Best Cowed Poems
The Rooster
He strutted ‘cross the barnyard tall and proud,
away from all the bustle of the crowd;
the other roosters in the yard felt cowed,
to him they meekly stepped aside and bowed.
Rhode Island Red to others he was known;
the yard’s top bird, to all he wanted shown.
One day a pullet walking on her own
approached red rooster standing all alone.
“Dear sir you’re quite the standout in this room
all smartly clad and dressed in bright red plume
and standing by yourself may I assume
you’re unattached and lonely, I presume.”
Replied the rooster, “Dear cannot you see,
that others always step aside for me,
and I’m the one, I think you would agree
that any hen I wanted, it would be.”
“Oh, really,” she replied with snarky grin,
“then why I ask your party seems quite thin,
and I’m the only caller who’s within;
perhaps it’s time that you and I begin.”
“My dear young hen you’re simply not my type;
you’re far too ordinary is my gripe,
and I prefer a hen who’s much more ripe
for I must always live up to my hype.”
“I see you standing proudly in your frock,
and I can see you’ve been around the block;
you’re nothing but an old conceited cock,
and you deserve a nagging hen to rock.”
June 27, 2019
I grieve for Summer, watching the leaves die,
and as tears of emotion swell, I cry.
For saying goodbye is such a bummer,
watching the leaves die, I grieve for Summer.
Autumn drapes the land in a scarlet shroud,
sensing Autumn's approach; Summer was cowed.
And acquiescing to Nature's command,
in a scarlet shroud, Autumn drapes the land.
I feel a chill creeping into my bones
as the wind moans with ghostly overtones.
And treading on the dregs of Autumn's kill:
creeping into my bones, I feel a chill.
When Winter arrives, snow softens the stage,
at first, a lady, Winter holds her rage.
And ensuring Nature's wildlife survives,
snow softens the stage when Winter arrives.
Standing straight and tall, I am happy among my next of kin,
graceful and gracious, accepting and at one with nature.
The gentle whisper of the wind is music in our midst,
A cornucopia of chirping sounds, gleeful gifts from the birds.
Do you ever wonder how I have grown at last
For it was only six weeks ago that I was not on this spot
Yet it would seem that right before your very eyes
I suddenly appeared overnight, you were surprised!
My story cannot be told without mentioning the farmer.
Day after day, year after year he never gave up on me.
A powerful testimony of perseverance and trust, and hope and faith
in The One Almighty and... the power of a dream.
Knowing the value of patience, he waited and cared for me
oh so tenderly and never gave up. I dared not ever
conceive of disappointing him, so while he gave my needs
every day, I did what I had to do... I grew.
Not above, but underneath the ground, where no one can see,
to build that inner strength, deeply rooted in my seed.
One day in the fifth year, the right time came and
I literally leaped off the ground. Miracles do abound!
I am ever giving. I give food to the hungry, a shelter
for the homeless...even a bed. I am seat and a fence.
I provide clothing and more. It is my nature to give.
From my innermost being I provide freshness in the air.
Strong and resilient, I am not cowed by storms
They give their all to topple me from where I stand,
yet I hold my ground. I may bend and sway for the wind,
but after a while I stand, straighten and do not lose my grip.
I learned to accept my weakness and be proud of my strength
An image of one who is calm, I am at peace with myself.
26 August 2015
GARDEN
Two haiku after a painting by Russell Gordon
flowering dogwood
perched and pert, a tanager
harkens to the wind
flowering dogwood
perched and pert, just listening
scarlet tanager
………………………………..
this plaster statue
she’s naked, white and demure
looking at a rose
her round, yellow hat
casts a shadow as she picks
transformation bloom
all is wet and wild
garden cowed by wind and rain
tortoise pokes its head
Repost
summer’s backward glance
reluctant to say adieu
one lonely white rose
Dave Austin
Searched within the walls of my feeble mind
In brain matter scattered, but could not find
proof that orange is just humdrum,
To this conclusion I have come -
if orange is ordinary ~ I'm blind.
Brighter than most, it stands out in a crowd.
Bold enough not to be bullied or cowed.
Tones of setting sun refined.
Shade of ripe cantaloupe rind.
Don't accuse it of being brash or loud.
Lilies and tulips massed in flower bed,
More lovely than roses of crimson red.
Tangerine citrus and its zest,
fruit that many consider best,
Breakfast juice, orange marmalade on bread.
Not ordinary is orange to me.
If you think so look again and you'll see
Orange vest could save your life -
Fields of yams and pumpkins rife -
Coral breasted robins who fly so free.
:::............:::.............:::.............:::
3/4/16 Color Contest: Orange
Sponsor: Silent One
WE . . . NOT FRUSTRATED
Those whose mouth speak and ooze
Only fire of a voluble vibrating vocabulary
Those whose sin is just speaking for others
In order for their other orders not to be ordered
Those whose lives were almost snuffed
Away by the ordered ultra-fascists gangsters
Those whose words sparkles only fire
To fire the unfired spirits into burn- fires
Those whose political jargons-renditions
Send thousands frenzy for action
Those whose offence is probing beyond
The nostril above their faces
Those who are ostracized for louding the truth
Above the speaker of the U and I garden
These
Are those my bird flock together with
During the day in search of the night
I among those given heavy knock on
The head for these inequities known only to them
I among those who are painted in stinker Toga
Of Miscreants, Disgruntled elements,…
I among those placed on a four season wheel-chair
With a gun powder explosion underneath
But
For them their son that strike the cheek of a Porter
More thunderous a slap to be queried nor be punished
For them their sons and daughters whose oblongata
Remains blank but full of giraffe and chips in the exams
For them their stooges that converse with guns and goons
For them that smile with axes, guns, daggers . . .
To strike, shoot and maim others
For them their anchors that knows nothing but something
For out of their nothing lies violence and blood
For they speaketh nor write
For them their boys they present a golden plate of honour
Found worthy in learning and character
Doomed to become menace to the society
For we . . . remain resolute
For we . . . not frustrated
For we . . . not cowed
For we . . . unperturbed
For we shall uphold the pillar of truth
Until our struggle shall beam light en route the tunnel
Alayande Stephen .T
12th February,2006
11.28am
Conceptualised after my four semester rustication
Verdict by Prof.Bamiro UI VC led SDC in
University of Ibadan on the 31st of January,2006.
A Promise to myself to refire the struggle not to retire.
Let me show you your own death,
Night can fall in many ways,
Every time a friend betrays,
Love has one foot in the grave,
Voices rush to call you knave.
When you can't catch your own breath,
Cold-cocked by traitorous smile,
Lying sweetly all the while,
Whore to all that came before,
Lamb's blood now scrubbed from your door.
Tells you that YOU did the deed,
All the hurts you never knew,
Suddenly burst into view,
Love's sweet light now going pale
'Victim's curses' soul assail.
Withholds that at last are freed,
Silent lies dressed now as truth,
Venom spoken without ruth,
Your love now is shaken cold,
Burden more than heart can hold.
Clothed in naught but righteousness,
All withholds become your sin,
Vengeance poured on world of men,
Moderation disavowed,
Scales of justice truly cowed.
Souls so stained by callousness,
Only God has strength to mend,
Danger there for simple friend,
Branded! Yes, by love's bright flame,
With God's help forget the name.
Brian Johnston
Sept.06, 2014
Poet's Notes:
Sometimes innocents are caught up in satanic whirlwinds that blind them to what friendship really looks like and what is required of a friend. Dear friend still, former friend I still believe to me, I will always pray for your soul. May God open your eyes to who your real friends are! Live well and prosper, but short of a miracle, I will not be by your side! New friends, who are easier to love, it seems are everywhere!
Misleading, minacious maze now thwarted,
eschews stealth as sandal-clad steps resound.
Determined and dour, destiny draws near;
completing this quest: forever renowned.
Stygian sky grants a much-welcomed boon:
conformable clouds cast curtain aside.
A radiant pearl suspended aloft,
reveals route to where foul fiend does reside.
Mouthing prayers to a personal angel;
supplication: salient and silent.
Head held high, eyes fixed firmly on heaven;
bless these dark deeds, bloody and violent.
Sharpened silvern sword raised proudly aloft;
unblemished blade mirrors midnight’s moon-light.
Utters an oath sworn at parents’ graveside;
tonight sees the zenith of a birthright.
Shrieks fill the air, inhuman and hungry;
hero’s hammering heart reaches its peak.
Fear is just fleeting, for foe has arrived;
savage beast attacks with claw and with beak.
Garden’s guardian inflicts ghastly gash;
‘tis nary a scratch for warrior’s might.
Unyielding weapon wielded with such flair
finally - fatally - settles the fight.
Chimera confronted, cowed and conquered;
tales of this victory regaled forthwith.
A marble mosaic marvel beckons
and once-true events pass straight into myth.
-------------------------------------------------
February 2017
An apology for any students (or masters) of classical mythology. I’ve used a fair bit of poetic licence with the events leading to the death of the Chimera... but I was raised on a diet of Ray Harryhausen and this was my homage to his creature features!
-------------------------------------------------
Written for the “Chimera World” contest sponsored by Nayda Ivette Negron - Eighth Place. The following restrictions applied:
“1 original poem that uses the following words: mosaic, maze, moon, guardian, garden, angel, heaven, heart, midnight and clouds.”
He came with murderous intent
To the Manchester Arena he went
His heart full of vitriol and hate
With a bomb to seal their fate
I wonder if he thought at all
About the kids that there would fall
I don't believe in his hate filled brain
He thought about the grief and pain
They came to laugh and dance and sing
To see their idol was their thing
When young you have no fear of death
No thought of taking your last breath
That mindless man took their lives
Left grieving parents, husbands, wives
He took their lives but not our hope
Because we have learned to cope
We aren't beaten we aren't cowed
We are unbroken we wont be bowed
He made us determined strengthened too
We wont give up we will pull through
May the spirit of Manchester live in us all
We will stand firm we will stand tall
So send your bombs we aren't afraid
We aren't beat down we aren't dismayed
We will not hear your futile threats
You will not leave us with regrets
So bring it on let the war begin
Its already lost you will not win
Now they've come to London town
On London Bridge they mowed them down
Seven more innocent lives they shed
Eight minutes later they too were dead
Lets not forget the Westminster one
Lets not forget what he has done
Though he inflicted grief and pain
He died for nothing he died in vain
Manchester, Paris, London too
We stand together to defy you
One day you'll realise its too late
You wont infect us with your hate
Denis Briggs May 2017
Indians, Chiefs, Braves, Warriors, Redskins and Vikings!
Seems the politically correct crowd is upset with such things!
They're disturbed that sports teams bearing such names are a disgrace,
And that they humiliate and debase the dignity of folks of any given race!
It just so happens that with the PC crowd I have a little beef!
I'm a CHIEF Master Sergeant and Once a CHIEF - Always a CHIEF!
I earned a most worthy title that seems to irritate that pitiful crowd;
Try to take it away from me if you dare, but I'm not so easily cowed!
Robert L. Hinshaw, Chief Master Sergeant, USAF, Retired
Close to election time, we have the chance
to hear the candidates for office speak,
or “stump,” in nearby towns, to give their stance
on issues and improvements that they seek,
to promise they will strengthen all that’s weak.
The term “stump speech” dates back two hundred years,
when it was not used figuratively;
and those of the American Frontier
who ran for office stood, for all to see,
on tree stumps while they campaigned movingly.
All-day affairs complete with food and beer,
these rural fetes were rollicking and loud.
The speakers then (as now) tried hard to steer
the votes their way and captivate the crowd.
By hecklers’ jeers, the brave ones were not cowed.
With jokes and boasts, some livened every speech.
Sharp jabs at rivals filled the country air.
As time progressed, some speakers chose to reach
the crowd, not from a tree stump—but a chair
or barrel. Such scenarios weren’t rare.
Historical accounts of stumping state
the names of stand-out speakers in that day.
Three skilled men who excelled in a debate—
Abe Lincoln, Stephen Douglas, Henry Clay—
were stumpers whose wise words held unique sway.
Today some folks flock to the county fair,
not just for entertainment but to see
the candidates debating with great flair,
expounding on the facts; but they won’t be
atop tree stumps to shout, “Please vote for me!”
February 1, 2022
entered in Emile Pinet's Quintain (English) Contest
Take some applause, for the message that floored
The propaganda 2020... 21.. You stood tall, and spoke
Loud 'Ulsters son stood unbowed' you could not be cowed'
As humanity by power was defamed,l.' amidst false agenda
Out on a bender, as so called experts called surrender! yet you..You!
Stuck to your truth, its really plain.! so there is no day in
Court, reality has denied swann 'any rort?' And real truth has
Been shown; as not lame..' one more thing 'to be sure'
I'll put this on your door.. Van the man, standing tall'
For the people again.' He's preformed his greatest gig through false spin, all the lies' and all the pain.!
In shadows cast by mirrored glass,
A captive girl, a ghost from the past,
Felt the whispers creep and crawl,
“You’re ugly, worthless; you’re nothing at all.”
With every glance, the message burned,
The cruelest lessons never learned;
“Hey you, ugly,” the voice would sneer,
Echoing doubts that traced every tear.
She leaned in close to the trembling frame,
A stranger’s face now lived in shame—
Big bunny teeth, a nose slightly bent,
Hollowed-out eyes where laughter went.
Once vibrant dreams turned to dust and ash,
As teenage years slipped away like a flash.
On empty plates where hunger thrived,
The laughter of voices kept her alive.
A piece of toast, if she dared to eat,
But the pain was comfort, so sick and sweet.
Toilet paper became her silent friend,
Filling the void. was this how it would end?
From size twelve to eight, the battle was grim,
Yet the voices only grew ever more dim.
“You’re fat! Look, they laugh! What a whale!” they howled,
While the mirror mocked her, hollow and cowed.
But in the shadows of adulthood’s light,
She sought for freedom, for grace in her fight.
The girl in the mirror still holds her stare,
Yet one truth lingers; it’s breathing somewhere.
She wears now the curves of a warrior’s crown,
A size eighteen, she’s learning to drown—
The whispers that thickened and strangled her breath,
Are fading, dissolving, a slow dance with death.
And though the girl watches, fiercely she stands,
Rejecting the echoes with tender commands.
“Not just a reflection, but a spirit set free,
I am more than the voice; I am finally me."
So let the mirrors show tales of the past,
With all of its sorrow, each shadow cast.
For in defiance, she rises anew,
An ember of strength,
forever breaking through.
Inspired by my years fightinh Eating disorders and body dysmorphia.
I hate soccer I hate it so much I don’t call it football I call it soccer,
It is a pointless boring game involving no impressive skill or reward,
An exhausting inane farce that distracts millions from reality,
I hate the English; I hate them so much I call them stupid peasants,
Angry, hateful, mostly retarded fools, who are utterly enslaved by their government,
Ignorant of the facts, they are not free or strong, coward thugs protected by their enslavement,
Ancient tribes once roamed those beautiful isles, each with its own shamanic tradition,
Each with its own herb lore, astrological systems, martial, music, sculptural and visual arts,
Each with its own deep mystical language with roots into the fabric of creation,
Destroyed and overtaken by poisoned humans who were consumed by ego and greed,
Languages and traditions destroyed and replaced by a fake slave language and a fake slave religion.
All of Northern Europe was conquered but nowhere so badly retarded as England and from there it spread.
The scourge eventually destroyed all free peoples of the world even the Native American’s and Tibetans.
And soccer embodies the stupidity of the enslaved, a twisted treat for the cowed masses.
Today, the local daily papers highlighted a man of honour...
Deserving of his honorific title Datuk bestowed on men of honour...
Given his loud and strident calls for those holding the reins of power....
To better buck up in all matters of governance, to honour pledges while in power..
From relative obscurity, this quiet man has been religiously executing his duties...
As a number 2 man in the high office called the Special Branch, overseeing matters of security...
Given that his beloved nation now staggers under a yoke of suspicion and bad governance....
He is steadfast in his intergrity pledge of topmost quality service to the king and nation...
Loud is his urgings for civil servants to uphold pledges of intergrity and loyalty...
It is obvious his strong conviction is born out of a man of the highest principles...
Befitting the post of the Special Branch deputy director....
Today's interview in The Star provides an insight into his character...
Clearly it shows he is not easily cowed under political pressure..
And most admirably, not seduced by subtle promises from political masters...
Headlined as From Special Branch top cop to enemy of the state...
His candour in this news piece is credit to his character...
He knows where his loyalty lies and he is highly principled...
Admitting that he deliberated well and hard before he launched....
Some very personal and opinionated statements that jeopordised his career.....
When in fact he has merely 1000days more to see the tail end of his career...
What a ignominous exit for the country's top cop because of his stand on integrity...
How many other officers in the goverment dares stand up to uphold such integrity....
This dedicated man daringly calls each spade by its name and no other names will do...
Even as in this complex society we live in, a wrong can be whitewashed with blinded loyalty...
If only there are more politicians and statesman of this datuk's quality...
Our country will not be suffering from escalating racial prejudice...
Or economic ills that is plaguing our posperity and currency...
Are there more men of integrity and high principles..
Are there more such men to help steer this troubled country...?