Best Entombment Poems
Of Saints And Sinners
Within the sacrificial selfless silence
The seditious spirit stands in defiance
With salient scars of eternal echoes
Amongst the meditating melodious meadows
Sinister sins compound in complexity
Where demon deeds are devoured devilishly
Macabre masters of the medieval mind
Disengaged discipline of the consciously confined
The saint and sinner must coherently co-exist
One restrains of thoughts the other can not resist
Erosive entombment in the somatic solitudes
As both struggle within the manqué multitudes.
Oct.28.2016
Saints and Sinners - Contest
Sponsored by: Silent One
Warring wounded Warriors winded,
as they stand by the blood-stained shore;
Battalions breathily bruised and bended,
as they begin to march on for more…
Evil encounters evolve and enslave,
for their conquering captains do command;
As demons devour and deprave,
decompositional defaults within their demand.
Lachrymal lonely landscapes lament,
as deceptions and illusions take control;
Edacious entombment evokes,
evil incarnates infiltrating the immortal soul…
Weapons of war wager wild,
armored ambient angels lift their golden swords;
Egocentric evil must be exiled,
as we recover and resurrect for history records.
July.10.2020
Warrior Poetry
Sponsored by~ Silent One
Placed 2'nd...Thank You
Beneath a shroud in mystery
was built a monument sublime,
where flowed a river endlessly,
her flow kissed the periphery,
ignored the grasp of time.
So great the span of her intent
she circled mound and battlement,
where roses sprang in every glorious hue,
and other vibrant flowers showed their worth,
as ancient trees spired mightily in view,
and full proclaimed the grandeur of the earth.
Behold the caves where lovers kept their tryst,
close hidden where the mountain swooped and shaded,
well guarded by the shadows and the mist,
a devil's place where dissidents and traitors kissed
in heated passion, and their love degraded.
Within the gloom a roiling and a bursting,
a waterspout came thrusting, thunder blasting,
and spat huge molten rocks like tiny pebbles,
the torrent coursing down, not merely dribbles,
the raging maelstrom flinging high and over,
revealed beneath the streaming sacred river.
She ran through dale and covert full continuous,
a journey never ending, until she reached the sea.
And then was heard a cry, a call to arms,
that neither bliss nor solitude becalms.
Yet music from the edifice and caves
o'ercame the sound of warring and of strife,
reverberations and the crashing of the waves
a mighty symphony in tune with all of life.
the sun-bleached monument regaled in gold,
the savage caves, calamitous and cold.
A dream of perfect grace I once beheld,
a lady with a voice as clear as spring,
a vision of my destiny
she sang of sweet eternity,
such joyful notes didst bring!
Would that I might recover
the beauty of her song,
the passion of a secret lover,
I might labor hard and long
to recreate this sacrament,
its sunny climes, its frozen spa,
a two-edged sword its testament,
a blessing and a curse both spent,
to dwell within that twin entombment,
a two-tongued threat beneath Abora.
For whosoever breaks these grounds,
and recreates conflicting sounds,
has tasted direst dark and Shangri-la!
There was a cloud hung over him
a presence, an impending doom.
He seemed one lightning strike away
from enlightenment - or entombment.
Haunted by the stigma of divine dissatisfaction
a wanderer in a spiritual maelstrom
questioning the questions of the questioners,
thinking on the thoughts of the thinkers,
worshiping at the edges of heresy,
praying for the efficacy of his prayers.
Hidden in the silence of life’s tomb
innocence interred beneath this “cloud”.
The sun never shone, the rain never fell,
on the unrighteousness of the righteous.
4/10/2016
//This turned into a "Free Verse Sonnet". Hope it works.//
submitted to – Sun shines on the righteous – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Seren Roberts
The dawn of anticipated darkness,
Pierces these gilded walls.
The smoulder of sinister heat arising-
An entombment of dreams.
Let us raise our chalices of stars
To toast these woodland creatures emerging.
From beyond the drapes of tasseled velvet,
Through the seeps by light of moon.
Find the phantoms that dwell in lit shadows;
They stray to the rhythm of unwhispered truths.
Is this magic that lifts these masks afloat?
Oh, look around! There’s one more behind you!
I behold you, silken facade,
By glimpses across the candelabra.
Do you feel the coming
Of our night’s story awaiting a beginning.
Take care to not unmask these veils
For no revelations should come alight.
As our hands embrace and we glide,
Feigning ignorance in only this night.
Beneath a shroud in mystery
was built a monument sublime,
where flowed a river endlessly,
her flow kissed the periphery,
ignored the grasp of time.
So great the span of her intent
she circled mound and battlement,
where roses sprang in every glorious hue,
and other vibrant flowers showed their worth,
as ancient trees spired mightily in view,
and full proclaimed the grandeur of the earth.
Behold the caves where lovers kept their tryst,
close hidden where the mountain swooped and shaded,
well guarded by the shadows and the mist,
a devil's place where dissidents and traitors kissed
in heated passion, and their love degraded.
Within the gloom a roiling and a bursting,
a waterspout came thrusting, thunder blasting,
and spat huge molten rocks like tiny pebbles,
the torrent coursing down, not merely dribbles,
the raging maelstrom flinging high and over,
revealed beneath the streaming sacred river.
She ran through dale and covert full continuous,
a journey never ending, until she reached the sea.
And then was heard a cry, a call to arms,
that neither bliss nor solitude becalms.
Yet music from the edifice and caves
o'ercame the sound of warring and of strife,
reverberations and the crashing of the waves
a mighty symphony in tune with all of life.
the sun-bleached monument regaled in gold,
the savage caves, calamitous and cold.
A dream of perfect grace I once beheld,
a lady with a voice as clear as spring,
a vision of my destiny
she sang of sweet eternity,
such joyful notes didst bring!
Would that I might recover
the beauty of her song,
the passion of a secret lover,
I might labor hard and long
to recreate this sacrament,
its sunny climes, its frozen spa,
a two-edged sword its testament,
a blessing and a curse both spent,
to dwell within that twin entombment,
a two-tongued threat beneath Abora.
For whosoever breaks these grounds,
and recreates conflicting sounds,
has tasted direst dark and Shangri-la!
Dwelling
In the arches
Of dark corners that reach
The entombment of my stale mind,
Frozen
In time;
Freshly scarred by
Unfulfilled musings led
By stoic apathy singing
Tunes of
Friction,
Fluctuating
Amidst piercing thistles,
And crucifying vines flooding
My core.
Stacks of Aloneness
by Odin Roark
He wandered here among the longings
And the forgotten,
Not many remaining properly covered,
Their dust jackets of protection
Long gone.
Worn and torn,
The many leaned fatigued in their shoulder to shoulder exile,
With an occasional entombment in plastic wrap
Sweltering in the heat of its many paged passion.
He saw there was something for every kind of aloneness,
Requiring only to be read,
Not bought and placed on another shelf,
But made companion,
A redemptive power for continuing,
often singular journey of aloneness.
A sudden draft from the entrance door
Fluttered the pages of an ancient pyramid travel guide,
The open page 86 sent miniscule sand afloat,
Including its stowaway squashed flea,
Having once bitten the privates of the book’s looting bandit,
Now reduced to but another powdery remnant of history
He gazed upon the shaft of light spotlighting the settling dust.
Such never-ending stacks of tomes, he thought.
A mix of direct and implied philosophy of time,
Some read and pondered,
Others once he knew were but color-matched bindings for
A decorator’s intellectual pandering to
A 5th Avenue looky-loo,
Someone wanting the perfect life,
A delusion her inheritance
Could ever accommodate.
And then…
There was this one opus, ‘til now he knew not of.
Here, the fortune of lovers lying side by side
Beneath the weight of print and paper,
Shared a vial of death, now empty.
A desperate love wanting only to be read,
To be understood as prohibited emotion
Reduced to a finite repose in the darkness of closure,
Like the unopened book now about to have its long awaited embrace.
From his hand he placed the worn book down for ring up.
The clerk opened the cover to reveal its eye-pencil message:
“To my love. May you live long enough to finish this.”
Smiling to the obviously homeless man,
the clerk said, “Just a buck, including tax. Gotta love a bargain, eh?”
“Yes,” he said. “They say the bard knew aloneness needn’t be lonely.
Think he was right?”
She shrugged.
He handed her four quarters.
When the Heavens Fall
The devious despotic dark ones shall descend
Riding sullen stallions to this hell will attend
Bringing with them fire and fear, a ballistic blend
Rulers of Lords and Kings, tyranny will impend
The sun will stop shining, the darkness shall extend
The forsaken have fallen and thus set the trend
Shivering silence no human can comprehend
Lachrymal lashes through weeping walls shall transcend
Cathedrals of condemnation, priests will pretend
Impetuous entombment, Angels must defend
Disjunctive destruction the demons do contend
Illumination and damnation, battle's END.
MP3...The Four Horsemen...by Metallica
Jan.12.2017
12 by 12 Monorhyme - Contest
Sponsored by: John Hamilton
The Convicted
For Haiti
I am the Niobic victim
Turned to stone
At the cry of the earth
And my hopes, lost in
The cleft, captured by
A wayward earthquake
Why me? Mother Nature
Why do I deserve
This sheer massacre?
Wait a minute!
Are you just angry at me?
Am I in the conspicuous shoe?
As Dothan, Koram, and Abiram
Against you
I am the convicted land
Of ravenous earthquake
Of De-nutrient hope
And flickering future
Whose smile received the
Malignant woe
And my happiness now garnered
For entombment in a national grave
Mother Nature, Mother Nature
Why have you cruelly decided
To leave me in this wanton debris
Of strangled status?
Why so angry at me?
That my green hope slipped
Now you’re satisfied at my wreckage
Aren’t you?
Hark now, o ye victimized
For tomorrow, the eclipsed moon
Will shine to reincarnate the
Captured hope
And the entombed happiness shall blossom
Shining and glowing as the ginger embrace
Of the morning sun
On your De-nutrient hope
Planet of the Grapes
and so the grapes
conspired
met in secret bunches
eavesdropped
on the vintners
during their
wine sipping lunches.
too win we must
subvert their minds
causing loss of focus
torturously tenderize
rendering it “mocus”.
we must accept
our crushing fate
entombment in the
vintners cellar
convince them
their dreams absurd
are absolutely stellar.
we’ll infiltrate
the highest realms
of the intelligentsia
cripple them
in brain cell death
of alcohols dementia.
they will tend
the very vines
that nurture revolution
unknowingly
complicit in
our forty proof solution.
John G. Lawless
10/18/2014
For the “Words – The Heart of Imagination?” – Poetry Contest
Sponsor – Brian Johnston
And the cemetery was littered with debris
While I paced the graveyards in crushed marble,
That seraphic figures draped the woeful air
Enshrining those long gone…names forgotten
By time’s entombment of a shrunken past
As black roses moved with the cold, cold wind.
From this moment, a heavy silence tugs me;
I kneel down and cry, sighing they find peace
As broken wings perch on my shoulders
That my hands fold in deepened appeal,
Requesting the guardians of life
To teach me stillness when the last twilight
Comes, till the gasp of arriving and leaving
Lays me to rest , tranquil and sweet
With burst of petals along my cemetery;
Knowing not if I have ever lived
In the fullness of love…or fallen from grace.
.................
For the Contest:Any Poem You Ever Penned
Sponsored by Broken Wings
Posted 5/20/2016 ... Not entered in any contest
Beneath a shroud in mystery
was built a monument sublime,
where flowed a river endlessly,
her flow kissed the periphery,
ignored the grasp of time.
So great the span of her intent
she circled mound and battlement,
where roses sprang in every glorious hue,
and other vibrant flowers showed their worth,
as ancient trees spired mightily in view,
and full proclaimed the grandeur of the earth.
Behold the caves where lovers kept their tryst,
close hidden where the mountain swooped and shaded,
well guarded by the shadows and the mist,
a devil's place where dissidents and traitors kissed
in heated passion, and their love degraded.
Within the gloom a roiling and a bursting,
a waterspout came thrusting, thunder blasting,
and spat huge molten rocks like tiny pebbles,
the torrent coursing down, not merely dribbles,
the raging maelstrom flinging high and over,
revealed beneath the streaming sacred river.
She ran through dale and covert full continuous,
a journey never ending, until she reached the sea.
And then was heard a cry, a call to arms,
that neither bliss nor solitude becalms.
Yet music from the edifice and caves
o'ercame the sound of warring and of strife,
reverberations and the crashing of the waves
a mighty symphony in tune with all of life.
the sun-bleached monument regaled in gold,
the savage caves, calamitous and cold.
A dream of perfect grace I once did hear,
a lady with a voice as clear as spring,
a vision of my destiny
she sang of sweet eternity,
such joyful notes didst bring!
Would that I might recover
the beauty of her song,
the passion of a secret lover,
I might labour hard and long
to recreate this sacrament,
its sunny climes, its frozen spa,
a two-edged sword its testament,
a blessing and a curse both spent,
to dwell within that twin entombment,
a two-tongued threat beneath Abora.
For whosoever breaks these grounds,
and recreates conflicting sounds,
has tasted direst dark and Shangri-la!
With macabre-like fear, I fret as Death glides near,
all too near! And in my ears, buried deep,
ticks a ghostly tick-tock—it's all I hear
(so deep, deep in my ears I cannot sleep)!
I'm manic; and with every breath I panic
and hyperventilate, as my lungs scream
for air—as from a nightmare truly horrific,
a dream unlike any phantasmic dream
I've ever dreamt of! With unavailing breath,
I wane—wane morbidly as though on death's bier,
embalmed for entombment in a grave beneath
(as I agonize, because the end feels so near).
In paralyzing fear of these panic attacks,
I'll soon die in their death throes and climax!?
Beneath a shroud in mystery
was built a monument sublime,
where flowed a river endlessly,
her flow kissed the periphery,
withheld the grasp of time.
So great the span of her intent
she circled mound and battlement,
where roses sprang with every glorious hue,
and other vibrant flowers showed their worth,
as ancient trees rose mightily in view,
and full displayed the grandeur of the earth.
Behold the caves where lovers kept their tryst,
close hidden where the mountain swooped and shaded,
well guarded by the shadows and the mist,
a devil's place where dissidents and traitors kissed
in heated passion, though their lust's degraded.
Within the gloom a roiling and a bursting,
a waterspout came thrusting, thunder blasting,
and spat huge molten rocks like tiny pebbles,
the torrent coursing down, not merely dribbles,
the raging maelstrom flinging high and ever,
revealed beneath the streaming sacred river.
She ran through dale and covert full continuous,
a journey never ending, until she reached the sea.
And then was heard a cry, a call to arms!
that neither bliss nor solitude becalms.
Yet the music from the edifice and caves
o'ercame the sound of warring and of strife,
reverberations and the crashing of the waves
a mighty symphony in tune with all of life.
the sun-bleached monument regaled in gold,
the savage caves, calamitous and cold.
A dream of perfect grace I once beheld,
a lady with a voice as clear as spring,
a vision of my destiny,
she sang of sweet eternity,
such joyful notes didst bring!
Would that I might recover
the beauty of her song,
the passion of a secret lover,
I might labor hard and long
to recreate this sacrament,
its sunny climes, its frozen spa,
a two-edged sword its testament,
a blessing and a curse both spent,
to dwell within that twin entombment,
a two-tongued threat beneath Abora?
for whosoever breaks these grounds,
and recreates conflicting sounds,
has tasted direst hell and Shangri-la!