Best Daunted Poems
Writtem By Ryland Joshua Matthews
For Contest: Sentimental Love Letters
Hosted By Poet: Audrey Carey
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A Lover Remembered
Sometimes I think, sometimes I wander
In my mind I often ponder
Where I would be, what I would do
If God forbid, I ever lost you
No matter how long, no matter the distance
Id travel that road to the end of existence
To feel once again that comforting place
Wrapped in your arms, a loving embrace
There are these things to witch I hold true
The seven great reasons I could never forget you.
The touch of your hand. The slightest caress.
In the heat of your kiss I know I’ve been blessed
Your taste is of honey that is fresh from the comb
Reminding me of solace, the tranquility of home
Your eyes so serene, in comfort I dwell
The moment I saw them, in love with you I fell.
Around you of Jasmine, the smell I remember
Erasing the fear, to you I surrender
The skin of an angel, through my hands I can feel
The unbridled passion, this has to be real.
The waves of your hair, in dark amber it keeps me
Locked at your side is where I truly wish to be
Never more daunted by the shackles of time
To me God gave you, and to you all that is mine
The End
Another year older
Yet I feel just the same
Except my hair's turned greyer
and my knees are getting lame
I once had buns of steel
My mind was like a trap
But now that I am older
I don't put up with any crap
Sure my bod is sagging
I've got bags under my eyes
I webble and I wobble
There is jello in my thighs
yet I am not daunted
Imagination is my friend
I stay away from all the mirrors
Enjoying my land of pretend
For if there is no reflection
The world is sure rosy red
I live the life of Riley
From morning till I go to bed
For within my mental landscape
I live an adventure every day
I ain't really getting older
I'm to busy enjoying my play
So if you don't mind my foolish
Come join me in the land of joy
Where you can be like a teenager
and I can be a silly boy!
Thanks for all the Birthday greetings!
In a world decayed by tyrants and greed,
Serving the human for the human mans creed.
Separation and conflict, the terms we now know
Where once The Last Bastion “Hope” used to grow
Defensible positions push further the lines
Where once the Hearth kept us warm through the times
The surety of plenty now fallowed with salt
Our Promised Land lays dormant, brought to a halt
Successor and Succor were once the lands governed
Brought low by obsession, greed is now covered
By laws and amendments they do what they will
Never giving care to the blood that they spill
A spearheaded tactic, to punch through the lies
Conviction and reason, the common ones cries
To once again see a world of solace and care
To take away hatred, and an end to despair
So with this, The Last Bastion “Hope” you can see
The salt lifted from a land that was once diseased
And never more daunted by an endless abyss
With “Hope” Comes “Love” and in the end … is “Bliss”
I am here on an archaeological quest,
to satisfy many a curious mind's request
for knowledge on antiques and artifacts
of Egypt's long extinct historical facts,
in treasured sands buried, like gold mines earnestly
sought for in stories shrouded in mythology.
With a large contingent just as curious as I,
hardly daunted by curses, but with shoulders high,
we went to the field, the sun baking us chaps
to a baker's delight. With our rumpled maps,
we searched every clue, and were bitten perhaps
by a million flies. Getting relief from sunless skies
in times of fair weather, whilst hoping something lies
in the depths of the hot sands for our very eyes
to see. With my tools by hard work and search worn out,
I brushed to full view, the tomb, brilliantly carved out
of young blue blooded Tut, regally laid to rest.
To my wearied colleagues, I spoke in real earnest:
'To exhume the past, we are here at last.'
I'm new to this language; it baffles me so!
With so many mysteries I wish to know:
Why doesn't 'resolve' mean 'to solve it again'?
And why are 'wise guys' not the same as 'wise men'?
Why doesn't 'extraneous' mean 'once was traneous'?
Why's 'miscellaneous' not NOT cellaneous?
Enigmas that seem to me very unmappable,
Unflappable me has become simply flappable.
"You're incorrigible", my friend Mike said to me,
I said, "Corrigible I'll endeavor to be."
One museum we saw had a fossil exhibit
I asked, "Every bone was at one time a hibit?"
"I don't care for inquisitive people", said Mike.
So I asked, "What's a quisitive person look like?"
He looked at me plussed with a look of disgust,
now I hope I can change it to gust and nonplussed.
"Disgruntled employees", my boss said, distressed,
"are a pain in the neck!" I thought, "gruntled is best!"
He scolds my appearance: "Your hair is unkempt",
so I'm bringing a comb to make sure it stays kempt.
"Avoid work mishaps, and do not act unruly".
"Yes sir, boss. I'll only make ruly haps, truly"
He tells me, "Just try not to look so disheveled."
My note to self: make it my goal to look sheveled.
"Intrepid Improvements" the work poster says
"Avoid trepid provements" is my New Year's res.
"Such reckless abandon" someone said to me
so from now on, more reckful I'm hoping to be.
I've tried to appear nonchalant and undaunted,
I'm daunted that I'm more chalant than I wanted.
This poem I'll write in indelible ink -
…much better than delible ink, don't you think?
When we travel through the solitary road
Not taken by many of those happy crowd
Hardly we glimpse the direction board
Rather drench in the showers of depreciative words
Pondering over our desired destination
Wondering about the mystical citations
Dreading the results of our action
We may feel perturbed and agitated
Like a daunted child
Abandoned in the field wild
We feel exhausted and dejected
At this crucial time, will emerge an angel
Like the god who appears in a child's dream
To make him smile like a sunbeam
arises as an angel, our inner strength
Help us traverse the road lengthy
The spirit inside us hauls
good spirits and souls
Who will travel along with us
To make our journey successful
So when we travel through the solitary road
Not taken by many of those happy crowd
Never look up for the direction board
Do not carry those depreciative words
Rather kindle your inner force
For the road's end, it foresees
And drive you complete the course
May 9 2022
On a cold Winter day, the couple went for a walk.
Shelby and Andrew held hands, and their talk
soon turned to starting a family. Shelby wanted
children, but Andrew's smile disappeared, daunted
by her eagerness since they married two years ago.
"Slow down, Shelby. I thought we'd take it slow."
Her heart beat quickened, annoyed at his reply.
Thunder rumbled, and dark clouds filled the sky.
Raindrops felt like knives piercing Shelby's face.
They sheltered in Rank's Tunnel, a cold, dismal place.
Her tears of sorrow showed the depth of her pain.
Andrew said, "We're gonna go through this again?"
She reminded him they agreed before they married,
to have children, but Andrew turned away, harried.
"Andy, tell me what's made you change your mind?"
He had to confess his affair. To that he was resigned.
He told her of his adultery. There was more to say,
but Shelby was devastated and tried to run away.
Andrew reached for her, but he slipped and fell
on the tunnel floor, where water began to swell.
His head was bleeding, he was alive but dazed.
Shelby reached for a rock. In anger and half-crazed,
she struck the wound again and again. How he bled!
Andrew's body was limp, and she knew he was dead.
The rain continued falling; water rising in the tunnel.
It was swiftly moving, like a small stream, a runnel.
Shelby walked away, not regretting what she'd done,
glad that she hadn't yet told him she carried his son.
She reported him missing, and when he was found
it was deemed Andrew had hit his head and drowned.
There, watch, the clouds part and light shafts blackest night
particles of doss drift through a ray of white.
Ah, revelation unasked for, and unwanted,
coming endlessly unasked, and never daunted.
I see the bitter blight of man's neglect lay
upon the once fertile field of summer hay.
I see a mighty ocean writhe and foam, die
and n'er a voice is lifted, n'er an angry cry.
I see children put their parents out to die
and parents who accost their children with lies.
Ah, revelation unasked for, and unwanted,
coming endlessly unasked, never daunted.
I'm plagued by memories I'd rather forget,
and with shadows that linger, I'm often beset.
They hover around me, leaving me daunted
in my waking hours and in dreams ill-haunted.
I've shouted, "Leave me alone!" They smirk
and lie await. In defiance, they loom and lurk,
stabbing far too deep inside my injured heart.
My voice raised in rage, but they do not depart.
Thoughts of yesterday cause sorrow and pain,
tripping me until I stumble and fall in disdain.
Despondent, I continue to pay a hefty cost
with each echo as a memory of what I've lost.
"Leave me alone!" My protests are always denied
A crossroad where memories and sanity collide.
They've begun taking an afflictive maudlin toll,
obscuring my vision, and wounding my soul.
Respite from my memories will never be a gift.
They surround me each day, casting me adrift,
tossed upon an angry sea, where they dwell.
I'm drowning in their whirlpool, headed for hell.
If death is the only solution to rid me of my past
I will sail on the stormy sea, tethered to the mast.
No longer vexed by my recollections, unrepressed.
I choose mortality over being endlessly oppressed.
Witches fly on their broomsticks so very rough
Flying past the full moon that is bright tonight
Over the haunted house that’s daunted and tough
Where a great jack-o-lantern lies bringing fright
Lit to dishearten those who look on its soul
Making life harder, letting tears take their toll
Witch swiftly swoops down cackling with gloomy glee
Taking all by surprise, her they didn’t see
Russell Sivey
Eternal life, I know thee
I now see what you are
You've never been a stranger
Or a potion in a jar.
You've been a patient waiter
Ever serving when you're called
Many pass you in the shadows
Never seeing you at all.
Now that I've come to know you
I see you everywhere
The blind can't comprehend
They remain so unaware.
Yet you're more constant than the seasons
Or the setting of the sun
You accommodate the righteous
In the body we're made one.
You're a mystery to the stranger
But a comfort to the wise
Those with knowledge understand
You are the high and treasured prize.
I won't be daunted by the shadow
I'll not bow down to death's false face
Through the dark with horror haunted
It's your spirit I'll embrace.
For the truth is your companion
And has been my closest friend
We met at our good lord's table
Fast friends we'll stay until the end.
Certain battles are still raging
Though the victory is won
The enemy hopes to kill a few more
By the setting of his sun.
I never knew how close you watch us
Waiting for that perfect time
To set and seat and then to feed us
The bread of life, and so; we dine.
RETA PRUITT
August 18, 2016
An innocent soul born unwanted,
alcohol damaged his brain pre-birth.
And he flips from happy to daunted,
as confusion guides his heart on Earth.
His golden locks shine like the sunrise,
accentuating his friendly face.
He stands six foot five with ice blue eyes,
and a smile that permeates his space.
A wounded soul whose heart needs healing,
he's quite noticeable in a crowd.
For craving, that belonging feeling,
he sometimes laughs a little too loud.
Spiteful, hateful words get hurled his way,
but this timid man's not prone to fight.
For he suffers such taunts every day,
as he tries to rise above his plight.
A gentle giant exposed to hate,
he holds no grudge against anyone.
When offered love he'll reciprocate
with a smile that's as bright as the sun.
(Quatrain)
1/26/2017
Sleep
To wait
for a dream
wonderous scenes
of piquant parfaits
with a blended relish
of creamy fruit and almonds
savoring and ready to eat
daunted by an ogre's appearance
who gobbles it down and awakens you
Contest March 26, 2014
At last I am free
from a language that
tried to subdue me;
And all the faces from my past.
That of statured men (on knees)
stripped from sacred dignity-
from being man.
Trying hard to dispute
that I, could verbalize those words.
World, here, my eloquence.
I speak the language of the free.
Though, can I, not hide
a truth so clear to see;
I’ve been speaking a language, foreign to me.
Countless times. Sagacity…
Never shedding a tear?
Only You my Lord, can judge.
Though, hear, this cruel reality-
Born of slave; so too, was meant to be.
Tears! Rivers, the consequence of time.
Wash me clean; please, white I’d be.
How cursed my mother’s tongue?
Yet, all I recall, sweet loving.
Nonetheless, I went running…
Escaping into what I thought was light.
Ridding me from daunted eyes.
Pray, my fathers forgive me.
I am a man of reverie.
At last, I am free
From a language that
tried to subdue me.
So hard to live (this) perceived inequality.
Compounded sins of he, who tried to silence me.
The same coming forth on bended knee.
God, set them free…
My Dear Doctor Anonymous: Things becoming calamitous,
blinding headaches without end, tumor's there, why pretend?
Oh, you think I'm symptom-free, where'd you purchase your MD?
Tell the truth, for God's sake! Even doctors make mistakes!
I know you wish I'd go away, but, like a thorn, I'm here to stay.
If you won't help me, I will die, the truth is tougher than your lie.
And when I die I won't be daunted, it's you whose house now will be haunted.
Yours forever, patient rejected, end of letter, as expected.
©Danielle White