Best Catapulted Poems
Until recently many had never heard of this man's name
But tragic circumstances have catapulted him to fame
A lawyer and a comedian then in two thousand and eighteen
He decided to become involved in the Ukraine's political scene.
In two thousand and ninteen he won the presidency
And vowed to maintain freedom and democracy
Once in office he worked hard, giving it his best
And wanted a good relationship with countries in the west.
Alarm bells rang in Moscow and a decision was made
Putin wanted the Ukraine back and decided to invade
He thought it would be easy and over in a few days
But didn't account for the Ukrainians, who didn't want the old ways.
He called on his people to bear arms and to stand up and fight
Thousands came forward to stand against Russia's military might
They had once won freedom and wanted to keep it at any cost
But Russian aggression then bombed cities with many lives lost.
It has been a week now the Ukrainians are not giving in
And sending a clear message to the aggressor Putin
Who's responded with barbaric acts of total aggression
And unleashed on civilians, weapons of mass destruction.
President Zelensky has been offered the chance to get away
But said " I'm fighting for my country and here I will stay"
Whatever the outcome of this conflict he will stay until the end
He's an honourable man and on one you can depend.
The whole world is behind him and holds him in admiration
He stands ready to fight and give his life for his proud nation
To retain Ukraine's freedom he will do everything that he can
And compared to the aggressor Putin he's ten times the man.
Written 3rd March 2022
Remember all the Wise Men on their knees upon your yacht?
With orphans on their backs they’d crawled (with others that they’d brought)
Through rubble on the highway sands and residues of Lot.
They came from severed cities selling postcards of your thoughts,
Though offered for a penny piece, not even worth a jot.
They mused
“How are you feeling? What it is you want, you’ve got.
The words you scrawl on calling cards: ‘I AM – the others NOT’
Shun wisdoms of the Seven Seas: ‘Salvation can’t be bought’ –
Your fathers tried before you and your fathers came to naught.
“You started out by gelding goats and then by casting lots
Of bodies to the battlefields, contorted, tight and taut,
Then wallowed in the wake of trails the dervish devil trots.
“With marching bands of fatherlands, and drums of Hottentots,
You lure your legions in harm’s way like giant juggernauts.
Like Tweedle Dum your minions come (the sober and the sots,
The troglodytes, barbarians, and mislead patriots,
The Vandals, Huns and Hannibals and seaport Cypriots,
The Japanese, the Congolese, Americans and Scots)
To vanquish bows and arrows, spears and catapulted shots
Of those who hide in bamboo huts their families, pale, distraught,
(Their withered wives with dried up breasts, their swollen babes in cots)
Who swoon, engulfed in poison darts and vats of acid hot,
Consumed by magic mushroom clouds, atomic megawatts.
“In churches of your deities, your Holy Huguenots,
Your Imams, Rabbis, Voodoo Dolls and Mitered Lancelots
Lit wicked kindled candled walls in temples (while we fought)
(Used pins and needles, magic spells on makeshift mock whatnots)
And mosques, cathedrals, synagogues have blessed each new onslaught
With prayers for pipers, puppets, pawns, your rigid armed robots.
Continued in Part 2…
You stood in the dock when the guilty verdict was read out …
Just a spotty youth with a cocky look in your eyes
Now sentenced to five years in prison, I hope you rot in hell!
The defence team tried to make out that YOU were the victim
You had drug and alcohol issues, which catapulted you into a life of crime
I had to sit there and hear about your past
Was I supposed to feel sorry for you?
What about me, the real victim…
You’d entered my house, hell bent on stealing what little I had
I handed over my widow's pension but you weren’t satisfied
Demanding more, you began shouting obscenities at me
You started trashing my house trying to find my jewellery
High on drugs - you were like a wild animal
Your fists rained down like bullets … you beat me senseless
My daughter found me unconscious, lying in a pool of blood
I spent weeks in hospital
Now I’m terrified of being on my own and have moved in with my daughter
I couldn’t go back into the house I so loved
You will be out of prison in a few years…
I have a life sentence
Through their eyes 2 – Sponsored by Shadow Hamilton
08~12~16
"Wondrous" this dynamic group,
That concocts their hearty poetic soup,
Then sit, then wait, always polite,
For comments that the others write.
But lofty are artistic goals,
As we bear our hearts and expose our souls,
And catapulted into heaven,
When we receive that cherished rate of "seven".
A "six" is like a pesky "B",
Like the one I got in chemistry,
Then pondered of my studious failing,
My heart and spirit, reeling, ailing.
Hunting sevens each new day,
New techniques, a different way.
Isn't life's adventure such,
We hunt our sevens way too much?
Comfort, silence, laying low,
I type this poem, a gift, although,
Should you love these words I write,
A seven will help me sleep tonight.
A breath of light and suddenly I'm lost. Catapulted by
a mesmerizing scene of audacious beauty.
I'm a ringtone of arrival on a magic carpet ride,
run me over with a feather, then let me repose
Life on earth unhems, I let go of the mayhem inside
sewn to the carpet of a foggy blue moon I finally meet
my muse *
face to face only we lay privy to this infinitesimal light
as it shines, shines, and shines;
inside a celestial palindrome
a madam of leisure *
nothing can censure me here
blast those blessed stars !
My glass life half empty,
Never like you or them,
Catalyzed by forsaken neglect,
Abandoned with the breeze,
Catapulted into your world of torment,
Sparkling spirit lost its glimmer,
Ebbing amidst flawed philosophies,
Breathing cynicism into existence.
Save me from this despondency,
And soothe my demons,
Requisitioning the essence of
My everything,
Pilfering what I'm meant to be.
Shadows of doubt,
Splintering my quintessence,
Inundated by echoing relics of my past;
Silence these fragmented reflections
That plague me.
Aching for the flicker of a
New dawning, to
Encompass every broken part of me.
Frank Sinatra’s name still has instant recognition even today.
He was perhaps the greatest singer of the twentieth century
And possessed those famous “Blue Eyes” and that trademark
Voice which thrilled and fascinated audiences worldwide.
For most people his music was very special and moved their
Spirits along a unique and subtle path that only Sinatra could
Create and hold with his voice—mesmerizing them and
Charming them every step of the way.
Entertaining and enchanting the audiences in America and
Abroad catapulted Frank Sinatra to a special iconic status as
A world-renowned singer, entertainer, and Hollywood actor.
Yet, singing became his common thread and link over decades
And generations to most willing audiences who hungered for
The tenor and pitch of his voice and his fabulous songs with
Most memorable lyrics, and haunting and evocative melodies.
Some legendary songs reflecting his status and long reach with
Audiences worldwide include: (My Way) (New York, New York)
(Strangers in the Night) (I Get a Kick Out of You) (That’s Life)
(I’ve Got You Under My Skin) (Summer Wind). All these songs
And many others were trademark, vintage Sinatra and brought
Audiences to their feet while he serenaded and captivated them
Like a Pied Piper, bringing each listener momentarily along with
Him as an invited guest into his very own special vocal dimension.
Frank Sinatra was part of the Greatest Generation along with other
Famous American entertainers who packed audiences and dazzled
Them with music and dancing, and created an aura of legendary
Perfection seldom seen in today’s twenty-first-century world.
Frank Sinatra—You’re The One!!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen,
Germany (November 10, 2014) (Biographical Narrative poetic format)
I wandered the vastness of the universe
Just to meet you here
I considered many life times to glimpse
Your adorable essence
I explored the magical land of Atlantis
Even the technological Lemuria
I lived a couple of thousands of years in Sumeria
And learned to spoke magical words
I lived with the hundreds of lambs in Syria
To learn how to live with them in the barren land
I was in Mongolia to learn how to cook food
And created my own menu
I was with the Emperor and Empress of Japan
To be one of their counsels
I was once a daughter of a peasant in Italy
Learned to live with a single meal a day
I learned to fly an airplane in France
And leave my profession for marriage
I craved to wrote songs in Canada
But still longed for someone I knew
I was with you in the battle ground of ancient Egypt
I learned how to kill and to be killed then
I tried to discover more about myself
Lived inside a cave of mountainous Indonesia
I entered the great temple of India
To learn how to be the master of my surroundings
But died when a mysterious epidemic spread
I created more thoughts and realized inside a cell in Chile
And killed myself for an escape to my wrong ordeals
I existed again to work on my rippled karma
I visited the temples of Tibet to find peace
I discovered how to heal myself
And every person I tormented
I roamed around the great City of Brazil
But to no avail I never saw someone like you
I remembered why I am here then
I still chased you in further ground of Incas
But nothing happened
You still left me for another person
I continued to soar within this land
And was killed while counting miles across the sea of England
I explored the lessons of to be abandoned
As I always waited for this love
I was catapulted again in the battle fields of the Philippines
Where I was killed in an ambush with my three comrades
Yet my desire never materialized
I returned here being wary you was out of life again
I decided to go back to the golden planet
But escaped before the capsule like craft flown
While have had a thought in mind
That I am expected you to came
And now finally we bumped each other again
This will be the last life I shall chose to see you
Since I planned long before this moment
I will be home where I am from
And be one with my sparks.
The myriads of unmarked graves in the cemetery
Presenting miserable image of human heartlessness
Uncared and unsung by near, dear all and sundry
Forsaken and abandoned, victim of unkindness
Which one of them holds my mother’s remains?
My angel, my lover, a philosopher, a friend
A melancholy child riding rough terrains
I for whom her eyes incessantly rained
I turned into a pauper with treasure of love gone
A symbol of despair with goals unclear
Relentless caravan of time said move on
And move I did trembling with fear
The nature held me by hand and catapulted in the air
The voyage of loneliness was hard to endure
Groping and fighting I reached where eagles dare
With anguish and pain and lost valor
The shower of Blessings and silvery rains of grace
Hoisted the flag of my fame and glory
Winning goals after goals in the formidable race
Life writing an enchanting story
Yet my eyes with tears blurred and hazed
My spirit weeps, my soul cries
I pray on all unmarked graves with my hands raised
Surely in one of them my mother lies
(My mother Begum Najmunnesa was laid to rest in an un-marked grave in Azimpura, Dhaka, Bangladesh. I am that unworthy son who is unable to identify her grave and visit the country to offer prayers)
Roaring in like a speeding train,
the twister left no time to flee.
And my house disintegrated
into pieces, all around me.
I'm catapulted from my bed,
while I'm tossed around like debris.
And in that whirlwind of darkness,
it was impossible to see.
The air was sucked out of my lungs,
and I passed out, thinking I'd die.
But I found myself on my back,
staring up at an angry sky.
'Twas a miracle I survived,
that tornado gave me a fright.
And I began to realize
just how lucky I was that night.
I got trapped under some rubble,
my legs pinned by a fallen tree.
But I could hear someone digging;
and thanked God, rescuers found me!
Etched in history, 23rd March 2015 marks the death of an architect of a small country..
When he passed away, Lee Kuan Yew left behind Singapore a most vibrant country..
His was 7 days of mourning to mark the passing for this towering personality....
It was only proper seeing how greatly this one man had steered his country....
Here in Malaysia, we look around for one of such a gigantic stature...
Though history tells us of Dr Mahathir and of his performance as Prime Minister..
Although the facts of history tell of his iron fist rule since day one...
This write is not to belittle Malaysia nor its patriarch of a Prime Minister..
Neither is it to praise the wonders of his 22 years that he administered. .
Rather this piece is a small effort to mark the passing of one statesman...
With supreme farsight and exemplary principles that answers to no man..
Save his beloved subjects in a brave little nation called Singapore...
Bereft of rich natural resources, this brave nation would have been poor...
Until up stood this man with an unwavering belief in pursuing the best...
Declaring Singapore has not the time to pause for poetry or the rest...
"Good, better, best, never let it rest, 'Til your good is better and your better, best"..
That in essence sums up how a tiny nation stewarded by an indominable Lee Kuan Yew...
Managed to outpaced the rest of the world to launch a tiny nation born anew..!
Rest in peace, O great man now that you're done on the earth...
Nations all world all over will rightly mark your passing here on earth...
This passing on of a visionary statesman who catapulted Singapore to greatness...
Leaves all of Singapore mourning your loss with unfathomable pain and sadness...
The world all over sings high praises of this extraordinary man of vision...
Rest in peace O Great One , you have well earned your place in Heavens..
One of the greatest classical composers was a Prussian.
Herr Bach went by the name of Johann Sebastian.
Laboring at his harpsichord, his compositions were many.
He wrote a rather short tune that was quite pretty.
It had an upbeat, allegro type melody.
His famous piece was the “Minuet in G”.
Along came three young women in the twentieth century.
‘The Toys” would become this trio’s adopted name.
One hit song catapulted them all to fame.
With a small band, they entered a recording studio.
Their production became a hit nearly everyone would know.
They sold many recorded copies of “Lover’s Concerto”
If Johann Sebastian were alive today, he would be pissed.
He could not get a copyright, and all those royalties were missed.
Inspired by a video from You Tube
You perforate my normality
with snap-shots of the past.
Images of yesteryear form
a slide show which interjects,
dove-tailing, sneaking in to
the now with the stealth of
the stealthiest fox.
Distracted from the present
my mind meanders down-stream,
pausing at a bridge arched over now
and then. Remembering when I was younger,
carefree, flitting between hearts,
scattering the lovelorn in my wake
like sown seeds, lost, never harvested.
Then flippancy of youth. The transience.
Easy come easy go -
before the burden of emotion takes its toll.
My fickle fingers touched your heart -
then dropped it, hot potato-like;
craved for then petulantly discarded,
out of fashion, gone, onto the next .....
Yet here you are merging then with now.
You found me somehow, and I you.
Back to the future. Time travelled
and catapulted into familiarity.
The perforation of normality.
Present in the present with the steel
of the steeliest fox.
Attracted to her since my youth
Like the swerve, sovereignly proud
Of an iron filing towards a magnet,
I had left free the reins of my fantasy
To let it weave a necklace of poems
To glorify the mystery
I had seen hung around her.
Fear, it was not, when we had first met.
Yet, the words failed to emerge from me,
Pointless though they would have been.
Such was the influence
Her presence had on me
That silence was the only edifice
I could rest upon
To feel the intensity of that instant
That catapulted me
Into a state of love and its longings
That give it wings, I knew not 'til then.
There was a penguin named Billy
Who had dreams which all the others found silly.
Poor Billy caused a lot of tension
Because there were things he needed to mention
No one listened to Billy.
While all the raft were doing their craft
Billy was coming up with his plan that they all called daft.
Oh he loved star gazing at night
Everyday he wished he could take flight.
He was jealous of the petrels swirling and swooshing around
Oh he tried, cried with frustration each time he hit the ground
Wishing he could be them
From this moment his idea did stem.
The rest of the raft heard of Billy's words
To be shunned because he was a different bird
His decision caused vicious derision
Not worried Billy still focused on his mission
To go to the moon on a giant spoon!
It had been a 4 year operation
The task code named 'Apollo Salvation'.
The emperor and king oh they did revolt
And protested against a penguin who didn't conform to social norms.
Billy lay back on the spoon
Leaving behind great darkness and gloom.
Launching in 10 seconds he tightly shut his eyes
Going to the unknown, a penguin forever immortalised.
WOOOOOOOSH!
Now catapulted miles in the air
Feeling weightless, now flying like a petrel without care.
Billy was now brimming
Flying seemed as easy as swimming!
Away from the surly ponds of earth
For this was Billy's rebirth.
For there were no more tensions, no more decisions, no more seals and orcas
Through his body there was now a wonderful aura.
Billy was always a free spirit, he loved mooning about
Now forever on the moon, day in day out just chilling out.