Best Eleventh Poems
A sigh escapes still, immune to overt silence, unabashed...justified
Another teardrop enters the infinite pool of resilience, uplifting...reinforcing
Another hand empathizes--
touching, impulsively putting one's heart unto wounds, alleviating pain
enfolding memories into paper, ostensibly vigilant
Unborn dreams awaiting fruition.
empty streets, impacted pieces: occupied lives, unwavering spirits
Arighting the entropy--
"Not Impossible!" Heaves Obstacled Nation -- Untiring, Persevering!
A lone emboldened seed is planted, objectifying hope,
ushering life amidst rubble,
engaging tenacity inherently within overburdened, yet undauntable voices
Ardently surging, emerging from insidious waves of chaos,
ultimately touching azure
Time effortlessly moves, insensitive to ordeals
nonetheless, undoubtedly healing...
As wings echo distantly, irradiated winds oscillate
blush unfurling light...
Arise, Sun! Embrace the illuminated blossom. Orbit Love's universe.
0330040203042013
11th March 2011
**It has been two years since Japan encountered
such a devastating triple tragedy
of the earthquake in Tohoku, tsunami and
the Fukushima nuclear plant disaster...
They are still slowly picking up the pieces,
so much needs to be done,
so many are still displaced, uncertain of their futures, of their lives...
hopefully they are not forgotten.
It may take long, long years,
but I honestly believe Japan can rise over this, I honestly hope so.
****Thank you David for this enjoyable challenge.
It has pushed me to approach this topic in a way that
I would have never thought of on my own....
It seems so late,
on your answer we wait.
Time is just an illusion,
we search for our conclusion.
As hours turn to ashes,
in love, we see the flashes.
The final hour is here,
fortold by the seer.
In that hour we live,
the eleventh hour to give.
Only heirs know that hour,
for in him we have power.
In victory we proclaim,
the glory of his name.
by johnaarongreen
copyright 2008
Would the world forgive?
Destruction of twin towers
echoes of cries and pain
all the nations in prayer
Ghosts and ashes the remainings
Its hard to forget,yet lets try to forgive
(Don't hate them ,hate their deed) Charma
Shall our neighbor to the Great White North
become our fifty-first state?
To be proudly crowned their eleventh province might prove a better fate
Fresh air, clear lakes and grand vistas not to be beat
Maro-O-largo/Maple Leaf Hotel would make such a grand winter retreat
Call me a Tory turncoat if you must and I'll heartily agree
Oh Canada, my Canada, I'll stand on guard for thee!
In memory of all those who perished during the tragic events of September 11th 2001
and in honour of all those who risked or sacrificed their own life for the sake of others.
Sirens lament, a September song
Echoing sadness of memories so strong.
Prayers for the souls of those taken away,
Thoughts for their families, in our hearts to this day.
Evening came early, the night stayed so long.
Morning started so bright, but went tragically wrong.
Blue cloudless skies, the sound of a plane
Eternal reminders bring that day back again…
Remember it all, let it not be in vain
Emergency crews, just ordinary guys
Laid their lives on the line as hell rained from the skies
Every last one of them selfless and brave
Valiant heroes with one aim – to save
Each one forever remembered with pride
No hearts left untouched by the many that died.
There’s one lasting hope as the world now remembers
Heartfelt wishes that peace could arise from those embers.
**Written September 11th 2008**
(This is the 1. IFA 2014 branded Haiku...
PA
NASONIC
PA
NA
SONIC
PANA
SO
NIC
PANASO
NIC
... created on the occasion of the rebirth of the TECHNICS - brand :-)
~He's In All Thats Great and Good~
(Eleventh Power)
When I wake up enjoy what I can today
In worship spend time with God thank Him for all
He gives plenty of blessings to me and you
Praise Him all the time and seek him when I fall
Feel his love today and try walk in his way
He'll protect you always you dont have to crawl
When we put God first in all we will just grow
Under his loving care then our souls will glow
Just have faith and stand in Jesus tall and strong
Devil try block way and bring you only wrong
But with God we defeat devil and sing song.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2012
November.15.2015
~Author's Notes:
The "Eleventh Power" is a poetry form created by Christina R. Jussaume.
Eleventh hour cometh, and e'er nun too soon
Bad tidings beckon, wicked's dark days of doom
Tears for fears, death's time's near
Cause, evildo'rs oft n'er hearing ear
Knave's and thieves, may scoff'n scorn
Malevolent scheming's oft so forlorn
Military men's might n'er a chance had
As king of kings battle, play's winning hand
Almighty steeds astride, turning the tide
Gainst wicked foe's, banishing blind guides
Earth swallow'd whole, fiendish Devil's pride
Ne'er to rise again, abyssed together inside
Lo! Behold! thousand years have fine'ly past
Sinister Spirit's gone f'good, f'rever at last!
For PD contest 17
November 2, 2015
~He's In All Thats Great and Good~
(Eleventh Power)
When I wake up enjoy what I can today
In worship spend time with God thank Him for all
He gives plenty of blessings to me and you
Praise Him all the time and seek him when I fall
Feel his love today and try walk in his way
He'll protect you always you dont have to crawl
When we put God in our life stronger we'll grow
Under his loving care then our souls will glow
Just have faith and stand in Jesus tall and strong
Devil try block way and bring you only wrong
But with God we defeat evil sing love song.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2012
January.13.2016
~Author's Notes:
The "Eleventh Power" is a poetry style created by Christina R. Jussaume.
eleven thoughts on the eleventh day.
January
white crunch blankets
bare bones clack
as wolfwinds wander.
sun
absentee landlord
mummified in clouds
sheds white lint.
snow angels
line our street
wearing little children feet.
now begins
time stilled days
stretching into distant Spring.
sound cuts the air
shattering
ice filled thought
children,
exotic birds
flit down our road
colour darting
over a blank page
bird song
welcome life
on muffled
windless days
2a.m.revelers
weekend nomads
roar through
my hibernation
sleepus interruptus
damn.
nature must be dreaming
lust filled moments
she moans and whimpers
roars and sighs
through January skies.
old ash tree
felled by gusts
of September
you are welcome
on my hearth.
woolen socks
for your itch
I thank you
on my January toes.
At the eleventh hour
Silence falls
Heads bow in reverence
Reflecting remembrance
Ordinary people
Stop to show respect
For those who fell
At the eleventh hour
A small group
Of Muslim youth
Chant descent
And wave banners high
“British soldier’s burn in hell”
And this small disrespectful group
Of Muslim youth
Burn poppies in the street
Desecrating that symbol
Of solemnity
And remembrance
Burning the poppies
In symbolic disrespect
Spitting on the dead,
Urinating on their graves
Or defecating on the cenotaph
Would be a less abhorrent act
By that small ignorant group
Of Muslim youth
The poppy does not discriminate
It doesn’t just represent
The white race
The Christian faith
European culture
It represents so much more
Every race
Every faith
From every continent
At the eleventh hour
That small group
Of Muslim youth
Who burnt the poppies
Disgraced themselves
And disgraced the memory
Of every Muslim soldier
Who fell on battlefields
Across the world
We all have something to fear
It lies inside of our souls
It lies inside of our hearts
Into our brains it crawls
And starts tearing us apart
Eleventh grade is a fearsome year
They look at the teacher, and try not to shed a tear
The teachers hide behind a façade
Knowing that their inner being, is fairly odd
Walk into the classroom, have a nice glance
Once you go in, getting out, you have not a chance
There is a saying, it disturbs me so
That the beginning is fast, and the ending is slow
The teachers greet you, tell you to have a seat
Once you are seated, they plan the feast
They ready their settings, they ready their plates
The name of the meal is called, “deluxe student fate”
Once you are seated, you notice a glow
In the back closet, lie the bodies the teachers stow
Once you go in, you never come out
That is not the only thing you have to fear about
The exams are harsh, your brain gets too full
Next thing you know, knowledge starts tearing apart your skull
If you look at a textbook, you all of a sudden blackout
When you wake up, your on the teachers desk, with an apple in your mouth
You’re tied to the desk, blindfolds cover your eyes
Something in your ear whispers, “You’re going to die.”
Form:
Sirens lament, a September song
Echoing sadness of memories so strong.
Prayers for the souls of those taken away,
Thoughts for the families, in our hearts to this day.
Evening came early, the night stayed long.
Morning started so bright, but went tragically wrong.
Blue cloudness skies, the sound of a plane
Eternal reminders bring that day back again
Remember it all.
Emergency crews, just ordinary guys
Laid their lives on the line as hell rained from the skies
Every last one of them selfless and brave
Valiant heroes with one aim-to save
Each one forever remembered with pride
No hearts left untouched by the many that died.
There's no lasting hope as the world now remembers
Heartfelt wishes that peace could from those embers.
High up in the loving crook of two adjoined cottonwood trees
I spent my eleventh summer reading seven library books a day.
A sandwich, glass of cold lemonade, these books and I
would climb up into that treehouse in the morning.
As I read, I would study ants and other minute creatures.
Mrs. Rutherford’s voice would float up.
I could hear Mrs. McDowell’s funny titter.
I might look up occasionally to see kids playing tag,
or Red Rover Red Rover.
The soft breeze might try to lull me to sleep if it was a boring book,
in which case I would begin another.
I was an eclectic reader. I liked mysteries, biographies, science fiction, and thrillers.
Agatha Christie became a favorite after “And then there were none”
None of her other books lived up, but I read them still, hoping.
My daddy built that treehouse, and I will be forever grateful.
I’d climb down in the afternoon to return these books to the library.
Collecting seven new books to read the next day
because our small town library limited me to seven.
It was okay, for this was about all I could read in one day anyway.
I learned a lot about the world from these books,
but even more about the world
As I spied on the neighbors, watching their lives unveil, as their
excited voices carried themselves to the top of those cottonwood trees.
School grinds on. It seems like hell.
Last day, then summer, and we're free.
An angel sings, rings the school bell.
We race down the street with glee -
so, begins three months of fun.
Let's play baseball. Let's climb a tree.
Riding bicycles in the sun,
Will this season end? No - never -
dreaming of that special one.
Oh, to be there now. However,
summers never last forever.