Best Championed Poems
Like the pompous pied piper leading the way,
chirping his tune of a dawning new day,
frustrations were championed, oh how we followed,
the ego stuffed shirt of a suit cold and hollow.
From the top of the hill, he showed us the view,
convincing our eyes it was harshly askew.
Nearing the cliffs as if caught in a spell,
he fed us like lambs from his poisonous well.
Touting sweet taste of his truth well embittered,
ignoring the signs of nonsensical twitter,
rot with the smell of the nations decay,
we drank from his cup of a water so gray.
Watching and waiting for gifts of his gruel,
the masses assured we were not made a fool,
his promise of greatness was all we could see,
with great expectations of how it would be.
There's no turning back once we swore the man in,
believing bright futures were soon to begin,
blinding frustration gave evil its day
for the pompous pied piper to lead us astray.
He led us to thinking, all driven by fear,
then gave his directives so cryptically clear,
stripping the values by which we would stand
before the American dream had been banned.
Addicted to all the attention and glory,
swiftly he moved to remain the top story,
insisting on walls made of concrete and steel
built by the anger and hate we should feel.
Then some were shaken, disrupting his spell
and found he was stealing our Liberty Bell.
The fog began lifting and soon we would see
the piper exposed as the fraud he would be.
Time has a way, proven over again,
of playing its imminent part.
The shedding of light upon every mans soul,
exposing his darkness of heart.
No longer seduced by the piping we hear,
choosing to see through the veil,
Democracy once again fights to survive,
let us all pray we prevail!
-Jeannie Cronin
Categories:
championed, america, change, corruption, death,
Form:
Rhyme
WALKING NEAR THE WATERS
Under the warm golden hug of sunrise’s bliss
shielded by rugged ridges and flagging trees
emerged a peaceful scene.
Through the clear, somber, sleeping, water
sunlight revealed shadows spelling odes beneath;
odes unfolded by rising ripples in cerulean gleam,
touched by nothing but the gliding breeze which
seizes silt and shingles causing baby currents lift.
Sparkling like priced pearls in the still noon,
their waves, a calm heart’s pulse, speak.
I linger, tranquil, afloat in the ageless ocean’s
lea, sitting on a dry old rock-sheltered bank,
drinking the healing power from the scene.
Time is suspend; I see the lake like a child,
the ridges and trees, His grand legions line.
The shadows stretch, His noble progress to a life
unfurled during years of swarming battles.
But, He has a wealth of hope and stood amidst
the sudden ripples; unmoved by fear, for He
can hold the shifts. He who’s polished tough
and wise has championed in a sunken time.
He matured. He populated good influence
calling others to imitate his stance. He promised
life without fear cherished with gratitude, and
his shared touch was not dulled by passing years.
His memory endured, so many remember Him.
______________________________________________________
~Inspired by the painting: Lake by Georgia Engelhard ~
***For the painting, Debbi Guzzi's Ten Paintings, Ten Poems, Not for a Contest, thanks for the wonderful experience.
__Olive Eloisa D. Guillermo__
9:17am, January 14, 2015
Categories:
championed, inspirational, jesus, life, spiritual,
Form:
Narrative
The tricky question of how many animal farms we have
May be more complicated than most of us think;
There are at least some fifty-five animal farms in the world
Where wild mammals play and eat and drink.
And although there lightning is feared more than law,
These farms all seem to have the selfsame collective code.
Since different from the mainstream law, we may call it lore:
The silent cipher that governs the primitive farms.
There everyone is entitled to their share of breath
As long as they breathe within their native home,
Breathing within the territories of other beasts
Wins you mob lynching according to the animal tome.
No animal may acquire such vast knowledge
As to threaten the rule of the Elephant and the Lion.
The acquisition of illegal learning only leads
To the doom Artemis wreaked on the restless Orion.
There you must not shout of forbidden things
Such as animal rights and equality of beasts oppressed;
For it is clearly stated by the immutable silent code
That some mandrills are more equal than the rest.
A beast of worth begets offspring of the same worth;
If a beast be an outcast born, the same must a pariah remain.
No animal may rise from the bottom to the aristocratic realm:
No beast must such thoughts of improvement entertain.
The lore of the mandrills is not lean,
As said, these codes make a huge-volume tome
Which you can’t leaf through in a day,
Though you may get a copy and read at home.
Yet the problem is that censorship there is tough
And as such the lore has never been put in print;
The few Cheetahs who championed for a free press
Were one by one snuffed without a hint.
Categories:
championed, abuse,
Form:
Verse
Chivalry
A long, long time ago
Chivalry was wearing silver armour
Travelling the countryside it rode a white horse
Championed the weak, fought for all that was right
It taught men of honour how to treat the fairer sex
It was the force of good in the medieval world
The world changed in a thousand years
Chivalry disappeared as time went by
The politeness and honour of that time was never meant to last
Rudeness grew as the cities blossomed
Even please and thank you are hardly ever heard
There is more and more violence against innocents
Women, once worshipped by the men who knew them
Now they are beaten by men who never learned to care
Even children, the most innocent of all, are abused
Humans forgot how to act with each other
The chivalrous are gone along with their morals
The world needs one white knight riding on his white horse
One who remembers what was taught so long ago
One who will live the simple rules as so to teach our children
Chivalry will one day return
It takes is one person to care about politeness
One knight to ride in on a white horse and say please
Just one word said by the right person
Then everyone will have the respect they deserve
And we will bring the chivalry back to civilization
Categories:
championed, nostalgia, philosophy, men, world,
Form:
Free verse
This bears repeating, every December (and February, and March):
We have five December birthdays
in our immediate family.
February is the love month,
not March, never March, okay?
Some are confused about St. Valentine
who, though he championed love,
would have scoffed at our customs.
Claudius the Cruel*, Queen Juno**,
birds mating, and fertility rites
have no bearing on March.
Please pass the word.
December birthdays
thin budgets, time, and tempers.
The month of December
is for Christmas, don'tcha know?
March should be off limits
in the bedroom.
Every woman should hang a sign
on her bed on March first:
On Vacation for one month!
What, no one told your mother
about the nine month rule?
*Ordered St. Valentine beheaded in 278 AD
**Roman Goddess of marriage & childbirth.
cfa © 12/13/2010
Categories:
championed, birth, birthday, christmas, december,
Form:
Free verse
Many born will choose paths in search of glory and fame
And after the dust has settled, not much value remains
Nelson “chose” with open eyes and a passion-filled heart
Despite physical pain and degradation, love kept his soul apart
Evil, he shunned when it would've been easy to embrace
Love, he championed throughout the marathon race
And now at last, peacefully, touched the finish line!
~*~
Note: In Honor of Nelson Mandela 7/18/18 - 12/5/13 +RIP
Categories:
championed, death, dedication, grief,
Form:
Acrostic
now that Chavez is dead,
the american oil companies
chomping at the bit
begin to salivate & lick their lips,
seething
with the foam
of potent country-gutting
rabies---
for while he was alive,
Venezuela was one of the only
countries left,
who resisted the empire’s attempts to
penetrate it & whore it out to the
highest capitalist bidder---
with Chavez dead,
not only will the oil soon be drained from
within the borders of beautiful
Venezuela,
but so will die the social programs that Chavez
instilled,
those that had been used to combat the
extreme poverty which exists in the country,
those that the governments before Chavez did nothing to
prevent.
so goes Chavez,
so goes a bastion of anti-empire,
so goes a man who pushed Chomsky’s work at the
United Nations,
so goes a man who championed the bloc that
would resist the swallowing up of
Latin America by the
empire.
yes,
the vultures are hungry,
they are perched & ready---
rather than create green alternatives to the
reliance on oil,
they will suck every last drop &
make the world do their bidding,
creating a negative media firestorm
to shed hate upon a man who can no longer
defend himself,
just as they will the next who steps up to resist.
Categories:
championed, life,
Form:
Free verse
“Serving the Lord with all humility of mind, and with many tears, and temptations…” Acts 20:19 of the King James Version
Fulfilling God’s perfect will from the heart
Yielded to advance the kingdom of Christ
They are missionaries who did their part
Serving the Lord while graciously sufficed…
Called to minister, Gospel they did share
Propelled by compassion, loving kindness
Divine wisdom, peaceful zeal, mercy-deed
Preaching, teaching Scriptures of prudent care
Nourishing souls midst guided gentleness
For redemption seal with ardent faith creed.
Soldiers of Christ championed truth and right
Endured, persevered along patience-race
Discipling converts through biblical light
Toward holiness’ walk of virtue-brace…
Gratefully labouring with divine zest
Though human nature battled against guilt
Confessing, repenting, pressing on still
Serenely vanquishing transgression pest
Drawing nigh to God’s altar, pardon-built
Sublime course, blissfully they did fulfill.
In their pastoral work where they did toil
The Saviour’s exaltation, their aim
Anointed by the Holy Spirit’s oil
For triumphant goal, hailing Master’s name…
Encountering struggle, suffering, pain
Attacked by temptation, trial, hardship
Gripped with heartache causing grief and sorrow
Those God-called trod on selflessness’ terrain
Ordained to practice faithful stewardship
Exuding radiance of service-glow.
May 17, 2022
2nd place, "Form O- Ode- New Poems" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France; judged on 6/1/2022.
Categories:
championed, appreciation, christian, faith, god,
Form:
Ode
Lord Denis Healey was an intellectual Labour MP,
Who represented Leeds in the Commons for 40 years,
From 1952 until 1992,
When he could at last objectify as a Lord his real tears.
He was a Beach Master hero in World War Two,
But his bravery continued in his post-war politics,
When he advised other politicians on how Britain could,
Live within her means to become again productive, good.
He was then Secretary of State for Defence,
Between 1964 and 1970,
When the Cold War so frightened and intimidated the many,
Who just wanted their war victory respected in reverence.
When he became the Chancellor of the Exchequer in 1976,
He demanded an emergency loan from the IMF,
To save the pound from decline and most certain collapse,
When Britain was fast approaching that Winter of Discontent, lapse.
However, after that Labour did not see power until 1997,
But Healey became the Deputy Labour leader in 1980;
And for most of the 80s he was Shadow Foreign Secretary,
And was slow at Falkland Island assault and battery.
He was normally on the right of the Labour party,
A patriot who championed social justice,
Who guided us through some very dangerous times,
Where the country’s growing pains were his signs.
He’s the last surviving member of the cabinet,
Of Harold Willson’s government in 1964,
But when he graduated from Balliol Oxford in Greats,
Him and the Communist Party were pally mates.
He had a love of classical music,
But was enthused and besotted by poetry;
Shakespeare and Wordsworth were his philosophers,
And Blake and Butler Yeats he always did glorify.
Denis Healey died aged 98 at his home in Surrey on the 3rd of October 2015
Categories:
championed, death, eulogy, history, leadership,
Form:
Elegy
Take me back to my mother's womb
Where darkness was light
Vision my perspective and my third eye well versed
Fluidity championed my freedom, movement boundless.
Where the only ropes that tethered me
were cords that brought nourishment to my blood,
limitless were my stores
My soundtrack the constant beating of the heart that accepted me
before I encountered...you
...and me
Please take me back to my mother's womb
Where my tears mingled with the waters that surrounded me
never to be witnessed by man
These same waters that buffered the inevitable jarring of my body
and ultimately, distortions in my soul.
Toil was not known to me as hours became days, weeks, then months.
My form, strength, it simply became, effortlessly as was originally decreed.
Oh! I beg you, take me back to my mother's womb
Where visions of my Creator were still vivid
and instructions for my purpose well memorized!
My buttocks still smarting from being bounced on my ancestors' knees
as I listened to stories as good as my own
Clear in my mind, the echoing laughter of my Asian sister to come and
the Senegalese brother that never was, as we played innocent games awaiting our calling...
Listen to me, as I plead with you to take me back to my mother's womb,
where all was as it should be.
Categories:
championed, birth, blessing, change, creation,
Form:
Free verse
Aching hands, aged and scarred
Wrinkled, arthritic with callouses so hard
Knuckles swollen from times being broken
Now weathered and weak, quite painful to open
In days of youth, they used to pick flowers
From weeds in fields in warm summer showers
An offering for mother, to make her smile
Attempt to gain favor, a precocious child
They worked in the garden, cleaned game and fish
Chores of all kinds, when needed made fists
Championed me well at work and play
Pointed to heaven as I clasped them to pray
Held hands with young girls, pleasured some ladies
Which got me in trouble, then diapered some babies
Efficiently used for support and guidance
Tender for comfort and firm for defiance
Broken bread with many, friends and foes
Preachers, teachers even girlfriends ex beaux
Never failing me once, whatever the use
That is until now with this damn bottle of juice
an original poem from the "poemdog" Daniel Turner
Categories:
championed, appreciation, humor, imagery, nostalgia,
Form:
Rhyme
Heroes come in all ages and size
They are of a common thread
A heart of gold rules their essence
Showing love beyond expectation
For others, they will run the extra mile
No matter the need or cause
My hero's name was, Brian
No superman or batman was he
Just a big brother who championed life
With much wisdom for a boy of fourteen
Some claimed that Brian was an “old soul”
With talents beyond his years
From repairing broken wings and things
To his genuine commitment to caring
For siblings and friends alike
He rescued many friends from trouble
When adults could not be found
Amazing bravery and humility
Would shine through many times
His math skills were quite impressive
We marveled at the tree house he built
Where we enjoyed his storytelling and jokes
The perfect child, Brian never got a scolding
One day I escaped an uncle’s wrath
Carried to safety upon his shoulders
Walking for miles to a neighbor’s home
I admit, at six I was not always sweet
After he had made sure I would be fine
He returned home to await our parents
Assuming they'd be home by then
Sadly mistaken, Brian took the punishment for me
That unforgetable year, God called Brian home
~*~
©01/11/11
Categories:
championed, brother, childhood, dedication, losshome,
Form:
Lyric
In the wake of an avarice moment,
Yield into a serendipitous claim,
Love witnessed a desire being potent,
The grandeur Laurentian Abyss, she came.
Her hair the color of passionate heat,
Trailed sparks in the carved vale of the Abyss,
She brought the ardor of men their defeat,
And vanquished hearts with her outpour of bliss.
Genteel tasks in her liquefied domain,
Her expressed lured eyes left their thoughts to wane,
From Neptune Masiff, left many in vain,
The heights alone made the challenge, a strain.
Her laughter championed her wanton trust,
Abyss turned Masiff, the mermaid of lust.
2019 September 21
Categories:
championed, allegory, allusion, beautiful, fantasy,
Form:
Sonnet
I used to write like
Jack Kerouac.
Words
crumbling down
paper.
Stark thoughts
marked
by dots
and dashes.
Flashes of schoolyard brilliance
The hill I would
climb over
to be
someone different.
I never saw life
through a dot.
LSD.
My father
was on mushrooms,
when he and my mother
created me.
Psychedelic sperm
meets
bitter weed
infested ovum.
BANGED
into existence.
Transient spirit
sloughing off
afterbirth long
after I hit
the cold.
I have chased
paper
ever since.
Dipping my bones
in ink.
To paint a
masterpiece
of you.
Broken, homeless, loveless,
privileged, safe, warm,
sheltered, shattered
reconstructed.
All in a backdrop
of perfection.
An abundant Earth
housing an
ungrateful patient.
Most of us,
doctored
unconscious
sedated.
Waiting for
something
to wake us
up.
My own words
often
broken and
falling off.
Leaving only
snapshots.
I get ties and
sketches
along the
road.
I would bargain
my dreams
for pious acceptance
and my revelations
for wicked
indulgent
self
flagellation.
I have been
bound to my
vision
of exclusion
behind an
iron fence of
history.
Trapped
in pages.
Tapped and
wasted.
I used to write
as if I didn't
I would die.
On my knees
shattered
under
that perfect
silent sky.
Head bowed
shoulders cowed
frail and pasty.
Screaming
raging
breaking pages
with my pen.
Attempting to bring
black and white
to color.
Now I write,
because
I die.
A thousand times
with you.
Its glorious!
Over your
unfinished portraits.
Your shortcuts
your detours
your ache
your lust,
and your mindless
wandering.
Beautiful
and championed.
I pray to make
my prose like
a Sistine Chapel
after all,
you deserve
it!
Only to fall
very far from
grace.
At the
Inadequacy
I have
at coloring
your face.
I used to write
like Jack Kerouac,
jotting a shot
of you
in between
heaven.
But I figured out
that I would
rather capture
my own
splinter.
And be satisfied with
a sliver of you,
than die like him
at forty-seven.
Categories:
championed, celebrity, courage, dedication, devotion,
Form:
Free verse
INCUBUS
Do not wake me when I sleep
To deaf my ears when the morning weep
For tonight I shall elope with him
My hero,the light of my dream
I will be where quietness do sing
With Incubus my romantic king
You've been for long my sexual desire
There you wait where the sun retires
No night do I ever pray to miss
The sweetness of your gentle kiss
You love my treasure that lies beneath
Tonight I shall give you the best of it
You came with the strength of a warrior
And defeated me to be my Superior
I will wait with my thighs spread abroad
And escape naked from my mortal world
To dance with you a dance of the flesh
Till the night withers to come afresh
Take me slowly, oh! take me deep
Every moment of this I shall keep
The sky has lost it quality precious blue
Inviting a pleasing night for me and you
As the night approaches so young
Sing for me your special constant song
Give to me your solid weapon
Which many ladies have championed
Your touches like sun in the morning
Must have left so many crazy and horny
I quench in your arrival your Highness
I know no man of such goodness
You're to me a dream of heaven
Appearing in all night seven of seven
You've never dissatisfy me for once
Even in the world of my sexual trance
I wish with you,you could take me along
To you Incubus I belong
Come with a hasty speed upon my bed
You'e the thought that occupies my head
Move your hands slowly to my mistress
Bury you solid man into her nest
Feel the softness of my fleshy buxom
My darling incubus you are awesome
Be my companion in nights of emptiness
Robb me with your romantic skillfulness
Drum upon my plumpy buttock
Feed me before the crow of the cock
Kiss my gem with much passion
Lost me more in my state of oblivion
The heart with greediness must confess
When it comes to the issue love and sex
Wit' your kindness you left me perplexed
If you wouldn't stay why come at first?
And so do I hate you but still you I love
That makes you my sweetest paradox
Now the reign of the night sinks away
The sun has risen to grace the day
And swiftly like the spirit of the wind
You left to a world uneasy to find
Leaving me with the paroxysm of plight
To wait for another darling night
Categories:
championed, 2nd grade, addiction,
Form: