. I'm transported back, to my own abuse
Five A.M. and the pressure is strong Crack like fissures, emotions strong
to make these words move along. I feel I've known her all along
My audience awaits but I'm still She grants me audience, within places still
writing rhymes against my will. Her rhymes resonate, until I bow to her will
Blocked by need I'm suffocated, lungs filled fully, never suffocated
my joy becomes what I've hated. She’s one transcended, not filled with hatred
I can't escape the vines I've grown, a climbing flower, I've see how she's grown
notebook prison, I cry alone. With her notebook open, she's never alone
All this angst and misery, She transcends angst and misery
all for the love of writing poetry. Within her glowing landscape of poetry
Casarah Nance Richard Lamoureux
September 14, 2015 September 14, 2015
Dedicated to the Artistry of Casarah Nance
Wanting to shrug off this shell, break loose from me
Silence that damn hermit, hiccuping under his tree
Trapped inside too long, dormancy dreams to wake
Disgorging bubbly lava, fills in soporific landscapes
Longing to escape soft tissue, cast off mortal bones
Break shackles of mundanity, rid life’s infernal drone
Out there lies all answers, beyond the hermits void
His space mostly perfect, til our Big Bang destroyed
Go forth and multiply, primal stars hypernova like hell
Filling a cosmos with elements, configuring him as well
Hold your tongue hermit, stop humming about in bliss
Stay quiet down that hole, cease fumbling at the abyss
Deeper and deeper, below where basements depress
Sits an altar of incremental tables, poets go to confess
Forget truths algorithm, they’ll fool any polygraph test
And the hermit lies all day long, he meditates for a rest
Breathe in, breathe out, forget about terminal breaths
Don’t underestimate the ether, chants a monk in Tibet
Fill your mind with mindfulness, peace will set you free
Watch them hiccups abate now, our hermit’s all at sea
February 6th 2023 / 2022 Poetry Marathon Qualifiers'
FINAL Placement Poetry Contest / Sponsor: Mark Toney
Arise! Oh Heart, from the catacombs of the dead
Shake off the dust, for Life beckons you like a buddy
Peel off the weariness that wraps you like a shroud
And walk to the open to perceive the light.
Arise! Oh Heart, from the dungeons of gloom
The dawn is at your door step, waiting to break
Sing with the lark, merrily warbling in the woods
Dance with the billows, wildly prancing on the deep.
Arise! Oh Heart, from the ghettos of bondage
Break loose the ropes that moor you to the past
Dart through the panorama of the cerulean blue
And fly high into regions, uncharted and new.
Arise! Oh Heart, from the citadels of hate
Listen not to the shrieking and howling behind
Drink from the goblet of conciliating love
And rejoice at the birth of a dawn with promises galore!
A black cloud envelops my sky
Threatening to rain down a torrent of pain
Oceans of commotion swirl in my brain
And I try to bandage the wounds in vain
I see only the receding vistas of light
And night prowling like a stealthy thief
The past chills the mind like hanging icicles
And I feel so heavy with frozen grief
I inch my way up like an ugly snail
My life is riddled with contradictions
Oh, I am waylaid, lost and beaten
From every corner, I meet only oppositions
Yet dreams break forth in my heart
Amidst darkness shines a light
A call to spirit to seek the gift of recovery
Transforming pain into strength and delight
I must break loose of all the tethers
Let my soul embrace all that is dear
From this cage, I must fly out
The sky beyond me lies blue and clear!
Even at moments when we feel,
God has forsaken us, time assures;
However bad things are, recovery is possible,
When God is there quelling all our fears.
Now I am on a journey of redemption
I tell myself- “Come out from this hell
Just start anew, nothing is beyond recovery
The dawn is near and all shall be well”
"If there is a place where peace and stillness prevail, to it people like to retreat when beset with the perils of life. It can be our home. In every storm it is a refuge, a haven of joy and a sanctuary of life and light" ~By Poet
We have a snug retreat far in the woods;
An interim sanctuary, not bigger than a robin’s nest.
But cozy and comfy for just two souls,
A hideout from the fuss n’ fever of life.
It has a small garden hemmed with a hedge,
Neatly laid out in décor and taste
And gleaming with refreshing verdure
The haunt of butterflies and honey bees.
An ideal place to sneak away now and then,
From life’s pressing cares and concerns.
Here the air is pristine sans soot and fumes.
A confluence where peace and beauty unite.
Here we break loose the tethers
From the rigid civilities of urban living.
Throw away the habits of reserve
And become joyous and free-hearted.
Sometimes we make an impromptu trip.
Sometimes we plan it well in advance.
Whatever it be, being here is fun
And enjoy our stay like a weekend picnic.
On some evenings we go gathering,
Succulent fruits and wild berries
And roam to the wide stretch of open fields
Lying furrowed waiting for seasonal crops.
More than ever we now seek solitude.
It is in the quiet and not in the noise,
That we can plumb life’s depths,
That we listen to our hearts’ songs.
It is here our souls acquire dove’s wings.
Though time has taken its toll on our bodies,
Though youth and beauty have gone forever,
Still, we walk in the woods with hands clasped.
In this sanctuary, we breathe free and find comfort
Where sunshine scatters through the canopy of trees
And are sheltered from the pressing responsibilities of life!
Who are you, my Lord?
And what am I standing here as a weather-beaten tombstone,
O Lord, reveal yourself to me on the tombstone standing here alone.
Long, long ago
Cain averted his face from the light,
the condemned river, surrounded by a dead
Cain laid atop of his own brother, flows into the valley
carrying the curse.
And the condemned river flows to the dark side of the sun
since the time Abel’s blood cried out.
My eyes grew so accustomed to the darkness
and, thus, though I am no longer able to stand in light,
I face you, the Lord of the origin of light,
standing here as a tombstone.
O Lord, are you the very person whose voice I hear?
are you the man who is rolling and tossing on the ground
under the out-pouring lashes who moans:
“forgive them,” each time I call for aid of my destiny?
O Lord, are you the one who crawl on the path
that leads to the Place of the Skull
in the mixed air of cries as the fools shout,
mockeries of the evil ones affront,
and the useless tears the women shed?
Are you the one who mutters: “forgive them,”
while falling under a rootless tree
for the weight of the tree is too great to bear?
For the good nature of humankind is numbed
by the weight of sins too deep to break loose.
The emotion of human kind becomes cold and cruel
and, therefore, O my Lord,
do you groan with pain unbearable:
“forgive them,” when those stone-hearted drive spikes
pierce your hands with no compunctions?
Are you the one who stands as a decaying wooden pillar
on atop of Golgotha with a darkening sun on your back
to close the shamefully-mistreated hard life,
the miserably-humiliated painful life?
Are you the benevolent kind-hearted one who looks up at heaven,
and at mobs who accused you, appealing with tearful eyes:
“Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.”
When the wooden pillar collapses from its own weight
and darkness falls onto earth to cover the unsightly world,
I, the tombstone with no name or epitaph,
see a sad image standing atop of the Place of the Skull
tightly holding the world’s anguish.
I’m locked inside a place so very small
I do not fit inside it physically.
And yet it somehow is consuming me.
At times, I feel I can’t break loose at all!
My arms and legs were not bound up by rope.
I’m not behind some door with heavy chain.
In fact, I am not forced here to remain.
So why do I stay trapped like some big dope?
And can you guess what has a hold of me
and steals my precious evenings hour by hour?
Whatever could it be that wields such power
to rob me of the time with my TV!!!!
A little progress I’ve begun to make
as less and less I’m trapped here recently!
I’m taking baby steps. It’s up to me
to free myself. Poor habits I must break!
I must stop being such a nincompoop!
set limits on myself; take better care
of me; get sleep, and not just sit and stare
at this small box that drowns me in the Soup!
(note: this is not a slam against Soup, but rather
just my frustration at myself for devoting so much of
my time to it; I honestly love every minute I am here!)
For Dane Ann's Contest:
"Being Trapped and Breaking Loose"
1
Oh, gentle child, how doth my heart still burn
thine absence half a decade spent in vain
to break the bonds that tie, that fett’ring chain
that holds me from embracing thee, thyself in turn.
Thine all enchanting smile, piercing eyes–
thy flailing arms, the limbs, with rhythmic stroke –
responses soundless to the silent words I spoke
to thee before from thee Fate forced me from thy cries.
I watched thee grow through temp’rate times of yore –
remembering the gall’ry of my mind.
‘Twas all I had.
2
Oh, gentle child, how doth my heart still ache
thy presence all too far in distant land
where careless arms push thee with calloused hand
away from mine where once I swore thee none could take.
Thine eyes with tears I shared I shed alone
so thou might never feel the agony
the anguish, loss of my identity,
thy father, thee my offspring, daughter, dearest one.
I watched thee grow through chilling times, and more –
remembering thy portrait in my mind.
‘Twas all I had.
. 3
Oh, gentle child, how doth my soul yet yearn
those many hours oft upon my breast
thy head thou laid safe harbor for thy rest,
thy questions, mind alert, thy hungering to learn.
Thy voice I hear through dreams and zephyr breeze,
thou lark by morn by eve the nightingale,
as Dawn and Dusk, Aurora without fail,
thou hast my heart and soul kept warm with ease.
I watch thee grow, and will, forever more –
remembering thy sculpture in my mind.
‘Tis all I have.
4
Until we are as one renewed
some future date somewhere awaits
when thou her servant dare to flee
that which with thee so long accrued
where here I love and there she hates
that wily witch who bindeth thee.
Break loose those prison bars that bind
thy tired wings that flap in vain –
Renew thy pledge at length to find
thy youthful freedom once again.
Then shalt thy flags fly high aloft
while eagles scream thy freedom song,
while robins chirp with redbreast, soft –
all a capella – pure and long.
Then both our souls shall share their peace,
a father and his daughter, found
to spend their lives on borrowed lease
to live and die on hallowed ground.
Thus, take, Tai-Ana, this, my prayer
that fathers and their children hear
of this solemnity
that children here and everywhere
ne’er shed a sad though soulful tear
for all eternity.
[Finis]
trawlers steam out from dutch harbour
patroling the frozen waves
serching for gold under the sea
to feed my family
in the wheelhouse the stars shine in
skyes dark and air so thin
no mater where this vessel takes me
my heart is yerning out for you
heaven on the water
is where im dreaming of my love
i see your face on the misty spray
as im calling out your name
heaven on the water
it wont be long my love
for a few more days i know you`l guide me
guide me home to you
icey winds shiver my spine
as we bring out catch abord
empty net and broken dreams
as the waves come crashing down
storms break loose with a crash of thunder
rolling across the bering sea
up and down around then under
but still i dream of you
heaven on the water
is where im dreaming of my love
i see your face on the misty spray
as im calling out your name
heaven on the water
it wont be long my love
for a few more days i know you`l guide me
guide me home to you
i see you face as the boat goes down
sea whispering my name
beconing me to the river
where we first found love
heaven on the water
im still here my love
watching you and our daughters
from the stars above
heaven on the water
calling out your name
calling out your name
heaven on the water
calling out your name
PLEASE GIVE ME A TICKET, I'M READY, HE SIGHED.
I'M READY TO TAKE THIS FERRIS WHEEL RIDE
I'VE HEARD IT'S THE FASTEST AND TALLEST THAT BE
SO GIVE ME A TICKET TO SEE WHAT'S TO SEE.
RIDING IT'S PETALS UP HIGH AND ALONE
CIRCLING MADLY IT'S BLOOM IS A THRONE
OIL, IT'S PERFUME FOR A SQUEAK AND A SPIN
OH WHAT A FLOWER TO BE RIDING IN
ALL THE WORLD STAYS BELOW LIKE A FAR AWAY DREAM
THAT COMES ZOOMING UP CRAZY LIKE AN INFINITE STREAM
OF COLORS AND MAGIC THAT BLOWS THROUGH YOUR HAIR
EXCITING YOUR SENSES UNTIL IT'S NOT THERE
IT'S A THOUSAND EYED GIANT, A WINKING OLD MAN
TUMBLING YOU HAPPILY ALL OVER THE LAND
COME ON MR. WHEEL, BREAK LOOSE FROM THIS SPACE
I WANT TO GO TRAVELING ALL OVER THE PLACE
WE'LL ZOOM OVER TREES AND BOUNCE ON SOME CLOUDS
AND I PROMISE TO SIT STILL AND NEVER BE LOUD
OH PLEASE MR. WHEEL, I'LL BE YOUR BEST FRIEND
AND GREASE YOU AND SHINE YOU RIGHT UP TO THE END
WE'LL SOAR THE WORLD OVER AND COME BACK AGAIN
HAVING SEEN ALL THERE IS IN THIS FABULOUS SPIN
THEN EAT CANDIED APPLES AND NEVER BE SICK
AND BE HOME BEFORE SUPPER ALICKITY SPLIT
I sat next to an old geezer on a park bench
He looked at me, said "I can see you're a mensch"
Let me tell you what I've learned in the past 80 years.
"Oh no", thought I, but his words flew like spears:
"Who can fathom the deviousness of the heart
To know the mind from the face, there is no art.
Woe unto them that call evil good, take it as a clue
If they can't anchor themselves in the obviously true
Some claim darkness is light, and light dark
If you follow that lighthouse, you'll end up in a shark.
Prepare in advance, no practice leads to error
A peaceful scene then sudden terror
Never underestimate the fury of the wicked
It will come, as the prophet predicted.
You can work too hard, and not work smart
Get your sleep, take a walk, create some art
Your health must survive any deadline
Nothing achieved when a sprint is followed by decline.
The old man paused, took a sip of juice
Maybe this was my chance to break loose
I looked for a polite way to flee
But I was exhausted from my weekly game of Rugby.
"Death and life are in the power of the tongue
Words can cut deep even if sweetly sung.
There is no safety for good men, but to believe the worst of those
who when given two paths, the evil one chose.
Be slow to anger, make sure you understand
Incompetence rather than evil, often rules the land.
If a man comes to kill you, kill him first,
But seek truth and be wise, lest the roles reversed.
Do unto others as you want them to do unto you
Often they want their side heard, their point of view.
Hear out the extreme, the foreign, the new
For in the unexpected, there may be wisdom to pursue.
Hypocrisy is the tribute vice gives to what's good
We can't always live up to what we should
"And last," he said earnestly "I must preach
To think before talking, be concise in speech
Don't give strangers advice, for all our sakes
Especially if like me, you made endless mistakes
Be aware of your own contradictions
Know that reality is stranger than fiction.
"Thanks geezer", I said, "but I gotta go
"In the rugby game of life, you must have been a pro
In my hurry to leave my foot fell into a drain
All that advice, and now I have a sprain.
When I see him I just want to be real with him and finally act on some of these images that I
been thinking. He makes me want to do things that i've never done. I want him so bad that my
body aches. Such desires. Such wanting. Such hate. Hating that I can't act on my feelings. I
have only a certain amount of control and i'm about to break loose. What am I to do desire is
controling my every move. desire.
Blinded by love,twisted in pain,i didnt think id ever be his victim again,replied when im spoken to,done all that im told,all his meals cooked on time,his washing i fold...look after our children,several trips to the shop,my life aint worth living,wish his drinking would stop...Try my best to help him,try not to get in his way,oneday ill take our children,and have somewhere safe to stay...Cant handle his slaps,the punches,the mental abuse,free from his clutches,i need to break loose...I deserve to be happy,just like my friends,not stuck in this rut,where abuse never ends,i just need my freedom,to do as i please,not cowering in a corner not pleading on my knees...
I love to hear you speak
Ever if your voice is just a squeak!
Anything is better than this quiet,
I may go out and start a riot!
Do you think I'm too fat?
Or are you just being a brat!
Do you want me to fall flat?
Sorry but I won't do that.
Some days you will never speak-
I feel like throwing you in the creek!
Are you showing a mean streak?
Or has someone tied up your beak?
I know you're just a goose-
But that is no excuse
For all this non-verbal abuse,
Come on, let me hear you break loose!
Honk! Honk! Honk! Honk! Honk! Honk!
LOL
Just a little fun with rhyme and story. Hope you enjoy.