Best Frey Poems
Darkness falls blood swept fields today
Haunting sounds come from shattered bone
Stench floats, hangs from bodies decay
and cries are heard in fields of stone
Terrified men will turn to clay
Anguished faces that have no name
They are stepped on as they moan
No questions asked or feeling shame
Moonlight filters trees burned away
Hearts turn cold while fatigue has shown
Blood sticks to boots from the footway
Each man apart feeling alone
Sees his name on a gravestone stay
From this wanted war that they blame
As some scream out from deaths they own
No questions asked or feeling shame
Army of men cry from the frey
and hear whispered sounds, dead men groan
The cursed memories they will weigh
Men curl in darkness, fear has grown
They had to pass through hell's archway
and found no heros or acclaim
Only meadows of death they've sown
No questions asked or feeling shame
The anger comes, they can't postpone
Dead men's faces fill their mind's frame
Their nightmares now will set the tone
No questions asked or feeling shame
I changed ABABBCBC to ABABACBC
contest Ballade
4/28/15
So bashful to the wind the day sets at bay
recollecting the past of the stilled clay,
mounded mind distract the dew
observing the mountains in the view,
combusting in it's self the rain flaws
cold winter winds build it's claws,
to tangle the day amoung the clear
just to await what could be coming near,
golden spokes of torned day
breaks the path of wilted frey.
Oh No! Oh No! What has my son done? I hope it’s, not already to late!
He lives at a fraternity house, and surely, you know THAT intense mental state.
March has St. Patrick’s Day, Spring Break, and has, of course, Easter in it, too.
So they decided to have some great fun, yes, a fun filled month to happily ensue.
They invited a Leprechaun, the Easter Bunny, and the king of bongos, a gnome.
Apparently they convinced everyone it’d be more fun, to Simply… Stay… Home.
The whole campus flooded thru that fraternity house, in the party’s that ensued.
And they convinced the Easter Bunny to do jello shots in every color and hue.
He became known as THE BUN, yes, The One who finally, truly could fly…
And the Leprechaun danced till he dropped… to a great bongo serenade, aye.
There was no SIMPLY about this! As the music rocked the frat house, next door.
And girls were seen coming and going, at all hours, even passed out on the floor.
This was the party no one missed… even the frat house with the snobs, were there.
It’s said even some of the President’s security attended, partying there, somewhere.
Before they were done, a plan was sown, as the gnome found it’s yearly, new home.
Yes, it got there, in Washington somehow, on the top of the Real ‘White House’ Dome.
But along the way THE BUN was lost… some where along the never-ending roads.
The Leprechaun called me, our Dragons and Trolls, to help, to search the highroads.
The poor little guy was so pie eyed, when we found him along that crazy way, so…
We fixed him up, we didn’t give up, until we could send him, into that Easter Frey.
Your words and songs they
touched our souls.
In disbelief, sad news unfolds.
In intensive care you fought the
fight!
On this sad night you lost your life!
Your lying eyes will play
forever.
You Being here, would be much
better.
Band members are missing you.
Adoring fans they feel it to!
Thank you for giving us one
last show. In Buffalo you played
your best Rock and Roll.
At the Sad Cafe we will go and see.
Why fortunes smile on some and
lets the rest go free.
Tequila Sunrises will guide
your way. Your cherished
songs will play and play.
I wish you well my dear old friend.
This world will never be the same...
Michael Tor
Dedicated to Glenn Frey Eagles Band founder.
"Wonder why fortunes smile on some and lets the rest go
free." Is taken from lyrics of Sad Cafe Song off the Long
Run album. I am forever grateful to Elena and my brother
Gus for getting me the tickets to their last to last concert
in Buffalo NY. They played one more together in Toronto.
Toronto was their last with Glenn alive. Long live Glenn Frey.....
Galileo had his turn.
But with much still left to learn
the brown dwarf sat-----waiting.
Then came hubble to the frey.
Seeking in a finite way
the brown dwarf teasing.
Nibiru, if confirmed,
a new planet we have turned
from mystery to being.
7/30/2005 9:36:34 PM Google "Nibiru"
A planet larger than Pluto has been discovered
in the outlying regions of the solar system.
The planet was discovered using the Samuel
Oschin Telescope at Palomar Observatory near
San Diego, Calif. The discovery was announced
today by planetary scientist Dr. Mike Brown of
the California Institute of Technology in Pasadena,
Calif., whose research is partly funded by NASA.
"Birds of Prey"
flights of fancy
forget freedom
has its price
a dance of
do or die
bluebirds
in Sing Sing mode
learn to pray
just as owls
and eagles
never surrender
a dance of
do or die
blue birds
become phoenix
above the fray
lit by light
carried on the back
of Frey
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
Lux Vitae.
"The bluebird carries the sky on his back."
Henry David Thoreau
"It chanced one day that Freyr
had gone to Hlidskjálf,
and gazed over all the world;
but when he looked over
into the northern region,
he saw on an estate,
a house great and fair.
And toward this house
went a woman;
when she raised her hands
and opened the door before her,
brightness gleamed from her hands,
both over sky and sea,
and all the worlds
were illumined of her."
Frey. meaning, Scandinavian.
Frey. Meaning, German.
Fray (noun).
Britannica dictionary
Pray.
Prey.
18 Stoic Faces
- by Bob Atkinson
eighteen stoic faces
faced four who had come
to read the erudite refrains
of poets both dead and gone
readings were in earnest spoken
for respect for some who had
garnered from the establishment
accolades, awards, well sanctioned
yes, eighteen stoic faces
faced four who read so good
those meaningless diatribes
of useless linguistic words
significance became not evident
for similes provided here
metaphors vaguely crafted caused
me not them to revere
this didn't change my attitude
my demeanor didn't rise
waiting for an end to it
was my only real desire
so I couldn't clap and whistle
and be smiling in my face
that would not have been sincere
became just a little bit ashamed
whistle I didn't do at all
felt not much real emotion
gave a polite nod to those speaking
headed quickly out the door
save me from disjointed thoughts
can't those people see the truth
senseless disorganization
does not good poetry produce
of those thoughts not poetry
I firmly do believe
the fireplace requires cellulose
for bright flames to feed
listless words written poorly
carried my imagination not
was frozen in my dreamy state
rusted any worthwhile thoughts
next week went to Vegas
to see the eagle band
and watch as pure emotion
rocked that audience grand
ten thousand had paid apiece
a couple hundred bucks
to see those wordly masters
like Henley, Frey and such
they told of the situation
which emotion played upon
a woman's real life choices
why she'd become despondent
ten thousand cheered upon
recognition of great words
displayed while coddled with sounds
soft guitars and drums beat purrs
I thought "now here lies real poetry"
not those prissy kind of words
that speak only of the unimportant
with wispy mindless verbs
some lock credentials grand
for that which moves us not
and laugh at the suggestion
that song is our greatest art
me, I have a vision
that we shall all enjoy
songs we've grown up with
as emotional literal tomes
Sailing in their long ships with a dragon head on the bow
Vikings were a hardy people from a land of ice and snow
Known for their adventures far wide and across many seas
Bringing culture and beliefs, sailing from 950-1050 A.D.
Traders who settled, leaving their Danish homeland
Looking for a heaven found by the name of Vineland
In their Gods was a strong belief, by Odin they were lead
Blazing by the virtues of nine in their stead
TRUTH was a belief held in high regard, from deep within
In the sense of honesty- essential for kith and kin
Ruled by HONOR- morality more than reputation
Without regret these Vikings lived, no hesitation
Following in the ways of Frey, FIDELITY to the Gods
To their family and clan, they lived without facade
DISCIPLINE is the action to all beliefs they held fast
Personal will - their conquests to lands unsurpassed
The civilization practiced HOSPITALITY to unselfish ends
Never knew when on a cold night, one might need friends
INDUSTRIOUSNESS made the Vikings active with vitality
Living each day to it's fullest, abundant morality
The clan could not survive without SELF RELIANCE
To do for one, is to do for all- tribe alliance
COURAGE and bravery to face life's struggles and PERSEVERE
Foraging upon strange lands and taming the new frontier.
Won 3rd place in the "Broad Horizons" contest by Deborah Guzzi
The Nine Noble Virtues of the Vikings.
A. Green
Memorable songs touching our lives over the years. Magical musical
harmonies, tantalizing our listening ears.
Sentimental lyrics with chosen tranquil words. Perfect sounds in those
resonating guitar chords.
What a surreal feeling watching them play. Got lost in the moment, as
I was taken away.
Memories were made as they rocked all their fans. A Classic, Hotel
California, was played. Over and over again...
Long live Glenn Frey
Michael Tor 8/20/2015
One of many fans of the Eagles Band.
Dedicated to my brother Gus and his Lovely bride Elena.
It's been almost ten years to December 2002 since Laci Rocha-Peterson and her unborn son were killed by her loser husband, Scott Peterson. This case has haunted the lives of all of the citizens of a California town called Modesto; just outside of San Francisco. It seems that Laci's life was ended permanently too soon, especially when she had planned on giving birth to Scott's first born son, Connor. Both of her parents (her mom and step-dad) were angry, her brother was also angry and dismayed, the people were shocked and disgusted, and so on. Scott Peterson was afraid to be a father, that he never wanted to spend the rest of his so-called "life" with his late wife, and, on top of all that, Mr. Peterson was also afraid that his late wife, Laci, would find about his love affair with another woman named Amber Frey, so he killed her as a cowardly act. Laci Rocha-Peterson and her first born son really didn't deserve to die by the hands of her own husband, their own flesh and blood. She and her son had a whole life ahead of them, especially when her son, Connor, was about to begin the first day of school and stuff. But now that baby Connor and her mother are not on planet Earth and in heaven now, their family members, especially her parents and his grandparents, are still in a depressive mode. What kind of human being would want to dump his or her spouse in a body of water, let alone the San Francisco Bay? Who does that? The media, including the CBS Network, Nancy Grace, and the San Francisco Post were all over the Laci Peterson case, especially when everybody knew that Scott Peterson Selfishly killed his own wife and unborn son. What a coward he is and/or was. Scott may have had all of the ones he loved fooled, but when he walks into the death chamber and is executed by lethal injection, God will decide his punishment. And when He does, Scott Peterson will pay for what he did to his wife and own son, his own flesh and blood. The spirits of Laci Rocha-Peterson and her son will live on in their relatives' lives and through the hearts of the ones who knew her. May she and her son rest in peace.
From what time or place does this White bird hail?
With clapping thunder and striking lightning upon shale.
A feeling of dread before a feeling of fear,
knowing but wishing the creature wasn't near.
Creaking with sneaking does the wooden floor quake,
slowly and surely, the walls begin to shake.
A trickster and eater of men they say,
once thought a tale but now truth, pray.
Safety and escape would all be for naught,
for the beast would find you with all but a thought.
Plumage of white with specks of blood,
will it ever stop? or will the bodies flood.
A hunter of man steps forth from the Frey,
intent on making the beast-bird his prey.
Stabbing and slashing with all of his might,
into the beast's eyes to remove it's sight.
Biting and tearing the bird's wings away,
ensuring it can't fly yet another day.
rendered to naught was this great bird now made,
escaping from humanity and into obscurity would it fade.
Once majestic and fearsome, the bird king now shunted.
The great trickster-bird had now become...The Hunted.
Listen Sister HEARING this makes you WONDER…
I am a PHOTOGRAPHER and I can be a RAPPER...
And If I would; I could play in MANCHESTER…
All I wanted with HER, was to be her, BROTHER…
All I wanted was to take him to a MOTHER…
I can be a BROTHER, and without playing HER, I can be FATHER….
AND I can MAKE my baby in a MOTHER…
NOW may be a train have played your brain…
THIS can makes you CRY also can make you FLY…
To FEEL SORRY to Relieve Some PAIN…
It’s all about playing the brain.. it ALL started in a TRAIN.. when a psychologist told me you are INSANE…
AND I was CURIOUS to know why he was SO FURIOUS..
I had a tobacco I DIDN'T’T say ‘’MAKO’…
Despite I was high that GUY made CRY…
I LATTERLY told him I’m here in GERMANY and I’M not AN ENEMY... ’
I CAME to Europe LEGALLY…
I’m PHOTOGRAPHER and I can be RAPPER…
If you want I can take you to a MOTHER…
despite I was high that guy made CRY…
IT WAS NEVER TOO LATE RUN THE MIXTAPE…
HOW come a PHOTOGRAPHER TRIGGER ANGER and make somebody SAY TODAY I’m a STRONGER…
HOW come a PHOTOGRAPHER trigger ANGER… and tell somebody what doesn't’t kill you make you STRONGER…
he thought I was a FREY..
he told me today I fight my WAY…
every body is smart in his own WAY…
and If YOU think I’m PERFECT,, I can SAY I’m a PROPHET…
THANK YOU for BEING elegant WAKING UP the inelegant may be I’m a bit ARROGANT…
But that’s Okay because one Day I’ll get on a PLANE and will SORRY for PLAYING your daughter BRAIN…
HER BROTHER will come laughing ALL THE WAY… telling us how beautiful she was THAT DAY….
TOGETHER SISTER they will FLY AWAY…
I used to tell people wake up and then at one point when all I could say is that I’m messed up…
I SPEAK what I FEEL and If I want I kill I can’t do IT for REAL,,,
I’m TUNISIAN, AFRICAN, ARAB, BERBER, AND I truly DO CARE…
I SMOKE weed it is not a SIN,, it is JUST a MEDICINE…
BIG HANDS DON
I s’pose I’ve been a cowboy since I was just a ‘teen
But I was herd’n bad guys, see I cowboy’d for the queen
I rode with lots of partners up and down the asphalt trail
Those that cut the corners and those that wouldn’t fail
Some were rough and ready and a few just down right tricky
One sticks in my memories, he’s Big Hands Don Molicki
Now Big Hands wore a smile that surely was no bluff
It didn’t seem to phase him when customers got rough
His presence was imposing, a draft horse in the stable
When muscle was required Big Hands was more than able
He was who ya wanted to back ya in the bar
Or wrestling ornery critters into a police car
But after all the action of solving crime and caper
We’d head back to the office and put it down on paper
Well this is where the smile just melted off his face
His hands were hardly suited for a secretary’s place
Fat fingers on the keyboard, the letters surely flew
But when he’d aim for W he’d hit E S and Q
One late night as he toiled to fix his shift report
The waste pail full beside him with pages he’d abort
His mighty fist then crashed down hard upon the keys
And he cursed so that we knew this wern’t no time to tease
The rest of us were busy putt’n guns and cuffs away
When one went over to him and entered in the frey
He thought his gun unloaded when he aimed at that machine
And said “I’ll solve your troubles” then pulled the trigger clean
We stood there in a dither when we heard that pistol bark
While the bullet pierced the heart of the exclamation mark
When eardrums quit their ringing and smoke commenced to clear
Our minds turned to excuses for the questions sure to hear
When mounties fire their side arms, reports they have to make
We figured this was one we’d probably have to fake
But every new rendition of the lie that we would give
Seemed just about a shaky and water in a sieve
It finally was decided in the middle of the night
We’d call the Sarge and fess-up, not a pretty sight
With courage fully mustered, the Sergeant home in bed
Was told the gruesome details, he asked “ya think it’s dead!!”
The month or so that followed slipped by without no gripin’
Big Hands did all our bull work, we did all his typin’
Give me a chance-
Let me sing and dance-
I am stative-
Want to be creative-
Let me enjoy the music prance-
Give me a chance.
I shall run and jump on green frey
I shall enjoy indoors my cosplay
Take me around china and france-
Give me a chance –
Let me sing and dance.
Walk the beach and woods and jump on snow-
Talk to parrots and pigeons and sparrow-
Make me feel ecstasy trance
Give me a chance-
Let me sing and dance.
(sami)
With unsettled heart,
I say this,
Though,I hope to be brisk
In this rage
And more...
I wish I relinquish
The flow of terrific vengeance
Going here and there
Moving like blood
Down those streams,
Thus exciting so much,
So much negative energy
That my veins feel ablaze
Uncle zulu!
Thank the gods for these tenets
That keeps you awake
And steady in this state
That in my stinking bate
I pardon your insolence
For not only d aged knows disrespect
When seen.
You that your other half showed mercy
You that never wish another
Such uplifting u wish yourself
Epitome of blight
You are darkness
With no atom of light.
The master of trade by barter
No wonder,
To fetch some gold
You would easily give your seed
Now in light
I would pronounce you worthless
Dreamless being
Uncultured
Happy that time made you old,
Some respect to the gray
But still no hidden Frey
By this you know
That though little the age
Respect is meant
For those deserving.
Dear uncle Zulu!
To you,another seed from within I seem
But should in-case
You try in your little head
To decipher the purpose of my being
Or try compare me with yours
I would say,
I am your king
The one who will
See your gray,
Go down flat,
In homage at my sight
I am the Joseph
From whose desk you shall feast.