Best Hall Poems
Knotted in the Dance
Our eyes in a silent promise locked,
the way only stranger's can.
Perhaps foretelling of lover's, unfrocked,
langoured and breathless ran.
You, I think, blushed in surprise,
though I really don't remember.
For I, like a thief rushed window pried,
saw only endless splendor.
Your face laying against my chest explored,
and traced the furrow'd line.
Though indifferent to that wound ignored,
the scar I tried to hide.
You, now with arms around my neck entwined,
my hands, the master of your curved hips.
Knew how with charms, bound to defect, divined,
to lands where time stands unperturbed in eclipse.
Few hovered the hall that night as we,
caught in love's magical trance.
Two lover's enthralled in flight shall be,
forever knotted in the dance.
Had a room been open in that passageway
as a foreign night-ship, you’d have sailed by
Love would’ve been what? I couldn’t say
Life: an inveterate humid ply____________
Perhaps has passed with its pernicious waves
Acceptance rising like ocean’s eustacy
Sometimes, perfunctory was a skin-cut shave
So much more, was propitious ecstasy~~~~~
Parts of us shall never be contrite
As connoisseurs of our own fate, we played
Rage now mostly contrived in dying spite
though candid caustic thoughts can still prey…
Passion!
Our ultimate perfidy
Passion!
We should've kept astute custody.
6/29/2021
“My God” said St. Peter “how neat
A donkey head for trick or treat!
Just two feet? I want more!”
So god gave him four
off he ran hee-haw bleat!
There Gabriel stood with his horn
He said God I really am bored!
With a poof he’s reborn
With a tail and a horn
For tonight Gab’s gone unicorn!
“Well, Heavens!” Said Beelzebub
“Now ain’t this a fine rub-a-dub!
“Can I play?”
“YES YOU MAY!”
and poof he’s an apple in tub!
Yes, God is a Hall-o-ween gaffer
And the night rang out with HIS laughter
Ghosts genuflect as they fly
Vamp’s morph to good guys
And Hosts raised a toast to hereafters!
The Haunting at Darkwood Hall
As shadows deepened by the belfry wall
Only one of them saw the spectre where
Dusk crept, silent, through ancient Darkwood Hall.
And on that wall a ghostly spectral scrawl
And they lingered before the warning there
As shadows darkened by the belfry wall.
Only one read the curse and dared them all
And as footsteps sounded on a distant stair,
Dusk crept, silent, through ancient Darkwood Hall.
But one would not leave, as they would recall,
Who chose to accept the curse’s fatal dare
As shadows deepened by the belfry wall
Who repeated that wraith’s evil call
As, transfixed by that spectre’s deathly stare,
Dusk crept, silent, through ancient Darkwood Hall.
And the one who stood and dared them all
Forever held by that apparition there.
As shadows deepened by the belfry wall,
Dusk crept, silent, through ancient Darkwood Hall.
The wind is in the west
and the moon large and low,
the tapered horizon aglow
with the recesses of a withered day;
How symphonic a minstrel display,
tallied up like gathered notes to eve's call,
and the swooning lake ----
How the waves chase the eastern fringes of the bay,
they ask not why they go this way
(or that)
yet merely harken God's call
as they persist their way,
fain without promise.....
And cresting my observations,
as if in some pantomime-movie play ----
I mused:
Where is the Projector?
Hall of Silent Women
in valhala
in a far corner
of this martial paradise
is one small unobtrusive hall
above the heavy iron door
these words are faintly inscribed
“ the war department
regrets to inform you
that your son……
has been killed
in action, in defence of……”
women
silent
row upon row
straight backed, tight lipped, blank eyed
their amputated anger melting hearts
while words swift shot pierces soul
women
from life first stirrings
through vaulted cave to clapboard ranch
crouched sweating over birthing pit
to numbed white linen labour
in their pain and joy shudders steel shod feet
march through the womb.
women
ancient cauldrons
endless source of armoury
kept tongueless
then given tongue to teach
man made words
toy soldiers bleed rust.
in valhala
indeed in every martial paradise
there is one small unobtrusive hall
above the heavy door
words are faintly inscribed…
I wait to hear your footsteps in the hall
The night is low and I a wretched beast
The pain of empty arms will not relent
As I lay down my head to try and rest
The violet night winds begin to blow
They whisper of the songs you sang to me
It silences the torture and the fear
That you may not return to me tonight
I taste your lips in wine stained tears of love
The fire’s warmth, a hopeless substitute
I wait to hear your footsteps in the hall
I’ll wait, my love, until we are as one
Away in a dance hall
No dance for me yet
Then I saw you sat there
And broke out in sweat.
I walked up and asked you
Would you care to dance
Your face was a picture
You said not a chance.
My dream had departed
I felt such a fool
But my momma told me
Go fish in the pool.
Never make the first move
My papa did say
Stay sweet and delightful
Till love comes your way.
So I’ll wait patiently
With a smile and song
Whilst hoping and praying
My prince comes along.
Green is my favorite color
Chris, my favorite name
Put 'em together and what have you got
A Poet for Poesy's Hall of Fame
Within Hall Of Heroes His Soul Must Surely Be
Within Hall of Heroes his soul must surely be
for courage and steadfastness surged in his veins
this he truly lived for one and all to see
he fought bravely for truth and right, not worldly gains!
As teenage youth, I did such a great man befriend
and discovered what a true blessing had been given
I was away that day his life came to an end
now mourn he that for honor had always striven.
Years flown by as I look back at such a fine man
a granite rock upon which any friend could rely
I recall campfires fresh fish frying in a pan
And will see his smiling face until day I die!
Within Hall of Heroes his soul must surely be.
Man that taught me, takes faith and courage to be free!
Robert J. Lindley, 6-18-2020
Sonnet, Tribute- ( Treasures That Life Oft Gift Asking No Payment For )
Believing his tapestry would never
be fixed he tried to keep the small part
under him together. As he held the last
bit of tapestry together, he saw a light
which was blinding at first but then turned
to a soft glow in which he saw a man.
A man with a scruffy beard and a nice suit
standing in front of the window came over
and held down the unraveled ends of
his tapestry and so he was able to weave.
Even though his tapestry was in shambles
he kept on weaving with this man who
amazingly kept all the unraveled ends
of his tapestry down. He slowly but surely
was fixing the tapestry and soon he didn’t
need this mans help but asked the man to
watch over him while he kept weaving.
Later the man whispered something
to him and then said he’d always
be there. Then he walked away.
After the man left he always thought
of him and decided to follow what
the man had whispered in his ear. Because
of what the man had whispered to him
that was all he needed to live the rest of his life
in peace, in faith, in order.
I wonder how it's gonna feel
When Jesus calls my name
And I enter thru those gates of pearl
To Heaven's Hall of Fame
I'll see Peter who was the rock
That Jesus spoke about
And Moses the deliverer
That led God's Children out
Abraham, Isaac and Jacob
From where Israel all began
Till God fulfilled His promise
Of that beautiful promised land
The Hall of Fame is not complete
So I hope you'll be there too
And when He opens His Book of Life
His Blood will welcome you
I'm standing here in limbo as
I see him wander in.
That no townsman has warned him
is truly a mortal sin.
He slides up to the bar and
takes a curious look around.
He orders a shot of whiskey.
No one else has made a sound.
The barman just ignores him
as he has the others here,
and keeps on mopping up the bar
as I try to wipe a tear.
I still have strong emotions
with no way to express them.
I don't know about the others.
They all look like wooden chess men.
When that dying gunman hexed us
with that evil, malevolent curse,
he didn't doom us all to death's call
but with something even worse.
He said we'd stay almost forever,
exactly as we were right then,
until some day, some one would free us.
But he didn't tell us when.
I'm a dance hall girl who hasn't danced
for lo these many years.
I just stay as frightened as I was then
as I try to wipe my tears.
I see the stranger stiffen
as he searches for some cash.
He'll reach for it forever.
The spell has hit him in a flash.
So I know he's not the one
who can break the wicked spell.
We'll keep doing what we're doing,
but I guess its just as well.
For the only one who'll walk out
of this doomed saloon alive,
is the hombre who can break the spell
that keeps us in this dive.
When the spell has been broken
we will all be turned to dust,
and be blown to Earth's corners
with the wind's first heavy gust.
For town of Rotgut contest.
Sweet were the days though too few in number
When dread was lain over all tomorrows
By those whom upon the Rod of Asclepius swore
Sending him to seek solace
And pass by unseen
By the Final Fire in the Hall of the Mountain King
A blue star burned cold upon his brow
In the darkness to proclaim his coming
To this place he claimed
As the home of his heart
To play his part in this most sacred scene
By the Final Fire in the Hall of the Mountain King
Alone he arrived
To no greeting or welcome
But gladness filled him all-the-same
No company would be kept
For this final thing
By the Final Fire in the Hall of the Mountain King
There were no songs in the Hall
No one to sing
Of loves lost or left behind
Succored and scoured
By compulsive dream
By the Final Fire in the Hall of the Mountain King
No proof against arms was his armor
Though many times it had saved him
Against ravage and rage of weather
Their service no longer in need
He laid them before him in offering
To the Final Fire in the Hall of the Mountain King
Although weakened, quickly he kindled
The first glowing embers
Coached them and coaxed them
So fragile and nascent
Till they brought into being
The Final Fire in the Hall of the Mountain King
His presence in this hostile home
Alone would suffice
No grief-stricken children
Or wailing of women
No beeps or buzzes of cold machines
Only the Final Fire in the Hall of the Mountain King
He dreamt of the First Dawn of his absence
And was surprised it weighed nothing
Against the many that he was graced to see
Contentedly he caressed them
Comfortable in his memory
By the Final Fire in the Hall of the Mountain King.
His star dimmed slowly before the First Dawn
With dignity dwindled the last flickering flames
As cold grew the King
On his throne of Stone
Set free near the ashes
Of The Final Fire in the Hall of the Mountain King
Then Alpenglow burst the first rays of day
Round the only monument
To a life lived like lightning burst forth from the storm
So proud stood the peak
Glad alone to have seen
The Final Fire in the Hall of the Mountain King
Ding dong!
the warning bell
'only ten minutes left'
invigilator announces
so many problems are yet to be solved
passing remains a dream again
let me write a poem
before the next
ding dong.
****************************
Placement:5th ; (June 2012)
By:kash poet
Contest:Sound of Emotion
Sponsor:Nette Onclaud
Date:30th May 2012