Best Fame And Fortune Poems
I awake to the beautiful plaintive strains
Of a violin - then realize it’s just in my head
Just a dream - a shame to find
I’m in the hospital - same room - same bed
The monotonous ticking of the clock on the wall
Time, an indefinite progress of my existence
Time for my pills, time to call the nurse
Time not on my side, breaking down my resistance
After lunch a quick nap
Then the visiting hour I dread most of all
Seeing pity in their eyes, they wish me back
To what I was before my withdrawal
The world of music - my life - my love
The fame and fortune that once was mine
Exhilarating - Intoxicating, a wife at my side
With children sharing the Glory Divine
I lived it - I breathed it
Plucked at its very soul
The core of its existence in my hands
Like a faithful servant it played its role
I look at the painting on the wall
A feeling of Déjà vu enters it seems
I’ve seen this glade of lush green plants
And these sparkling bubbling streams
I remember drawing back watching afar
An Angel who danced in its midst
Who danced with wild abandon
Her hair that the sun had kissed
I remember wishing I could dance with her
With this Angel from above
A hundred birds would sing out loud
To watch us Dance to Love
But it’s just a painting - There’s no girl there
And I’m just a sick old man
Wallowing in my grief and sadness
Existing however best I can
What’s this I’m suddenly in the glade?
A young strong man once more
She has come for me, my Angel love
I leap - I twirl - I soar
The world I’ve left behind
Unshackled my attachments of
A hundred birds do sing out loud
To watch us Dance to Love
We dance with wild abandon
We dance without a care
With sun kissed skin our arms entwined
Wild flowers in our hair
Footnote:
We do not know for sure if my Father – who was a great violinist and classical musician, had imagined this story when he was a young man, when he chanced on a young girl dancing in the glade. It’s a story he told us many times and we loved to believe it.
I like to imagine a fitting finale to the first story, when his time came and have pictured it in this poem.
This story begins in my Poem arrangement 'Dance to Love - Part 1'
Valuable values
A child receives a beautiful toy,
it came in a cardboard box
with shiny wrapping paper.
A short time later
the child was seen
playing with the box
and the toy was abandoned in the corner.
Was it because the child was ungrateful?
Did the child not appreciate the value
of the gift?
Did the child not understand
what the gift was?
Did the child not comprehend
that the box
although it was beautiful,
it was empty, and had no value?
It's hard to comprehend all the why's,
but sometimes even we as adults
do the same things.
We value empty things
with shiny wrappers,
more than things of real value.
For example:
What's worth more, has more value,
your values, or money?
Would you compromise morals
your values, for riches and success?
Many do, thinking they will be happier
with more things.
Take Hollywood as an example:
Many have achieved fame and fortune
yet have not attained true happiness.
They chased the shiny boxes of success
because of the shiny wrapping paper
but in the end they are left feeling
empty.
Don't believe me?
why then do the rich and famous
also commit suicide?
Let's not make the same mistakes...
we can learn that our values
are what's valuable,
and when they are compromised,
or sacrificed,
we lose,
more than what we may gain.
When we lose our values
we lose ourselves....
because we are the gift...
we have the gift of life...
we prove by how we use it,
or abuse it,
whether we are grateful,
or not,
for the gift,
to the giver,
or whether we prefer
shiny empty boxes.
October 11, 2016
John Derek Hamilton
Como’ Si’ Yama’, Senor’
Como’ Si Yama’, Por Favor’…
… for Below That Embroidered Sombrero’
Shone Eyes Like El Dorado
He Was A Tall and Handsome Hombre’
Like The Range of Sierra Madre’
…Now, He Sat Center The Cantina
Surrounded by Bonita – Senhoritas
He Smiled, “Buenos-Dias Senora’”
Por Favor, Por Que’ El-Hora’ ?...
If So, Have A Seat, Mi- Amiga’
And Mercedes, Bring Over More Cerveza
He Was… Rodrigo Reyes-Pacheco’
Best - of The West, of Vaqueros’
He Came to Compete in The Rodeos
And Win Fame and Fortune in Pesos’
He Came Thru El Paso De’ Tejas
Thru Dusty Rancheros and Mesas
To Ride on El Toro Rojo
Who Has Never Been Ridden Befo’…
La Viva’… Arriva’ … Rodrigo
The Brave and The Bold Caballero’
Champion Bull Rider, from Old Mexico
Vaya’… Con Dios’ !... Rodrigo
Now, El Toro Rojo, Was Dangerous
For Killing Men, El Rojo, Was Infamous
His Horns Had Pierced Many A Corazon
Ripped Flesh, Like It Was Piñata’ Hung
I Informed All of This To Rodrigo
The Hombre, Was Bent on Being Macho’…
… He Would Ride Toro Rojo, Manyana’
Said “Gracias”… But My Cares Were Por Nada’ !
La Viva’… Arriva’… Rodrigo
The Brave and The Bold Caballero’
Champion Bull Rider, from Old Mexico
Vaya’… Con Dios’!... Rodrigo
… Now, He Wasn’t Loco in La Cabeza’
I Just Didn’t Comprehende’ … “Que’ Pasa”
But I Saw Rodrigo Atop… El Rojo
… ! He Rode Like A Latino – Tornado ! …
He Rode El Rojo, To The End…
Then, Turned ‘Round and Rode Him Again…
Rodrigo had Won… Just Like He Planned…
Because El Toro – Rojo … … Was Mexican !
La’ Viva’ … Arriva’ … Rodrigo
The Brave and The Bold Caballero
Champion Bull Rider from Old Mexico
Vaya’ … Con Dios ! … Rodrigo….
Vaya’ … Con Dios !... Rodrigo o o o o o
for Ruben Ortellao...
I Don't Really Know
What Your Branch of Humanity is...
(Spanish, French or Other)
But I thought You Might Like
This Whimsical Poem...
Oh... And Thank You For Your
Most Generous Comments...
(Cause I Know You Are A Fantastic Poet...
I've Read Several of Yours
and I Love Them Too...)
(P.S. Excuse the Spelling...
I'm Spanish Illiterate (Smile)
MoonBee
The Only Way Life Makes Sense
Life only makes sense if we can relate it to values which last
Think of people who have meant something to you from the past
Parents, siblings, friends, teachers
Jesus,marriage partners and preachers
All their influence on us is vast
Remove one person, we would be different
Maybe less fortunate if asked
Seeking fame and fortune as goals you most cherish
Many wealthy and famous sought this
Then through suicide or overdose perish
God's love for us through Jesus is what makes life make sense
Being kind and loving to others even at our own expense
Life makes sense if someone might think of us one day
Grateful in their life we passed their way
Sharing relationships, love, blessings leave lasting impressions
To both the giver and receiver more valuable than any possessions
In the small verdant village of Kora-Kay
Live peaceful folk who fish, eat and play
At sunset they dance around drum circles and sing
Of yesteryears’ joys and what tomorrow may bring
The words fame and fortune are never needed
As their bounty—food and friends—cannot be exceeded
At death, forever with loved ones they’ll dwell
Knowing of heaven but nothing of hell
One night a group of strange men wander in
Their translator tells them all about sin
There will be no family to greet them up in the sky
Only hell if they believe their own heathen lie
In hell they will burn in eternal flame
For their unrepentant, filthy, naked shame!
They will scream in torment, their pleas unheard
If they do not immediately accept the word
Each child cries and runs to their wailing mother
As elders give despairing looks to each other
Kora-Kay’s chief strolls in to solemnly say
We are a welcoming people, but you must go away
In the small verdant village of Kora-Kay
Dwells a peaceful folk who fish, eat and play
Written 5/29/22
Your Favourite Poem From The First Half Of 2022 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Julia Ward
Burn the night with your yellow shine, fall to my feet with a bleeding heart that begs to exist in my world of fame and fortune. You come and you used and abused my love of truth and expect forgiveness. He who waits for such forgiveness waits in vain for at night’s end he shall fall like burnt out ash in mid December that serves to bring fourth only warmth and comfort. With tear filled eyes I shall sit and watch you fall to the ground where all murders of the heart go. Squeezing and breathing are skills I have picked up along the road side of lusted souls lost to the hands of flying crows who's one mission is to pick your eyes out at the fist chance they get. Fade assure room less homes, crack walls, broken windows and wingless planes fly high and sore like a bird of rested soul. In memory of me who lie in her dug out grave seeing a tiny glimpse of the moon and stars fade.
I'm not in competition with anyone
I have no wish to play the game
I am just trying to be better
Than the person I was yesterday
If I can accomplish that goal
My life has been a great success
Fame and fortune are fleeting
What's important when your time is up
Is the kind of person your were
Not the amount in your bank account
But how many lives you affected
In a positive manner
How many people you made smile
With those silly bits of nonsense
Those moments are worth
All the wealth one can garner
In a whole entire lifetime
When that final day arrives
You'll be remembered for your humility
Your kindness and your positive nature
In a world that needs it oh so badly
No one is beyond reproach
But I sincerely hope I'll be remembered
As a caring loving person
Who enjoyed life to the fullest
I held my small beautiful thing in my hand
Precious pure perfection
Oh how it brought me joy
You asked me “May I see what you are holding?”
I responded “Of course my dear friend.”
You blissfully beheld its shimmering shine.
For a moment you were speechless.
I felt you understood.
I wrapped my small beautiful thing
Placed it carefully away
Sharing it with you made me feel special
Every day you asked me about it
I had hoped you would forget about it
You said “Such beauty should be shared with the world!”
I did fancy fame and fortune.
I remembered how special I felt when I shared it with you.
My small beautiful thing grew
Somehow it changed
It was not itself anymore
As my ego expanded
My inner self shrank
becoming small
Everything I had went to protecting my large beautiful thing
I could no longer hold it in my hand
Then one day, or should I say in the night
A stealthy stranger stole it
He hid it far away
It became small again
It prefers it that way
I cried and felt relief at the same time.
Without it I found my privacy
I felt myself graciously grow.
As days passed I thought
“Maybe it was never really my small beautiful thing.”
In the end that’s okay.
Photo from ShutterStock.
She dances to the rhythm at a place where cowboys gather
She dances in the evening and in the afternoon
She's got no place she'd rather be and that's a wonderous thing
She knows a thousand tunes at the Buckle Up Saloon.
She looked for fame and fortune in a place called New York City
The price of fame was high and the friendly folks were few
Took a train ride back to Texas where some folks still ride horses
And thought about the cowboy who hoped she'd say "I do"
Well,she plays a lonely guitar and she sings of love and loss
And wonders where he calls home and if he's gone for good
While she thinks about the music and the memories he left -
Sings about the days gone by and hopes he understood
She dances to the rhythm at a place where cowboys gather
She dances in the evening and in the afternoon
She's got no place she'd rather be and that's a wonderous thing
She knows a thousand tunes at the Buckle Up Saloon
4-16-18
If we were tomorrow’s headline
would we be missing lovers
reported as lost without a trace
or simply declared guilty
by the court of hearts and souls
traitors to the quest of love
have our stories to each other
simply become yesterday’s news
like day old doughnuts
cheaper by the dozen
there was a time my love
when we planned our very lives
on paper napkins
dreams were all that we could afford
the promise of fame and fortune mere gossip
every sunrise a fresh new edition
IRISH
Many are the boyhood fantasies gazing into a cozy winter's blaze,
Or watching vagabond clouds scudding on lazy summer days,
Or in deep reverie with glazed eyes holding his fishing pole,
As he idles away a summer afternoon at his favorite fishing hole!
Building myriad model airplanes from tissue paper and balsa wood,
Dreaming of becoming the ace of aces, oh, if he only could!
Lying in bed hearing the plaintive whistle of the midnight freight;
Engineering that huffing, chuffing monster - wouldn't that be great!
Yearning desperately be a gallant soldier defending his nation.
Maybe even becoming a famous general receiving great adulation.
Perhaps a humble pastor ministering to his beloved flock,
Or a famous scientist finding cures for rare diseases to unlock!
Oh, to become a winning Indy five-hundred mile race driver,
Or explore the ocean depths as a daring deep-sea diver.
"Do you suppose", he muses, "that I could become a movie star,
Or strum my way to fame and fortune on the classical guitar?"
A notion is joining the circus to become a trainer of wild beasts.
Possibly a renowned chef preparing tasty delights for exotic feasts.
Ah, so many things he aspires as he ponders his many visions!
Dream on lad - you've plenty of time for weighing your decisions!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
On My Eighty Fifth Birthday
Another Birthday…I’m still alive
Never thought that I’d survive
To the ripe old age of Eighty Five!
But here I am…feisty still
Even though I’m over the hill!
Don’t count me out...Don’t ring that bell
I’m still here and raising hell!
Had a few blimps along the way
But I’m not leaving, I’m here to stay
Still have plans…I’m not done yet
I may do things I may regret
But I’ll have fun doing it
You can bet!
It matters not how old you are
You can dream your dream
Or follow your star
Your flesh may fail you
Your steps may be slow
More and more wrinkles start to show
But there is one thing I surely know
A man isn’t judged by how he looked
Or the size of his fortune or pocketbook
The greatest legacy he leaves behind
Isn’t intelligence or a fertile mind
But the love he gave to his family and friends
A heart full of love always transcends
Fame and fortune in the end
So Happy Birthday again to me
How many more…..?
We’ll just have to see
In the meantime friends
You’ll be hearing from me!
Copyright©2013 Beatrice Boyle
(All rights reserved)
Echoes
By Chuck Keys
The park is empty,
Littered with broken bottles,
Unsightly weeds of irregular lengths,
Varying debris and memories of bygone days.
Void of voices from games past played
Of cheers, sneers, angers and joys
When children screamed, frolicked and stayed.
The wind and silence scream a loud.
Families, picnics and camp fires echo from the past.
Shared foods of gastrointestinal delight flowed freely.
Desserts of Smores, with chocolate bars, fired crispy marshmallows
Smushed inside graham crackers.... Mmm.
Where have yesterday's children gone to play?
To fields of varying sports,
Arenas for love, war, tranquility,
For sport, fame and fortune or death.
The journey begins and ends with each moment of life.
Roads traveled daily become the final journey,
Made up of echoes from past travels,
As life and death converge into an ongoing existence.
Never ending.
© Charles H Keys, 2010. All Rights Reserved.
Sir Henry Morgan was a privateer,
And a ruthless, mean buccaneer;
Considered a pirate by the Spanish,
He became, in time a millionaire.
Henry was born in Wales to a farmer,
Gaining fame and fortune by valour;
He made a name for himself in Jamaica,
Soon he joined the Navy to become a sailor.
Captain Morgan and his large fleet,
Plundered the coast of Cuba to defeat;
Torturing the residents for their riches,
His ships and men did not know, retreat.
He enriched himself and his crew,
With hundreds of men and many ships too;
They attacked the Spanish Main,
On armed galleons, swiftly they flew.
Life on a wooden ship was not romantic,
Damp and cramped, filthy and botanic;
Pest infested; food spoiled and water reeked,
Sailors died, and some jumped ship, frantic.
He was ordered by Jamaica's Governor,
To return to port as a lawbreaker;
Morgan refused and gathered more ships,
He found the most daring pirates ever.
They set sail to attack Portobello with hopes,
Storming the Fort with ladders and ropes;
Staying for two months gathering and looting,
Collecting wealth, then leaving on their boats.
Morgan continued for years to plunder,
Talking enemy ships and prisoners;
He was finally arrested but found not guilty,
And he was appointed Jamaica's acting Governor.
___________________________
August 19, 2015
Rubaiyat
For the contest, A Storm On The Spanish Main, sponsor, Joe Maverick
Second Place
The bombs have dropped
and shots long ago fired.
Although some are dead
the others have retired.
Through the deadly jungles
and other rugged terrain.
These are the lucky souls
who still do remain.
So please honor them...
Our military Veterans.
Blood and tears they
have shed for this nation.
Fighting for our freedom
and our families preservation.
Our respect they deserve
and their bravery not forgot.
For fame and fortune
they have not sought.
So please honor them...
Our military Veterans.