Best Come Upon Poems
Bha e brèagha an-de
(It was Beautiful Yesterday)
There was a sailing vessel
With many a sail proudly lapping in the wind
A flag of the Celtic honor, in ruin an rented
As all the sailors sing
Of my love for you
From long ago
Before death became our friend
Oh would I be sailing from stormy seas to the Scottish glens
To lay some flowers at your side
Your beauty is now far under
My love ill wait for all eternity
For loves resurrection’s stormy thunder
Our bodies may be under stone
Our memories long lost in tales and fable
Let no man ever lay any such claim
Our love was not the gift of briny seaworthy fame
We be only stones, in a meadow blue
When you come upon our fate
Tiss with this verse, I state my case
The life that escaped our sadly date
Love though was true as sky
For long ago, she bid adieu
Her sadness at my drowning departure
As I her lover was told to be
Buried deep and under sea
Both sadness and the tossing waves
Took the life out of her and me
So when you look at fading stones
Remember the love that used to be
SUMMER’S END *
Down her meadow’s sweetness
By name of Summer’s End
This smallish thatch work cottage
With it’s proper artful sign
Hung at eaves with slightest tilt
By portal in decline
Should some young and searching pair
Choose certain bend of woods
And come upon the scene by chance
Imagine now their fond surprise
That first adoring glance
She’s not so much sad longing
As a fixed point of warmth
Her leaves but yellowed barely
Far distant hills all purplish glaze
It’s Summer’s End for keeping
Till a good life’s end of days
Dave Austin
* Correction - thatch work cottage. Thanks to Keith Logan for the correction
Stranded in this place
I cannot recognize
Abandoned and lonely
No one hears my cries
AS i walk through this wasteland
Of wilderness and desolation
I am consumed with anguish
I walk this road with hesitation
On every turn that i come upon
The is more pain than at the last turn
Agony and torment spews from my pores
With every step i take more pain i earn
Until i am enveloped with grief
Buried alive on my feet
Dirt in my eyes,nose,mouth,and lungs
I throw up my flag of defeat
Each painful blow leaves behind a deep gash
That is constantly reopened never able to heal
Infection has now set into my heart
Slashes and scars on my body reveals the detail
Of the despair embedded deep in my soul
That tells a tale of a soul so lost
A soul wandering through this wilderness
A tale of what being born black cost
A flame once burned so brightly everything in sight
seemed quite beautiful in its blinding light.
Everything I took for truth once upon a time
seemed to me more glorious; love seemed more sublime.
Then the fire began to die. Every little flaw
I began to clearly see till I’d seen it all.
Half a lifetime and the flame still is burning out.
As it dims, I am learning what life is about.
But the happy medium I had come upon
soon will flicker less and less. Going….. Going…. Gone.
When my flame goes nearly out, will there come a pall?
In the darkness that will come - will I see at all?
How I miss those days of yore - passion of my youth -
when a flame once burned, and I thought I knew of truth.
To everybody, but especially -
I write this poem for the elderly
who like to wield their awesome pen with might!
Make poetry your legacy and write.
Imagine this: you come upon - one day -
the “gem” of an ancestor passed away.
How thrilling knowing what brought them delight.
Make poetry your legacy and write.
I think that even though change comes with time,
the past still teaches in free verse or rhyme.
Past mistakes might set our future right!
Make poetry your legacy and write.
We’ve much to learn from those who went before.
Words to descendents ought to be the door
that brings so many vital things to light.
Make poetry your legacy and write!
March 11, 2021
for Line Gauthier's Poetry As Legacy Poetry Contest
The will of God can be hard to know
God tells us to come upon our knees
telling Him our innermost desires
to plead for His action crying, please
But sometimes He seems silent
and we wonder asking just why?
His purposes are past finding out
for God knows everything before we die
God is a good God, His word says so
all His promises He will surely keep
for He's been here since eternity past
and in eternity future God's sure to reap
His instructions to us for our benefit
waiting on the Lord is for our good
for He'll supply just at the right time
this He assures us to be understood
God since before eternity has watched us
seen our birth, growth, and eventual end
at the right moment, He shall provide
just wait for God knows your right blend
(Lamentations 3:25-"Good is the Lord to one who waits.")
It’s come upon me, and I think that it
began once I had taken my first leap
into adulthood, when the fruit of youth
was still so sweet . . . but then began the creep.
My teens were finished. Never more would I
regain youth’s freshness even though I tried
with exercise, cosmetics and diet.
It mattered not. My zenith time had died.
The magic potion coarsing through the blood
of us all - it constantly is dying.
That thing -that special zing- that helps us thrive
leaks out of us; it’s not worth denying.
Hair grays; diseases come and joints may ache.
I slather lotions on and tint my hair.
Ahead of me, death beckons, and “aging”
(the creep) has got me more than halfway there!
Sept. 24, 2020
For Writing Challenge - Decay - Poetry Contest of Constance La France
“Over there,” yelled the Helmsman
“On the Starboard side.”
Though when I looked from left to right
Nothing caught my eye
“Over there,” he yelled again
“On the starboard side.”
And again as I looked from left to right
Nothing caught my eye
But I knew when I saw her
For she was not water nor was she beast
That she had come upon us
To rest us all in peace
Her fingers rattled the rigging
As all hands fought to stow the cloth
The helmsman lashed himself to the wheel
We faced the worst of her wrath
Then she brought the main-mast down
The crow’s nest crashed upon the deck
Fear eclipsed all conscious thought
For we floated upon a wreck
Our lives so fully in the hands
Of nature’s primeval fury
We prayed to our mystical gods
For their heavenly mercy
Lo she ignored our desperate pleas
As she drove us beneath the waves
Relaxed and confident she left us
To our watery graves
Then the helmsman free from his shackles
Pulled us with all his might
Dragged us by our sodden collars
Toward the watery moonlight
The helmsman of defiant strength
Pulled us with all his might
Through our aquatic graves
To freedom’s shining moonlight
MUSTANGS
The ground shudders, and shakes,
Under pounding hooves.
Echoing against canyon walls.
Fast and furious wild hearts beat,
Keeping equal pace, with the prairies,
Wide divide.
From within hell's fiery furnace,
Tempered muscle drives motions sinew.
Behold evolution's die hard breed,
Built for no other purpose except,
Excessive Speed.
Racing along at razors edge,
Accelerating testing endurance's,
Brute strength.
Mustangs roam god's vast expanse,
Deserts devils burning blazing trails.
Encounters ghostly figures, dwelling amongst,
Forbidden territories reservations.
Dust clouds shadow creatures alluding,
Humanities intensive detection.
Harnessing destiny's forgotten beasts,
Freedom's native horses challenging,
Limitless domain.
Blackened pitch melting seamlessly,
Mixing with hewed grays.
Heaven's canvas erupts.
Storms rage splits lightening’s,
Aftershock,
Herding horse flesh towards,
Maximum Resolution.
Divine specters haunting thunders,
boarder lands, slick footed range warriors.
Traveling hidden roads ancient paths.
Natures raw power hardens brutalities
Magnificence.
Rival Arabians fight to prove dominates.
One lone stallion stands, dark bristling mane,
Brushed by evenings cooling breeze.
The leader takes cliffs highest plateau.
As silences experienced guardian,
He watches cautiously.
Resting at sunsets twilight hour,
Quenching thirsts, unyielding desires.
Next to waters crystal streams they ease.
Gently relieving tension's strains
Beside one another.
Comforts unity beneath reflective,
Moonlight's softness.
Mares and colts whinny in graduates,
Thanks.
Soon it shall come upon them,
Once more.
Dawn's rays cross horizons palette,
Under universal skies.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
With verdancy surrounding me, I wish to spin
around this world of endless spring that I am in.
Bewitched am I by forests, hills, and fields of green.
If nature is a woman, here she loves to preen
in emeralds whose splendor I’ve so seldom seen
as I revel in our drive out to the ocean.
Winding roads we travel with a zig-zag motion.
Where land weds water, we breathe a magic potion.
How I love this gorgeous shoreline of Oregon.
We come upon a beach, so I’m expecting fun,
But sky does not comply, and now we’ve lost the sun!
I also notice once-blue sky has changed to grey.
How happy I had been to spend time at the bay,
but wind and chilly weather bring my heart dismay.
The water feels so cold! I pull my sweater tight.
I can’t lie on my blanket soaking in sun’s light.
Oh, I long to jump some waves! This just isn’t right.
Wasted beauty can’t be felt warm upon my skin!
Bewitched am I by forests, hills, and fields of green
as I revel in our drive out to the ocean.
How I love this gorgeous shoreline of Oregon.
I also notice once-blue sky has changed to grey
The water feels so cold! I pull my sweater tight.
Wasted beauty can’t be felt warm upon my skin!
Written July 5, 2016 for The Crown of Couplets Contest
Judged July 30, 2016 and now used
for the I Got Zero, Nothing, Nada- 2 Poetry Contest of Broken Wings
Pebbles plucked from the sole
of my foot
driven deep into wounds
cut from a path
a path leading me to nowhere
trying to escape troubles
quell worries
worries that haunt
shamelessly searching
for answers to life's questions
I come upon a seaside café
thirsting
I make my way to a corner table
the room dimly lit but I can feel
I feel the gentle touch of a woman overcome me
I taste the sea's salty kiss upon my lips
blowing in through the white laced drapery
adorning the arched window
holding at bay the hot September sun
as I await for my glass of Mondavi red
a trio softly plays a heavenly tune
the sounds of the violin sooth
my shattered soul to sleep.
Two, three, five, maybe more glasses
and I meander my way out
to the pearl white beach
in hopes of catching a glimpse
of her beauty
one last wink of her eye
before she gives way
to a darkened sky
Staring off out to the East...
was I supposed to look West...
I long for one last glimpse
one last kiss upon my cheek
When suddenly before me She appears
how could I ever forget those almond eyes
so soft and sweet...love dripping out
that little killer smile...almost grabbed my heart
ruby red lips
an olive glow
of heaven, she came. I know
speaking of stories and sharing mysteries
how she grabbed my arm and couldn't let go
we splashed through the surf
we could have been the last two left on earth
how the skies sparkled
how we danced for what seemed like eternity
I laid down and she said goodnight
Now as I wake with a beaten red face
the sun standing high
breathing fire down upon me
I wonder
was it all just a dream
or a special memory
My dearest friend, i truly hope these words of council find you well
Word has come upon my ear that you are in much need of a warm speech
Means find me not suited to come exchange words personally, yet my soul is with you
Yes many moons have passed since we last stood to our own shadows, this i cant deny
Only if you knew of recent events that have scared my spirit deeply ever now
Loose not thy faith, for at times like this it is the only warmth that one could find real
The hand of life presses firmly on, yet i plea to you and stand strong it will be hard
Open your eyes, and bless Him that loves us all, His life he gave that you may draw breath
Gently feel the wind, listen it whispers of better times that are still to come
Pay mind to the wise council of God, for joy lays in the days of he whom keeps it
Lift your troubles, embrace the present, look back knowing it's long gone
Learn if you can, mistakes only aid the growth of wisdom in each spirit
Ignore the tounges that speak to their own benefit, seek the joy of your own soul
Dont you see tomorrow they claim their joy, least you whom still seeks to theirs
Aid those whom you can, tomorrows moon will look down upon you with gratitude
For those whom aid the sons of God, build treasure up in heven where rust ceases to be
Let the colors of life be painted unto your canvas where your story begins
Bear the fruits of whom you are high, for life alone is but a gift
Love with your all, make mistakes we all fall short from the glory of God
He knows you better than anyone else, love Him and see his blessing poured unto you
Listen that my verse fades unto nothing, pause and take note of facts that stand
My knowledge comes from one greater over all the earth
Jehova my God loves you, take then hope beneath my wing, and angels wing
Sail most by north, by west the least,
until the moon sets in the east.
There, in a sea the colour of custard,
ye'll see the Ile de Deux Sans Mustard
where locals speak like buccaneers,
calling you ‘me dirrr' and us ‘me dirrrrs'.
Their pirate accent's quite inexorable
though, than ours, their grammar more is flexible.
They appear to verge on being mammalian,
a little bit like South Australians
(I'd never for the sake of mirth
deride the folks who come from Perth).
Hard left, first manatee you see,
or right, your choice, you're free as me
(it's nix to do with politics,
a pox on all elected plicks).
Sail till the sea turns sweetest violet
and there you'll spot the cutest islet
(had we to rhyme with ‘sweetest red'
it'd be a continent instead).
Here, when poetry is long dismembered,
lies the place of rhyme remembered.
Yes, you have come upon a land
that any poet would think is grand,
where almost everybody aint
any kind of ffffflamin' saint,
but seldom use the worst of curses,
when they converse in freeish verses,
or communicate in playful rhyme,
pretty much whenever they feel like it.
While cleaning house I over heard the Trolls talking down below.
There was to be a battle in the grove, between a bear and a Troll.
They said this would be the end, to beat all ends, as only one would win.
Well, I’m a mother… so this worried me… on how this would all end.
A Troll and a Bear… fighting…I feared nothing good could come of that.
So, I had to find a way to come between them, to stop them in their tracks.
I talked to the Trolls, who said: this was a thing they… simply… had to do.
In fact, they said they’d all go, and would cheer it on, till it was finally through.
They left when I wasn’t looking, and I had to be there to stop it… so I ran.
The battle would be in the Bear groves where the bully frogs all live.
First I tripped over a root, breaking my shoe, so barefoot… I continued on.
Then I fell into the creek, coming up with mud everywhere, all around.
Brambles caught my shirt tearing my sleeve, but I certainly, wouldn’t give up.
I’ll admit, that Panic does some strange things, as I continued… to… speedup.
Watching where I was going would have been a really good thing, I agree.
But, I ran into the grove, a mad woman, with pepper spray in my grasp, you see.
Low and behold, I’d been wrong! There was a card game quietly going on.
The bears and the Trolls in their best clothes: and all sat there, giving a yawn.
It then dawned; this was a poker game of high stakes, which I had come upon.
The bully frog referees and everyone looked at me, like my mind was totally gone.
Actually, that’s probably right... Maybe, with worry… I truly had… gone mad.
Quietly I sat down, to watch the game… until the bear won it all… how sad.
Embarrassed, I tried to quietly sneak out: very quickly, you can be assured.
Low and behold, I ran straight into a tree… getting their attention, for sure.
Laughing hilariously, one of the Trolls picked me up, and carried me home.
He said, he was afraid for my health, should I be allowed to further roam.
They were right of course, but my mind will be better by tomorrow morn
You’ll see… I’ll prove it… when my next new poem is born…
We live in an age of constant change
but it's not a change for the better
if our grandparents could see us now
they wouldn't believe whatever the letter
In growing up in the early 60s
then life was so innocent indeed
a far change from today's perversion
as today's society thinks they're freed
God created this world as it began
but today's world rejects His law
changing godly traits for its worldliness
if only they feared God to be in awe
The plight that's come upon us
become so godless so full of sin
now judgment will come right on
sending us all in a spin
The great need for the hour's prayer
to plead with the Lord to intervene
calling on the great mercy of God
convert this world back to Eden's scene