Best Gauntlets Poems
I took umbrage over a comment in a current blog, in part stating that poetry, "... is a battlefield..." No. There should be no gauntlets thrown, no darts hurled, and no negative words hurled as if Poetry Soup is a battlefield. I was motivated to write...
Over and over again, blogs become a wallowing hole
where ugliness brews contempt and always takes a toll
on those who are trying to make a simple observation.
Someone takes offense and that provokes confrontation
by a tadpole who'll be a frog and not Prince Charming.
Ya know... the narcissistic type who think it's alarming
that they're ideas are not accepted by others on the site.
Then, it's "Katie, bar the door" and get ready for a fight!
Pollywogs keep swimming in rippling waters of the Soup,
where they take a dump, but don't think of it as 'Poop.'
Blogs are sandboxes where nasty words become litter.
Catty remarks are made by the arrogant and the bitter.
Not surprising, the same ones cut up with their mocking.
It's the same MO they use when they come a knocking...
knocking on new blog doors and causing a ruckus inside.
That's crossing a line that no one should ever take in stride.
Some abuse blogs, as if they're churches or synagogues.
If any part of Poetry Soup should go, it should be the Blogs.
Not as some redundantly claim, should be poetry contests...
Objected to by rallying sponsors and poets in fervid protests.
Blogs serve as playgrounds but break all schoolyard rules
when some can't stop themselves from acting like fools.
There's fighting and tugs of war... never for a good cause.
Gettin' tough over trivial stuff puts a pinch in their drawers.
For gosh sake, act like adults instead of flakes and nuts.
There's never and excuse for acting like a rattlepated putz.
Categories:
gauntlets, community, conflict,
Form:
Rhyme
“Maverick”
Mavericks are made
in the silence
spent
where
freedom
is kept locked tight
in solitary confinement
moments melting
down visceral pain
through love
and
loveless madness
fierce swords are
grown from what’s
left of the shattered
Heart’s core
self-belief taken up again
intellect fox cunning
running the gauntlets
between the
dishonour guards
in Hell’s burning rain
Majesties are silver spoon
and coddled born
Mavericks are delivered
from hot kitchens and
cool as milk made
to lead
Warriors Brave
through
The Storm
Mavericks are made
to reign
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
"I am the master of my sea"
Maverick
An unorthodox or independent-minded person.
Categories:
gauntlets, appreciation, courage, freedom, i
Form:
Free verse
Layin down this heavy sword for a spell,
Dropping these rusty gauntlets of shame.
A shadow cast thought I knew so well.,
Layin down this heavy sword for a spell.
Open arms long for hugs, but who can tell..
Love left a heart broken yet whole again.
Layin down this heavy sword for a spell,
Dropping these rusty gauntlets of shame.
Categories:
gauntlets, absence, heart, life, loss,
Form:
Triolet
Amour
comes with its price
masked armour
worn fiercely
by dark nights
eventually
lifted
for love or folly
facing what’s
in front of you
the past
dark knights
removed
the once broken
now unbreakable
the veiled
amour
unveiled
Armour
comes with its price
arrives brandishing
like a sword its prize
delivers its secrets
all in good time
gauntlets
thrown down
wrists and palms
exposed, holding out
for the crown
all for Amour
the darkest night
light shining knight
bare faced and naked
at a Sovereign's feet
eventually
kneels down
Candide Diderot. ‘24
amour
armour
night
knight
Categories:
gauntlets, dark, light, love, night,
Form:
Free verse
“By Whatever Means”
Halos are us
shining examples
of fallen poetry
gauntlets warm
hearts pumping blood
dog catchers of thieves
lives stolen
then retrieved
by whatever means
our quarries
captive, then fed
to Cerberus
Halos are us
shining examples
of fallen poetry
lives stolen
then retrieved
by whatever means
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
Categories:
gauntlets, dark, light, muse,
Form:
Narrative
To Babylon, we came...
To watch the rise of Tower
The Tower of Cain
A fortress of dark n eternal pain
Stretching to the vaults of heaven
to quite the RAGE of Man
to challenge the reign of divinity
into humanities Wasteland of Ages
a paradise of industry and history
a sable hand in a gilded land
once called EDEN...!
Men Came With Machines of Desire,
Roses of Fire…
gauntlets of Steel
a mechanical tyranny did the same…
That clinched Thorns of Eternity!
The bloody reigns of infinity
Tears fall on dreary sand For years...
A return to Eden
Where MEN claim...
A Utopia of IRON and Dusty Screams
A future of means and profit!
Yearning for opulent DREAMS…
Built engines on the backs of the damned
A nation of lost revenants
On horizons golden Zion’s seams
Blood of war mixing with lambs cream.
A Fortress of Praise in a Corrupt age
Babylons full of wrath, as towers blaze!
We find our hearts & minds a daze
And only in our God's holy Rage...
Can cleanse
&
Turn the Page!
Categories:
gauntlets, allegory, allusion, analogy, art,
Form:
Rhyme
Their long arm of his law standing about peering at her child
Destitutes public pretender having fully cooperated with the states
Aspiring district attorney this peoples hopeful in future high court justice ?
Divulging as much exculpatory evidence for their mark as they held over cocktails
Choking while accepting the fact that there was no way out of premeditation's maze judicial's
Billionaire boys clubs prehensible prairie dog gauntlets; ecocide's, florist in flotsams barbaric bonds....
Wall street sky rocket puppets; as his judge slams love's gavel down foaming at their mouths another, life.
Categories:
gauntlets, abuse, allusion, analogy, love,
Form:
So you think you can rhyme
go ahead, ring that chime
you have no ability to compose a verse
or the drive to excel in this course
So just go ahead, try your best
but I will undoubtedly be unimpressed
perhaps you will someday aspire
To be so good with the Lyre
Go ahead, the gauntlets thrown
try your best or be disowned
you'll never be better then me
even if you live 'til four thousand twenty-three
Categories:
gauntlets, slam,
Form:
Rhyme
across storm tossed skies
lightning strikes launched their gauntlets ~
thunder's voice bellowed
Categories:
gauntlets, storm,
Form:
Haiku
I AM NOT FRIGHTENED OF BEING ENLIGHTENED
My load has got to become lightened
My sodden Saturdays and Sundays should be brightened
And it’s not even an eventuality of being frightened
It’s a matter of my being enlightened
Every morning men arise to work another day
I, on the other hand have the dope man to pay
Lest I limp and crawl through to another night
While chasing dope to fight off Mrs.wants to fight
“Good morning sweetie, how did my honey sleep?
She wanted a description as to if it was lighthearted or deep
Even as I slumber like a sloth climbing a tree
In my sleep I know it’s time for me to flee
I know enlightenment might provide enough insight
But running gauntlets and out of luck just ain’t right
I ran out of explicit patience and she out of generic hope
And if you must know that’s why I keep chasing dope
© 2011.…. Phreepoetree~ free cee!~
Categories:
gauntlets, angstmorning,
Form:
Quintain (English)
I AM NOT FRIGHTENED OF BEING ENLIGHTENED
My load has got to become lightened
My sodden Saturdays and Sundays should be brightened
And it’s not even an eventuality of being frightened
It’s a matter of my being enlightened
Every morning men arise to work another day
I, on the other hand have the dope man to pay
Lest I limp and crawl through to another night
While chasing dope with needs and wants to fight
“Good morning sweetie, how did my honey sleep?
She wanted a description as to if it was lighthearted or deep
Even as I slumber like a sloth climbing a tree
In my sleep I knew it was time for me to flee
I know enlightenment might provide enough insight
But running gauntlets and out of luck just ain’t right
I ran out of explicit patience and she out of generic hope
And if you must know that’s why I keep chasing dope
© 2011.…. Phreepoetree~ free cee!~
Categories:
gauntlets, angst, morning,
Form:
Quatrain
((Sequel to 'Battle'))
Silence.
Men marched, out of step
Away from the rising sun that cast the sodden ground
In shades of blood.
Heavy, blistered feet
Clad in boots of worn and faded leather,
Carried them back to a desolate camp.
There were no words.
Dried streams of tears
Cut through the grime of sweat and blood
That covered every warrior’s face.
Sore and dirty hands beneath marred gauntlets
Still gripped the hilts of bloodied blades.
Dented metal armor sat atop
Hunched and weary shoulders.
Dull, bloodshot eyes were unfocused
Down on the trodden earth beneath.
Wounds were left forgotten on bruised skins,
Gaining only the seldom grimace and endured.
Scars would forever remind them
Of what had transpired,
The pain running deeper than flesh.
It had been a long, cold night
But these victors moved towards an even darker day.
Categories:
gauntlets, death, history, war
Form:
Free verse
*Image of Smallest Dog by Bio.
The Small Dog from Shansi
There was a scholar from Shansi City,
Miffed by folks he stayed in an priory,
Peaceful, but bothered by its many bugs,
So he bundled like a baby in hugs.
One night, two little knights with plumed helmets,
No more than two inches high with gauntlets
Hands, topped horses the size of grasshoppers,
Held falcons sized-like flies for the slaughters.
They raced crossed my floor at the greatest speed,
Another of them ontop his own steed,
Held a bow and arrow, instead, with him,
A small dog sized-like an ant filled with vim.
Behind him came a great army of men,
They held falcons with dogs just like him,
The bugs rose to flee but the falcons slain them,
Dogs sniffed out fleas ate them with no problem.
All cracks and crannies, the vermins were dead,
Scholar still pretending to sleep instead,
Then one rode clad in yellow and a crown,
He climbed the couch and he looked all around.
The men gathered neath him and paid homage,
They spoke a strange tongue, he had no knowledge,
The king climbed on a chariot and his
Guardsmen joined him with the greatest of ease.
Then off they went in a blink of an eye,
His men pursues with a victory cry,
Sounds like someone just scattered lots of beans,
The scholar rose, astonished to the scenes.
But then he looked at a brick by the wall,
A forgotten small dog not scared at all,
Scholar saw that the small dog was quite tame,
Leaps to bed, eats bugs, returned whence he came.
He feared the next day it be gone but no,
Stands on the brick leapt to the bed, it know
Its hungry, eats, then leaps back to the brick,
For days and nights, the small dog did the trick.
Until one day the scholar took a nap,
The small dog leaped by him and also slept,
The scholar had awaken, then he saw,
Flat dog like paper, as if one had draw.
2019 June 11
Categories:
gauntlets, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Rhyme
Brainwash
My pawns are carved from the ivories
ripped from flesh are the tusks
I need to have agency,
my moves I look forward
to in any direction
through hearts I may pierce
a game of thrones
when I win the board it's clear
wrists bloodied from the combatants
my treasured knights toss
their plated platinum gauntlets
not for the queen of queens
nor a worthless king
but for forcible indoctrination to induce
to give up basic political,
social, and religious beliefs
and attitudes and to accept
contrasting regimented ideas
Categories:
gauntlets, angst,
Form:
Verse
Sometimes I wonder if anyone
Truly believes in a God–
A Greater Being, typically benevolent
Who watches + waits + whispers.
Sometimes I wonder if everyone
Clings to this idea for the comfort–
The need, animalistic + entirely human,
Of forgiveness. I don't believe a widow
20, with two kids + a mortgage + bills +
Hungry mouths + a family of granite stones down by the church
Would believe in God, but she would
Pray to whatever, whomever
In the vague hope someone would listen +
Help her keep her children fed + content. Sometimes, I wonder if anybody
Ever did– surely knights beaten + bloody
Red coagulating over gauntlets + crusting over swords
Would only ever collapse to a knee, heedless of the filth
Corrupting the gleaming marble of the church floor.
I wonder if they communed with a God for forgiveness
Screams + pleas + blood building behind sweat-streaked foreheads–
And felt numb when they finished prayer + opened their eyes
To a new battlefield, awash in damning crimson from the stained glass.
And I suppose that's the point,
The Empty leeching all the hate + fear + anguish And laying at the feet of a benevolent being.
In any case, God is truly Good,
If only for giving the broken a sense of
Being whole.
Categories:
gauntlets, conflict, god, religion, writing,
Form:
Free verse