Best Fainthearted Poems
A fuming, fierce and moving target
On yor species will you place yor bet!
Aiming the blade into shoulder blade or beating heart
all toreadors hope to throw that fatal decisive dart!
This bullyboy to score a bloodied bullseye in bullfight!
O'course not for the fainthearted that gory sight.
Well, that counts timid me out from any bullring
naturally I a bulwark against this lurid thing.
I find in the sport a sort of sadism
Like cockfights it must reek of masochism.
The carmine cape, the only screen between him and the jaws of death
or should I say rather, the sickle horns of death
Oh no, what if the matador ain't ever allowed to catch his breath?
For promoters a thrilling spinechilling
Spanish folk art in arena
For objectors a bloodsport
they wish as dead as the myth of Athena.
The Spanish might be divided about their picadors
on this sporty bloody battle between man and beast
No telling till when spectators will throng to watch those matadors
while I wonder do they on the trophy bull then feast?
Ah ban it to history
or fan it to the future
Call it cruelty or not, oh the thrills of our humankind
Tis fair play or fair game for the raging bull tis half blind?
Yet if any bloodlust instincts be satiated by those stuntmen toreros
matadors maybe far better than murderers and war heroes.
When night burns starless like a tomb,
shadow exults the dark and gloom.
Our souls hone fears sharp as a blade,
and every path holds certain doom.
To dare a trek on nights thus made
all rue in heart their fool's crusade.
Through shadowed vestige, mute and still
all dreams of past and future fade.
Fainthearted now, we lack the will
to slow our heart, to mount the hill,
where specters sing their doleful tune,
and dread alone makes one's blood chill.
Dark, boundless night would have us swoon,
so pray that safety comes, and soon.
When souls feel trapped by shadows dire
we cast our hopes upon the moon.
The moon sustains as twilight's fire,
it tarries until dusk expire.
When sunlight ends the night's deep mire,
we'll share new hope by dawn's bright pyre.
~~~Night Burns~~~
JADE
by Rosemarie Rowley
I knew you fainthearted what side you were on
When you talked of social reality: not Jesus at the well
With the Samaritan woman, or the invisible loss of power
Which halts her speech and causes His deference
Holding her in trust for what she is.
You can talk of rural communes in China
Till the cows come home – leading them will be a girl
Bearing a key-ring and a dead black raven.
Your ways are sweet indeed, nectar and honey
And vinegar to end it all: you’d let all the
Wells in the world run dry for a principle
And proudly show us the papier-mache women who survived,
Embalmed with bitter hope and urgent salvation,
To tell the tale on electro-magnetic tape.
The pain that young man felt was very close
to what hell would be like. Richard watched
and heard this poor soul scream and beg for
his life over and over again. Richard
did not have a conscience. The beatings that
he took from both his parents created this
monster. He was immune to someone else's
horrific pains, It didn't bother him. When he
was a child he would tie two cats together by
their tails and throw them over a clothesline,
and watch them claw each other to death.
The film was completed. The poor man was
eaten to where most his bones were exposed
and his flesh was gone. He then delivered the
the film to his boss, a well known mobster.
9/18/2015 PLEASE READ IAN GUYLER'S
RATMAN COMETH..................................
You can actually see this horrendous video
by going to You Tube and going to Serial
Killer Hitman Richard Kuklinski The
Iceman Documentary. This is not for the
fainthearted. WARNING VERY GRAPHIC
MATERIAL for those of you that want to
view this. Also he was also known as the
Iceman. A book The Iceman written by
Anthony Bruno is his life story. It will
turn your world upside down. Incredible
reading.
Fabulous ice box ease
Fruit dried, sticky so sweet
Folded into Graham's
Famous brown cracker crumbs
Finely chopped nuts~yum! yum!
Famished come visit, stay
Fainthearted go away
Use sweetened condensed milk as a binder
Place a sheet of waxed paper into the Graham Cracker box
place the mixed ingredients into the box to form a rectangle
cover tightly with some type of cling wrap and let set up in
the refrigerator for at least overnight..
You can add~~ marshmallows(miniture ones), maraschino cherries with some of their liquid if a can of condensed milk isn't enough to moisten the crackers..You can use raisins, or other dried fruits if you like..I use those dried candied pineapple and cherries available at Christmas so it will be very colorful..Originally I used Brazil Nuts for the nuts and it does add a very nice flavor..It needs a cup of nuts, about two cups of the dried fruits..
My mind is experiencing a fastidious flatulence; slightly fiendish, and not for the
finicky or fainthearted.
I fidget amidst it's fanatical far-fetched farce yet stand fearless, watching it's face
flounder in a foolhardy feeble-minded foible.
With fervor I say farewell forever to it's festering, feverish fetish, as it's frantic
fiasco foams, flails and finally fails.
http://lovestruehome.com/
The dark of the night sky: clear, unlimited space
Lights and a bright white moon, of clouds no trace
The mood suddenly changes, the lights are faded
The vault of heaven is raided, the azure invaded
Realization in a flash, the barren moon stands abashed
Now fainthearted, lily-livered, her quiet joy is crashed
Hide not your face behind clouds the color of yellow dirt
I know your phases, feel your moods, I know you`re hurt
Battered, barren, lonely, evanescent orb of night
From your cursed dance peace you`ll never find
But I`ll be your fire eater, one who devours the sun
Artemis, Luna, Diana, your true name knows none
It was near our anniversary
what could i get my wife,
something really special
prove the quality of our life.
She started dropping hints
about what that could be,
something really shiny
to give her big whoopee!
Then she mentioned speed,
nought to one hundred and fifty,
she really put her foot down
it had to be real niffty.
Yes her mind was on the fast,
that was what she reckoned.
Nought to one hundred and fifty
in under just three seconds!
Then my penny dropped
it was not for the fainthearted,
I bought her bathroom scales!!!
Then the fight it started...
Oops
it was not for the fainthearted
Each Experience is locked
within my heart and only
I hold the key of sadness
of a human being in town
insight questions me
A beggar for a piece of bread
cries with extreme hunger
fainthearted, deserted
belongs to present generation
with my eyes I do see
Takes the wastes all we throw
eats on foot path,faded smile
along with street dogs and crows
lives life like a beast
My marketing goes on
Sleeps under a leafless tree
in railway plat form
near drain or under Over bridge
or under the sky for cold air
On costly silky bed I do rest
Clothes are torn and untidy
a gaunt face is filled with sorrow
sees with loopy eyes
drinks water with dirty mug
I like branded mineral water
Tears mixes with rain
no medicine for any pain
vehicles are only legs
a picture I enjoy senselessly
I am happy with modern civilization
For Premiere Contest number 5 - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: SKAT A
There will always be an England:
roast beef and Yorkshire pud
assure the most fainthearted
that all is for the good.
Is anyone still doubtful?
This thought our hopes restore:
Marmite, baked beans and crumpets
provision us galore.
Coffee at eleven, at five o'clock high tea,
banishing the terrors that met us at the Somme,
kept us and Big Ben ticking
and will to Kingdom Come.
Nelsons' on his column.
Against Juncker's spiteful quips
no naval power can save us,
but we do have fish and chips
And then the blunders of the past merged into serenity. Tranquility
ensued where wild storms had been raging.‘Safe travels’, they whispered
‘now you’re prepared and able to let go.’ The past became a beacon and compass when the ocean parted and gave life to the desert. A lizard danced around a bouquet of flowers. Devil’s Claw and Fairy Duster held hands as they swirled. Pirouetted once awoken from their slumber. Broken dreams reassembled for a new dawn.
aghast no longer he counted his many blessings
bewildering torment had faded into understanding
Charon gifted the Styx to recede for the time being
devils had stated their demonic point and gave way
enthused he rubbed his eyes from the fairy dust
foreclosed void and oblivion and grasped a nettle
ground zero recovered joy from smoldering ashes
he who mastered turmoil and uncomfortable truth
in defiance of hardship alighted from the drought
journeymen carry a flickering flame in their hearts
Kasim gave thanks to depression and disorientation
loosened the straps of straightjacket and shackles
myriads of dead ends gave birth to a fork in the road
navigated the spell of his name ‘controller of anger’
of meaning ‘defender protector gift division and oath’
purveyor of healing in the wilderness of doomed fate
‘Quo vadis’ they shouted ‘Veni Vidi Vici’ he replied
reliving bygone disaster had served malevolent dues
satisfied their purpose and may now rest in peace
transformation is not for fainthearted soulless minds
unveils instead signposts of blessed lessons for fun
vitality sprung upon him and recoiled from delusion
wasted no time once out of the box of tangled demise
xeric confusion ceased to dissatisfy unbearable thirst
yataghan’s lost handle reappeared and he gave thanks
zodiac longing finally offered surrender and firm gratitude
03rd August 2020
Quo Vadis? - Where are you going?
Veni Vidi Vici - I came saw and conquered
a yataghan is a double blade Turkish sword with no handle
WEST WIND 2
Be willingly wise with worthy ways as us Westerners
cos winter wind of woes wanders about
like a wandering Wolf windsurfing in wildlife.
Winter windup waves of weird wonder
wondrous enough to bring back Wayne Wonder
and wheeled at will the whole world with wows
which pose pridely like a waddy,
a wacko walking within waves of woes;
Whatsoever west wind wagged we wandered
as we become wanners, wearing wan expression,
warmly staring like a Wagga Wagga wading-bird.
Welcome was the words of windy west
as winsome breeze wapped my window and
wafted her sensuous witty wet perfume,
into my wide Afro-Western nostrils
waving wheats and weeds at will,
twas a whopping war wafture waxing souls warmly.
Why would wingless wild west wind worries
yet still, wags us with it's wondrous waves,
withdraws our eardrums with her windy drums
and whithered the plantation of peace
from the furrow of the fainthearted?
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Form: Alliteration/Chandler Sonnet
Copyright© April 2021.
His sins, many thousands of them,
Lie buried in the anonymous soil.
Over his mantelpiece a proverb hangs:
"Aus den Augen, aus dem Sinn."
On his shelf "Mein Kampf" is visible.
"It must never happen again,"
he is quick to reassure the fainthearted.
All else is new:
His car, his house, his political complexion,
His hairstyle, his face, everything.
Everything? No, not quite everything.
If you want a new car, you can buy one.
If you want a new house, you may get the money.
If you want a new political complexion,
You can always change your daily newspaper.
If you want a new hairstyle,
You can always pay a little extra.
If you want a new a new face, it can be arranged
(or rearranged).
And the heart, the old hard heart?
Ask for a transplant.
You can always ask, but
Not for love or money
Can you change the past.
Aus den Augen, aus dem Sinn Out of sight, out of mind
KARENA FROM SARENA
Like a bat out of hell,
In the dark does she dwell.
Thinks she’s La Belle,
But in fact a mere shell,
Her name is Karena,
And she lives in Sarena.
She tells fantasy tales,
About females and males,
Oh my, not the same,
All over again,
For upon my word,
All she says is absurd!
She assumes she is clever,
And to this end will never,
Admit she’s outsmarted,
That is only for the fainthearted
Says she is humble not famous,
Her thoughts quite outrageous!
So if you ever hear of Karena,
Who lives in Sarena,
Steer clear, for your name
Made mud by this dame
She burps and blurbs, insults hurls
A woman whose mind twists and twirls!
Pure Fantasy you say,
Absolutely, all the way!
On the wind's current,
face-swept and braving fret;
I push forward...facing a tough day,
never fainthearted: merrily drifting away!
I challenge my strength,
to fuse more enthusiasm;
to beat the puzzled clouds with ingenuity,
and they, frustrated, initiate a plot against me!
I laugh, making them infuriated,
and they respond with stronger blows;
thinking they can't be imitated!
Don't they know that I watch all their moves?
Call me a marine or a sky-diver,
I may not look too convincing for a liar;
the open sky lets me on the wind's current,
lifting me off the earth to deliver my stunt!
Where are my rivals? Are they hiding or
planning my imminent defeat?
I may be too naive to cheat,
but I am as swift as a hunting panther!
On the wind's current so rough,
aware and attentive, I make my living;
chasing the fearless eagles with a bluff,
vulnerable...yes, but unafraid and willing!
Copyright by Andrew Crisci