Best Endurance Poems
Each day Annie Lesley opened a can
Her eighty-six-year-old hands trembling
As she sat with her cat and ate pet food
What is wrong with this elder’s rendering?
Pride swallowed to remain independent
Large, sunken eyes peered from her weathered face
Her late spouse a decorated hero
Annie’s lifestyle a national disgrace
More enlightened cultures all over the world
Have revered their seniors throughout history
Asians and Native Americans
Are just two who honor their ancestry
Polynesians, other Pacific tribes
Respect the wisdom that comes with age
Seniors are welcome in family homes
But here in the states they’re placed in a cage
Bone-thin Annie Lesley chose to be free
Amazing neighbors with her endurance
When social services tried to intervene
She fought with remarkable resilience
Old photos on walls told many great tales
But only purring Tibby was listening
Each morning she rose to care for her cat
Until the day that Tibby went missing
In tears she claimed he must have been poisoned
Though in cat years he was older than she
Each day she sat by the window, staring
Awaiting the homecoming of Tibby
She’d been abandoned by society
Lost in the world’s most “progressive” nation
For sacrificing her spouse in World War II
Annie received little compensation
This widowed war bride never had children
Her mate had met his fate in Normandy
Posthumous awards she dusted each day
Annie’s life was defined by loyalty
To a man and a cat who never came home
And the vigil she kept all alone
Ended quietly one warm summer night
When an angel came to take Annie home
With a can of cat food in hand when found
Annie had nothing else to eat in her house
This is the way a veteran’s wife died
And tear stains had blemished her faded blouse
Although seniors’ wisdom is heeded
In societies that grow from history
Too many like Annie lead lonely lives
Wisdom untapped, they die in poverty
We Are One
Dear Ancient Sister
I hear your distant calls finding me on a gentle breeze
You have lived in my dreams for many seasons
My voice
Your voice
My soul
Your soul
And our Coming of Age
I have always known you...
I have heard your
Quiet whispers echoing in
The night coming close to me
I call to you ...
Let me be a part of your breath
I have always known your wounds and sorrow
I see the light and magic in your eyes...
The pain you carry so eloquently
I see your reflection in the clouds above
Carrying your soul wound on your sleeve
I see the deep crevasses and lines
In your grandmother’s hands
I hear the secrets beneath the earth of
Your grandfather’s footsteps
I see your reflection in the twilight
Of the evening... against pink watermelon hills
Your voice beckoning me onward closer to you
I see you in the moon and stars
Your buckskin dress adorned with
Ceremonial beads
Abalone shell against your forehead
The dirt beneath your moccasins
Grateful for the kiss of your dancing feet
I hear the echo in the distance of songs
The Elders sang...
During their passage here
You are born into a woman
Before my eyes and heart
Before your tribe
Before nature
A wise new feline
A mystical power with endless allure
A force that lifts and unites us all
As one
Your rays blessing us and leaving
A welcome imprint on our hearts
My Ancient sister
I drink in your wisdom and grace
I fly on your wings
You have shown me your world
Watching you dance
Becoming you for moments in time
Your silhouette etched by
The wild flames behind you
A glow radiating into
The night sky
The stories of your Ancestors
Filling the air with
Words and lessons and song
Notes sung into clenched fists
With bloodstained hands
The children and animals
Sensing all that was
And all that will ever be...
The call of a distant bird
The thumping of your cane on
The hungry earth
Keeping time with
The movements of your body
You will look back on this
Day as you walk with the
Same cane down the path of
Old Age...
Your wisdom
Cupping your heart gently
Ancient Sister of mine
I am in gratitude for
Your strength and courage
The kiss of your words and
The teardrops of your loss
Susan Lawrence
Copyright 2020
Original Artwork
Susan Lawrence
Quietude endows hushed mystical space
Admonishing words have no role to play—
Look how in solitude its posture bends
Bowing in deference to calming intellect.
Listen to the utterance of wailing heart
Where grieved voices subtly resonate
In stygian echoes of aches and pain
As bawl of mortal life kneels down to pray.
Touch of gifted hands magically illuminates
Enlightenment of soul’s secret message
Setting aside obtuse incredulous images,
Silencing the whims of infuriating regrets.
Glowing in epiphany of truths ornate
Emanating from the heart’s regal reign,
Voice of divinity in conquest reverberates
Winning decisively dissonant arguments.
Gaining wisdom of supreme knowledge,
Free from shackles of ordinary, mundane;
Revelations disarm the earthly laments
Basking in discovery of heavenly solace.
March 2, 2020
Poem of the week on March 8, 2020
Placed 1st: Picture prompt poetry contest
Sponsor: Brenda Chiri
Placed 2nd: Your Best Free Verse 2020 Poetry Contest
By John Hamilton
I have the rhythm of a winding road
how do I consign myself to being confined...
rows of poplar pillars prop
the rendezvous canopy beneath we meet
—I self-cajole on ooh-la-la afternoon
yellow eyes; daffodils watching
lean into gossip groups nodding
a prodding breeze instigating deep-freeze—
I am a sweet weed in this place of sway and betray
with a stranger I stroll my arranged betrothed
height of his black top hat challenges trees
much like Corinthian columns
guards of an aisle I must walk —dear God! must walk
trepidation trips down my bridal spinal column
tiger eyes; lilies watching wish they were me
dare they dream they could uproot their roots like me
wish they could wedding waltz like I must —like I must
but their envy-leaves remain embrace-less
—I envy lilies’ empty arms of yet unmet love
daffodils; empty-headed —laugh
they try to read my mind to fill their own
what do I care their curdled thoughts lemon tart
and orange lilies’ brocade brimstone
what do I fear of fire-breathers burn of words
undergrowth feels square heels of my lace-up boots
post impression grows more expressive than first—
beware French tongues of sundew and burdock burr
marriage-carriage rolls in ruts to Versailles
where my coerced corset of hooks and ties lie
rhythm of a winding road dies in minuet strangle-hold
What seems now old
Used to be utterly new
What was previously told
We cease to over chew
*****
All that is old hold a treasure
If only we all knew
Just weigh and measure
Under the veil a unique hue
*****
Out of memories we grow
Been taught lessons to the bone
We do reap all that we sow
And for wrongdoing we atone
*****
Pleasure and pain what we gain
In a life not taken for granted
Who can stop time or rinse rain
Or suppress anger that should be vented
*****
Life will continue to hurt and heal
Vomit its villains to mould the meek
Send its saints to instill ardency and zeal
Never always the ones at the wheel
*****
Deeply inside my prayers I recite
To always endurance and faith embrace
Be human of worth, decent and upright
And paths that stain never retrace
*****
A great depth of gratitude to God we owe
For both strength and forbearance
For age that vigorously flow
And for the gift of Love in abundance
*****
An abiding passion for her Majesty the word
Delving into my smile and feel would draw
The music of heart in verse softly whirred
My poetic human soul imbued with awe.
I move with the river, it moves with me
We move in synchronicity
My thoughts flow with currents
Push my feelings around the bends
It heals my wounds, the hurts it mends
It washes away worries and doubts
In motion it turns it all inside out
As peace consumes me all about
No hurdles, no rocks are in the way
I move by and beyond them everyday
Taking in everything passing by
--- The river and I ---
Heidi Sands
6/26/17
Tears of the past invoke frozen footprints
When fears rekindle flares of dire misery
Feeling the ache, straining blood streams
As wrinkles pop up swelling deep worries,
Holding dialogue with sustained poverty
Attempting to traverse shuttered streets--
Bent, but not broken, in grip of tragedies
Trapped in the pathos of agonizing grief
Building escape still, flexing meager means.
When in my solitude, these images I’ve seen
Awaken me hauntingly in frightening dreams,
Grudgingly I go there, where I used to be
And see a child deep in hapless poignancy
Bleeding profusely from veins melancholy
Revisiting relentlessly orphaned memories.
Time unconsciously releases those feelings
When ode to new morn happy robin sings
As sun rises gleefully from deep blue seas
And life illuminates in golden hued beams
Oscillating winds, gleaming through trees,
And I walk with pride on the bridges I built
And thank my bright stars that lit my path
Twinkling diligently to show me the light
When obscure was the face of my dark night.
Silhouettes of yesteryear are purging now
Cleansing dread with vibrancy of spring
And jitters of nightmares in aspiring dreams
Seeing new growth in parched winter land
Like flowers rise through remains of ashes
Confronting what was, with what could be.
I have staged my play to my own melodies
And the rhythms I set to my own music
No longer evoke the prompt life gave me
As I write new chapters, create new scenes
I’m planning the ending as I wish to see it:
The story that was past, my future won’t be.
December 7, 2020
Placed 1st: Catharsis poetry contest by Silent One
She arose…
A phoenix out of a pile of ashes…
Out of abandonment
Out of hardships and constraints
Out of depression and sadness
She arose…
Out of cutbacks and setbacks
Taking to the sky, looking down on ghosts
of mental, physical and economical abuse
She arose…
Strong, majestic, empowered and divine
Out of trials and tribulations she climbed…
Casting off unsightly remnants of loss and despair –
Leaving pain and sadness behind
She arose…
A new creature – beautiful and refined
Out of a pile of ashes the phoenix climbed
With a surge of energy, she took to the sky
And never looked back where her burdens lie
She arose.
Heart beats in rhythm to snowflakes
Cascading in tune to my reality
Like a train travelling through time with no track
Overwelmed by it's vivid fertile surroundings
Colours pencilled in my mind
As a reminder of life and it's many shades
Guided by the brightly lit angels from above
Resolve in my faith remains steadfast
Watch in action exuberance of life
As a toddler starts, stops, and falls,
Slowly but surely learning to walk
Questing ahead in poise of pizzazz
Powered by strength of inner voice
Taking first steps of will to survive,
Oblivious to clutch of circumstance
Sending some kids to refugee camps
Or seeking asylum, walking for miles,
Hope for them is a place to sleep,
Bread to eat, and freedom to live
Cognizant of borrowed air they breathe;
Some will make it, some will die
Some will shine in open blue skies
Flexing tenacity of wings they’ll fly
Like a tiny chick’s daring first flight,
They will rise from burned-out debris
Ascending like forest of new saplings
Sprouting through the remains of ashes.
When tears of fear grip their lives
Some do fold, yet some stay strong
As life-storms destroy their only path;
Those of fortitude build new bridges
Giving comfort to needy and weak
Taking them safely to the other side.
When spirits cower, afraid of strife
Some resiliently keep dreams alive
Though they know their life’s afire
Trusting new day meeting dark night
Will always glow in ebullient sunrise.
Some succumb to inequities of fate
When despair mounts a colossal fight
Some persevere with innermost strength
Traversing miles of whatever it takes
Finding promise in flowers and streams
Shedding distress, empowering dreams
Invoking goodwill, believing its call:
Upon every roof some rain must fall.
October 14, 2020
Poem of the day on October 16, 2020
Placed 2nd: Will to survive poetry contest
Sponsor: Silent One
"Bring it, life, all your adversities...they only strengthen me!" - quote by poet.
oh, adversity...
haven't you exhausted
all efforts
to knock me off my equilibrium,
to make me
cry a river?
you came to break me in two
yesterday
with bells on;
jiggling around your ankles.
instead, all you got in return was
only....a shrug.
you saw no sign
of weakness on the surface
or deep within me.
you waited for tears
that never came.
you kept on poking
yet your needle pricks
didn't make me wince
you stabbed me with daggers
that never punctured my skin
or made me bleed....
are you disappointed?
surprised that your sharp weapons
cause me no pain,
but instead, tickle me?
go ahead, keep making me
stronger.....
I have fought through incredible things
Trauma and all kinds of life experiences
One may think peace comes to one easy
But it doesn’t, as the years I have witnessed
Faith kept me going and my fight for survival
Staying authentic no matter what the issue is
Also what I believe in and standing by truth
All this can sound easy, but it is not always so
It is faith and the will to make it all happen
I have seen treacherous things done to others
That hit me deeply, wishing there is not cruelty
But there is a lot of it in the world out there
Unless we all try to do better still, as we can
--- I have fought and I have failed---
--- I have fought and I have succeeded ---
Up and down this road traveled in life will be
The consistency remains with who I am inside
To do the best I can through the journey I have
As we are true to ourselves, we are true to others
--- I learn the reward is to be earned ---
--- From genuine LOVE comes peace ---
*Inspired by a comment made by a true talented poet Victor Buhagiar
Heidi Sands
7/15/17
From outfield judging eyes await your plight,
though sweat and stupor feign to your ruin.
Now pull up your trousers, cinch your belt tight...
glaring down from mound, pitch straight and proven.
Blurred ball unleashed, pitcher's swift arm uncoiled...
tho' bat be av'rage, the batter may not.
Cauldron-like blood boiled, fever'd swing loyal,
now away to skies, all eyes on prized swat.
Faithfully she watched from merciful stands,
clouds roll away from fancy, fated rush.
His chance to meet life, alone in her hands,
though startled by a bat's powerful crush.
Will you strike true in life's bewilder'g plan,
carried on shoulders of heavenly fans?
The hat hangs on the wall,
not as a relic,
but as a witness—
to mornings that began before the sun
had made up its mind,
to arguments with weather
and the quiet pacts signed in sweat.
Below, the boots—
faded, cracked, obedient,
still loyal to the shape of a man
who walked with purpose,
even when purpose was
just getting through the day.
They are not symbols,
though we make them so.
They are not sacred,
though we treat them gently,
as if disturbing them
might sever the bond
that holds the past
to the present.
And yet—
the window is open.
The light is not wistful,
but new.
The boots do not mourn.
The hat does not sag.
They wait,
as all things wait
for the next hand,
the next step,
the next story
to begin.
Today I will be happy,
Happy all day long.
I won't think about my problems.
I'll fill this day with song.
I won't worry about world affairs,
Or ask the reason why,
Some folks do the things they do,
And wring my hands and sigh.
I won't worry over hurtful things,
That people sometimes say.
I'll ask The Lord to bless them,
When I bow my head to pray.
Petty things that just annoy,
Of these things I won't speak.
I'll be happy as a little bird,
With a french fry in my beak.