Best Forded Poems


Path Through Time

Warn path through time
Covered with nettles and thyme
Sprinkled with relics sublime
Sated with memories from my prime
Bridges crossed, harbored mined
Valleys forged, mountains climbed
Rivers forded, hollows divined
Peaceful pastures forever pined
Showered blessings o'er charted course
Thunderous trials skirted with every resource
Shining beacons along the road did hope reinforce
Clouded dreams abandoned with some remorse
Now channeling through life's narrowing pass
Peering longingly back at the quilted morass
Categories: forded, time
Form: Sonnet

Perseverance

Grass isn't  always greener on the other side born from poverty  Spanish-speaking English living  Nuyorican lots of siblings government living Brooklyn streets roaches in the cabinets rats roaming to get feed hand me downs put on a front meanwhile constant screaming push and shoving broken never to be spoken  scars fading  not without leave a profound reminder of the leather belt that made you jump every time it cross your flesh a lesson to be taught stomach growling  to be feed one to many sleepless nights no escaping our young fate but survive what doesn't break you sure to make you stronger looking back I have to say I survived my siblings and I back in the day not like today there would be no disrespect what would be call child abuse discipline was called back then learning respect your elders respect as you would want to be respected where has the love gone for one another for the wiser know more than the youth of today back in the day there would be no talking back eat what was served or starve eat nothing at all no name brands just what was a forded no talking back for a back slap would be your reward sure it was not right back then discipline was harsh but for those of us that made it were stronger respectful and know the value of a dollar sort to say how to make a dollar out of fifty cents think about it hard work never killed anyone now a day a easy way out is in demand is so sad instead of things getting better look around it's just beginning to get worse no respect no kindness no feelings lots of jealousy and envy lost of chaos broken homes broken people broken families corruption everywhere we turn  sure back in the day race poverty drugs  broken homes  played the role but we made it no cell phones no name brand clothes  no 
Internet no social media dinner time togetherness what you could afford is what you had and thankful for what little was had grateful for the little things in life it’s a shame that today's youth well never know back in my day I made it with dignity  and respect for one another other with little to nothing to love and respect do unto others as you would want to be done unto you I thought I had it bad but going back in time I see it made me more appreciative of the little things in life   
This poem is a  walk of perseverance in times of defeat
Categories: forded, allusion, change, life,
Form: Bio

Jail House Laughter

Forded laughter, empty of mirth.
A pretense of amusement, empty of worth.

Jail house laughter, hard and brittle.
Louder than normal, but means so little.

Laughing just to keep from crying,
their laughter just a sad way of lying.

Lying to themselves but not to me.
Their laughter, an aggravated assault on my reality.
Categories: forded, prison,
Form: Iambic Pentameter

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Premium Member Nordic Dreams

Through forded streams, nostalgia seems, to be a sense of Nordic Dreams
The pathways to yesterdays, appear to retreat to ample schemes.
Broken nails and nightingales lighten up your brooks and streams.
Take a lock of broken stock to see what truly seems.

Lilt repose in lily throws, is knocking at my silken chair
Through the slits, the moonlight sits, its gaze upon my flaxen hair.
Opportunity flaunts as debutantes, in appearance gracefully debonair.
Gentle words floating from the birds, act upon me without a care

As a white dove from above, with beads of honey running wild
I withdrew to be with you, for words that are Coleridge styled.
They come in turn, to gently discern, and then gather into a pile.
In a continuum, within this kingdom, they come at us all the while.

Though they seem as in a dream, to be of pure fantasy;
if I believe, I may conceive, to have them become reality.
They may seem far as a distant star, but may be in propinquity.
Permanence in ascertainments, can be a hallmark of destiny.

They address as they coalesce, the storefront pretentiousness
in giving description, within inscription, with literary prowess.
Words convey, contained in a foray, upon the domain of impressiveness,
they are contained as they remained, as acknowledged in cohesiveness.

All the rhymes during the times, taste as sweet as butter creams.
As a scribe would inscribe, the essence of moonbeams
In our yesterday, and today, written on papyrus reams
Both fantasy and reality, within the nostalgia of Nordic Dreams.
Categories: forded, fantasywords, may, nostalgia,
Form: Rhyme

The Masochistic Lovers

We have lived a false life, you and I, 
Chasing halcyon dreams through chaos and despair; 
We have ventured beyond the brink, 
And only just returned – with weakened knees 
And tremulous smiles, our hearts bruised anew 
In clandestine partnership we defied the gods, 
Breached life’s stony contract, and delved, 
Greedily, into Pandora’s box…
Like happy-go-lucky children together we forded the Styx, 
Splashing like toddlers in a paddling pool, 
Swallowing mouthfuls of strychnine like cough syrup
And at the charred gates we paid our sovereign dues,
So that we might be allowed in, 
To that candy store of the damned and deviant, 
Where at last we tasted it, the crumbled sugar dust of death; 
Laced with a vaporous tang of bittersweet destruction – 
What an addictive delight it was, what a charmer, 
And yet such a fickle mistress… 
Yet blithe as fools we ate it like air, 
And belched our ruin into the grim abyss
But no surprise perhaps, perverted souls that we are, 
We gloried in our self destruction, 
For masochism runs in our veins like blood, 
Leading us a merry marionette jig 
Down all the pathways of Hell, 
Through the Seven accursed Seals 
And at last to the feet of the Devil himself 
Where we kneel on scabbed knees and kiss his blackened feet 
For us it is a party trick, a dance on burning embers, 
With our demise hanging over our heads like a bleak piñata 
Just waiting to be crushed between Satan’s obsidian thumbs 
Oh fools you might call us, and you’d be right
Common sense we lack, a gaping hole between our liver and heart, 
Yet daring we have a-plenty, bursting through our pores; 
A mad light shines in our pin-needle eyes, we cackle like rooks, 
And feast on death as vultures gorge themselves on reeking carrion
For in the end it all tastes the same, and the out come is always, 
Unconditionally and irrevocably -  
Death
Categories: forded, angst, death, girlfriend-boyfriend
Form: Free verse

Dolphin Manifesto

now not anymore
the Island that isn’t
a loneliness but
Choice without being
There we were sitting and
The Sea was coming and
We (me and you) – a gorgeous staple,
Hooked, 
were creating and
we saw him (after years and years) how
he was entering
like a rainbow huge 
unattainable and
slow
brown – like a beam
(to hold for it)
nonpoetry - the other one is breakable 
when the meaning they wave – 
a hand of an insane man before a mirror 
nongame – the game is dead 
after Joyce and like a child is screaming
for the sandy tower after an adult 
(a cynical stone) carelessly and with no reason
forded through 
the dolphin is a life vital
and his existence aside of the genesis
and whole in the sea and whole 
is reflected 
nonliterature – the literature is dead
implicated into shape and ad of 
the language but
where is here the Rapture
of the dolphin – glamour
oh forgive me I am entering 
a someone else’s territory 
I am not a ventriloquist too
I do not practice knowledge 
there’s nothing new here each
new is unnamed
a vital place without a place
in a movement moveable 
smooth like blue 
fused in a deep bare 
white
Categories: forded, philosophysea, sea, , literature,
Form: Free verse


Send Off

Ugly are you with tearful eyes
The tears that never forded my cheeks
As did yesterday,too stubborn to stop
Perhaps the second it is that my eyes
Like a morning rose in a dewy garden
Got a burial under flowing salted water
As if, it makes me a lifeless brute
Because they hugged and pressed me hard
With tearful eyes they stared at me
To convey something hard to digest
My heart pains to see them weeping
Expressed my heart the agony slyly
Through the tears like a day rainy
Not same blood run through all
Nor are they my kith and kin
We know it all, it is a relation
With a deep feeling that grew tall
Stepped they back with a sobbing silence
After murmuring me a quivering ‘good-bye’
Now only silence speaks everywhere
In every room,every corner far and near 
Unused articles left by them lay there
Empty are the rooms, I find each time
But the odd breaths of  invisible occupants
Pacify for a while my perturbed  brain
Only loneliness beckons me with a smile
Teaching me a hard lesson consciously
It is another part of cruel life.
Categories: forded, bereavement, dedication,
Form: Elegy

Gilded Lady of the Night

Scented Nightingale sets sail
Foraging through every, well-forded dale
Primped, preened emasculated shell
Black crown renovated for sale
From seductive perch casts alluring spell
Easy catch your lucrative Grail
Burnished cloak gleaming 'neath the moon pale
Brightly adorned feathers flap and flail
Arched talons ready to caress and assail
Hoary head cocked; each passing suitor to hail
Chirping beak with flattering lines doth swell
Her prominent tail quivers at the sight of every, virile male
Innocent malingerer she'll stalk then trail
'Till clutching his beating heart and hearing his bleating wail
Categories: forded, allegory, passion,
Form: Rhyme

A Precious Gift

I walked the countryside for miles
I forded streams, I straddled stiles,
Taking joy from every tree
Lost in nature's reverie.

A woodpecker's staccato beat
Put rhythm in my weary feet,
In the shadows there, a deer
Unaware that I was near.

Grazing quietly in the trees
A gentle creature at it's ease.
Just a moment caught in time,
A moment though, that was mine.

Mother nature gave to me
That precious gift, a memory.
A day I had of near perfection,
A day to savour, in reflection.
© Gary Smith  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: forded, beauty, nature,
Form: Rhyme

Send Off

Ugly are you with tearful eyes
The tears that never forded my cheeks
As did yesterday,too stubborn to stop
Perhaps the second it is that my eyes
Like a morning rose in a dewy garden
Got a burial under flowing salted water
As if, it makes me a lifeless brute
Because they hugged and pressed me hard
With tearful eyes they stared at me
To convey something hard to digest
My heart pains to see them weeping
Expressed my heart the agony slyly
Through the tears like a day rainy
Not same blood run through all
Nor are they my kith and kin
We know it all, it is a relation
With a deep feeling that grew tall
Stepped they back with a sobbing silence
After murmuring me a quivering ‘good-bye’
Now only silence speaks everywhere
In every room,every corner far and near 
Unused articles left by them lay there
Empty are the rooms, I find each time
But the odd breaths of  invisible occupants
Pacify for a while my perturbed  brain
Only loneliness beckons me with a smile
Teaching me a hard lesson consciously
It is another part of cruel life.
Categories: forded, bereavement, dedication,
Form: Elegy

Send Off

Ugly are you with tearful eyes
The tears that never forded my cheeks
As did yesterday,too stubborn to stop
Perhaps the second it is that my eyes
Like a morning rose in a dewy garden
Got a burial under flowing salted water
As if, it makes me a lifeless brute
Because they hugged and pressed me hard
With tearful eyes they stared at me
To convey something hard to digest
My heart pains to see them weeping
Expressed my heart the agony slyly
Through the tears like a day rainy
Not same blood run through all
Nor are they my kith and kin
We know it all, it is a relation
With a deep feeling that grew tall
Stepped they back with a sobbing silence
After murmuring me a quivering ‘good-bye’
Now only silence speaks everywhere
In every room,every corner far and near 
Unused articles left by them lay there
Empty are the rooms, I find each time
But the odd breaths of  invisible occupants
Pacify for a while my perturbed  brain
Only loneliness beckons me with a smile
Teaching me a hard lesson consciously
It is another part of cruel life.
Categories: forded, bereavement, dedication,
Form: Elegy

Just Let Me Be

JUST LET ME BE


Never, never, never, never quit,
Mr. Churchill's the one who said it.
Of course, he had to stop,
Because now he's dead,
But he never did quit,
Time just ran out instead.
And it's not that I want to quit,
No, that's really not it.
There's just nowhere I want to go,
And that is sad,
It wasn't always so.

I'VE CLIMBED EVERY MOUNTAIN,
FORDED EVERY STREAM,
SEEKING THE RAINBOW'S END,
FOLLOWING A DREAM.
I'VE CHASED THE STARS, CIRCLED THE PLANETS,
RUN ACROSS CLOUDS AND THE SEA,
BUT NOW I JUST WANT TO SIT,
AND ASK JUST LET ME BE.

I'm down for the count but it's not reached ten,
So maybe I will rise again.
It hurts to feel so weak,
When you've always felt so strong,
But then you realize 
You were really weak all along.
And something that's really odd,
For years I looked to God,
But now I find that as I bleed,
There is no healer, No one to lead.


I'VE CLIMBED EVERY MOUNTAIN,
FORDED EVERY STREAM,
SEEKING THE RAINBOW'S END,
FOLLOWING A DREAM.
I'VE CHASED THE STARS, CIRCLED THE PLANETS,
RUN ACROSS CLOUDS AND THE SEA,
BUT NOW I JUST WANT TO SIT,
AND ASK JUST LET ME BE.



Wounded Healer
Submitted 12/21/09
Written 9/1/08
Categories: forded, depression, faith, hope, introspection,
Form: Dramatic Monologue

Premium Member Timeless

Timeless

Auspicious occasions
times thrice too many
for a star to pivot and
               ~~bunker
involving breathless
nebulous palls chances
forded o'er aroused
               ~~slumber
engaged specters
entrancing natures 
artful resolved
               ~~wonder
shone speckled
twilight stars
brilliantly wished
               ~~younger
ancient map trails
harvesting bluish
moon a gleaming
               ~~tumbler
rejoice spills hollow
depths made wholly
as tear ducts rapt
              ~~blubber
hugging past into
presence fondling
memories fell stars
              ~~go under
you feel the weight
of me lift apart as
firebolts I and you
              ~~asunder
bred surging rains
you trade your cries  
and I, your eyes calms
              ~~thunder
unleashing pains grips 
our sinuous veins as
the fleeting hours be a
              ~~stumper
I genuinely claim that
silvery star stay lively
atop to dawdle the not
              ~~somber
dwells the amour as
flesh tussle about
neath a gist moon's
              ~~lumber
our passionate plea
to labor our love more
knowing our time's
              ~~number
our hands and hearts hold
in dawn's presence as we
embrace all forever we will
              ~~remember

2020 September 26

*Honorable Mention*
COMPLETELY YOUR CHOICE (28)any form any theme
~~Brian Strand

*4th Place*
The night of passion and desire
~~Faraz Ajmal
© Hilo Poet  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: forded, moon, remember, romantic love,
Form: Rhyme

Our Secret Glade

We walked through fields of flaxen wheat
Crossed country lanes and ancient stiles,
We forded streams in joyous mood
It seemed we walked for miles and miles.

Way afar church bells rang out
Calling the flock to come and pray,
We listened to those plaintive peals
And with lifted hearts went on our way.

Through the woods we picked a path
Which to us was not unknown,
Yet to those who knew it not
It was but wild and overgrown.

Then towards our secret glade
A place of happiness and bliss,
Where the sweetest of our memories dwell
Where my love and I shared our first kiss.








Entry for
STRAND COMPLETELY NEW (21) ,any form, any theme Poetry Contest
12/8/2020. Placed=1st.
© Gary Smith  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: forded, joy, kiss, love,
Form: Rhyme

Middle-Aged Rose

Soft-scented rose in well-forded dale
Your taut stem worn and stale
When sprinkled, buds barely swell
Wavering petals your waning sail

Your contantly, preened leaves have lost detail
Filed thorns no longer suitors assail
Bushy foliage twines your lagging tail
Succulent scent no more casts alluring spell

Fawning heat has turned rosy hue pale
Abundant nectar from your pods will no longer trail
When pollinating lips against your fertile tips flail
Tapping into your fruitless, barren cell
Categories: forded, allegory
Form: Rhyme
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