Best Hammers Poems
POTD 23rd June 2019
Maria Williams
Presents
Dance to Love
A tribute to my Dad, the late - Wilfred Forbes
She danced with wild abandon
she danced without a care
With sun kissed skin, her arms flung wide
Wild flowers everywhere
I chanced upon this secret glade
while walking early morn
A sacred aura surrounded it
a jewel in the dawn
A type of place where angels dwell
A place of Hopes and Dreams
A magic place of lush green plants
And sparkling bubbling streams
I drew back lest she saw me,
I dared not break the spell
Wild petals swirled around her
and to the ground they fell
Like homage to a Goddess
that she must surely be
For Gods to but gaze on
not mortals such as me
She twirled around so fast
I could barely see her feet
And even though I stood afar
I knew she gave off heat
When her tempo slowed right down
the air became quite chill
The Elements were but her slaves
she ordered them at will
I could have watched forever
so mesmerized was I
What would I give to dance with you?
I murmured with a sigh
To dance with wild abandon
with this Angel from above
A hundred birds would sing out loud
to watch us Dance To Love
by Maria Williams
This tribute is an enactment of a vision as told to us by our late Dad, which he maintained he witnessed as a young man.
He was an extraordinary orchestral musician and teacher to
some world greats.
He was accomplished in no less than 18 instruments, his favorites being the lead violin and xylophone (played with 8 hammers).
Thank you for listening and watching this video.
Copyright © June 2019 Maria Williams
Video arrangement, production, direction
and compilation:
Ron Williams
Video editing, sound mixing, graphics:
Jayne Hartanto
If you like my video please share
and subscribe on You Tube
POTD 23rd June 2019
Away up north where it’s snowing they say
the elves are preparing for Christmas day.
Big elves little elves, busier than bees
All building toys, for under Christmas trees.
Some work with hammers others building bikes,
some riding through the room on brand new trikes.
Tiny elf voices ringing loud and clear,
everyone’s full of love and Christmas cheer.
Suddenly the chatter stops; all are still,
Santa walked in the room with book and quill.
Looking down at his book, Santa Clause stared,
then lifted his eyebrows as he declared,
Today I looked inside my books
and I found that we are ahead,
and thought because you worked so hard
we shall all go outside instead.
Misses Claus made lots of sweet treats
so let’s all eat and be hearty,
for today here at the North Pole
all elves shall have a snow party.
Quick as a wink the elves they disappeared,
Santa just smiled as he tugged at his beard.
Laughing he watched his little friends scatter
and soon the mountains echoed with laughter.
Snowballs were flying, snowmen taking form,
and hot chocolate kept little elves warm.
They were sledding, skiing, skating all day,
see, elves aren’t simply, all work and no play.
Written by Brenda Meier-Hans
11.29.2014
Contest: Children’s Christmas or Holiday Tale
1st place
The lake was still sleeping
a light mist rose above,
a weathered dock could be seen,
its aged wood; full of memories.
The air crisp, breeze light,
trees majestic; watching all.
Squirrels busy scampering,
as a flock of geese soared above.
Way over yonder
clear across the still lake,
shining brightly were yellow shutters,
on our cabin; our special place.
We had toiled the garden
planted yellow roses with great care,
we had painted the old wood shutters,
yellow paint; speckled our hair.
The roof we re-shingled,
one painstaking nail at a time,
we even counted the ouches;
when our hammers got out of line.
With nothing but smiles
on our weary, aching bodies,
we held hands, and went running,
into the still of the lake; giggling.
We swam out to the dock,
it was a race; he won,
my hand he took laughing;
as he quickly scooped me up.
Our toes dangled playfully
sending ripples in the lake,
as we gazed at our cabin;
yellow shutters; fresh with paint.
The trees swayed slightly
as if nodding with approval,
for our cabin by the lake,
was our private sacred jewel.
As we cuddled together
warmth filled our souls,
for our bright yellow shutters,
symbolized, our love's blossoming growth.
It was on this very dock,
air crisp, breeze light,
when he gave me a yellow rose;
and asked me to be his wife.
not like a Christian, but like a victim.
I prayed like a woman afraid,
afraid I was the sacrifice to his vice.
I would lie awake then. I lie awake now
as my heartbeat hammers
my breastbone like a blacksmith,
I remember… I remember
in a pale cringe, I sniffled. My blood polka-dotted
a white floor that smeared an inkblot of me.
A split lip, half-wit tamed by the maim of his fist.
His madman’s magma buried me,
a lingual lava flow that hardened as it cooled.
My sense of self turned to obsidian. I fractured.
Tears slashed like shards. I bled self-esteem.
He preyed on me
as I prayed to him like he was a god.
Please forgive me! It’s all my fault! On my knees
I was dead to myself.
He split my skin. Stripped me to my bones.
His vulture needs I remember.
My emotional remains he savored,
flavored with backhands and vodka bottle bottoms.
I seethed in sour juices of moonshine abuses.
I counted moons and contusions. I counted
each stitch needled through my skin.
My heart quilted with clichés;
I love you. I'm sorry. It'll never happen again.
I seized my breath so's not to moan or implode.
As I exhale I remember
I fantasized of blasting him to the belly of Hell
when I’d usher vengeance inside our back door.
Reaper’s reckoning when this battered forget-me-not
shattered his bones with buck-shot scatter. Damn!
I’d have paid the devil for a jail cell to be free.
A candlelight-night bruised by cruiser lights:
I remember I prayed like a victim to 911.
Oh God! Please God! Help me! He's gonna kill me!
I pressed bleeding heart flowers between diary pages,
diary pages without words cried to be heard.
Concussion dreams panic my pulse, dilate my eyes!
Oh, dreamless sleep, grant me deceased peace.
Until night hags of nightmares die
I will remember...
rusted with disuse
heavy heart hammers in pain ~
spiders build cobwebs
10th January 2023
James Gareth is what you call me Destroyer
No charge but released by a good lawyer
A technicality as my names Gareth James!
That’s Gareth first, now I’ve shot you down in flames!
Oh, and my H.C. Hammers, did you want them back?
They may need a wash as they’ve been half way up my crack.
I know they are your favourite undercover police clothes
The cap that came with it, you want that back I suppose?
That must be the cap you was on about?
You shot me! Zap, Zap zigidy Zap
Is that all you could come up with? Put on your thinking cap!
Back to the drawing board, you must go
Find some words, none of yours offend me so!
I called you hot, I remember, for that I know
I meant the humid heat coming from your big toe!
My words of yesterday may rot like you said
Mother nature and I, we share the same bed ;-)
I’m surprised you know what a Haiku is?
Maybe you should hang in your gloves, and try a kids quiz?
I think you need to chose a brand new name
Your reputation now, has been shot down in a flame
Destroyed my poetry, for you have not
Your name again, remind me, for I have forgot?
(I said it would take me a while PD!!! Good fun to write though!!)
For poets seeing this for the first time, it is fun autherised fun between the poets involved!
No new blogs needed!!!
STILL LIFE
Life – a gathering of things
Life – with warmth of movement
consciousness of being
sound color touch
aroma sight
for fun
I tap my collective unconscious
and
Nospace is filled with pebbles, pennies, nickels
dimes hammers chisels
hard stuffs
They all come clattering down on my kitchen
table
and
wanting to come together
take on a life of their own
Dave Austin
I'm writing this poem in the last days of 2018. The government of the United States is shut down in a fight over the building of a border wall. I am reminded of another border wall that was erected during my lifetime.
In 1961, East Germany built a wall
Of concrete, barbed wire, and steel
Ninety-six miles around East Berlin
At the cost of a bit less than four million dollars
And a bit more than 200 lives.
Intended to stem the flood of East Germans
Seeking freedom to prosper in the West.
A young and inexperienced President Kennedy
Didn't comprehend why East Germany
Needed a concrete wall
When it already had
An Iron Curtain.
In 1989 the Berlin wall was torn down in a frenzy
Of sledge hammers and bulldozers.
Only remnants of it now remain - mostly in museums.
East Germans celebrated and rebuilt their lives.
The reunited Germany flourished
And joined other nations in a united European future.
Why do we think that our wall will have a different legacy?
Confucius was confusing
speaking of tones in long
ago bones found in a stone
carving of sorts. A King
with legs too short playing
hot!kee indeed.
Hold my sky.the Scribe isn't falling....
It's Just, as described the Kitten
purrs calling eYes that are gleaming
in the Knight the light is beaming.
Speaking OSsilly.ations
about a pyramid and a
notion of motion reaching
for truth. Sitting on a
throne not really knowing
what to look for?
Hammers, Anvils that Stirrup Two....
They say CinderFella wears a glass shoe.
Care.the mirror doesn't smear the glue.
I can read a.head.board.too.
Lefty found a Foot.Note
Balancing act.on a Book
and took it. Seriously.
Strange thing art.ee.facts
They sing when ping.ing
Especially so when reading
The sWing. Reaper said
ree.pare. and we are dear.
reeding....
C.me near the Mall.Sue?
Hear us call.in your bones?
HOT is a spot on The One
and a flare in the air is a tOne.
reeds the same.spinning alone
aligns with a Lion a dog and
bone....
..."O0oWas this your toy?"
It's The Twi.light.O.z.O.ne
:)~ Now we're plaYing....
Know Vertigo Hear.
She was an estranged angel
On the backbone of a boar
She never put her hair up
Was a missile without a war
She broke a wild stallion
With the motion of her hips
She stifled a chameleon
With the color of her lips
She drowned a hundred hearts
With the ocean in her eyes
She never stayed for dinner
Had a trick bag full of lies
She's the chairman of your love
It's the least you stand to lose
Reinvested into futures
The kind you'd never care to chose
She shone just like a savior
To a crowd of men like me
In the dark and dreary alley
She convinced us we'd be free
She locked our souls together
With chain of solid gold
To wander through the streets
Starving, in love, and cold
On rainy nights she'd tell me
Of the millions she would make
We pounded solid granite
Until it'd crack, until it'd break
She delivered forty hammers
On a bull, without a sound
She had hundreds of 'em stowed
Somewhere buried in the ground
We bore our chains and sang it loud
We wrote a thousand songs
God save your children's virgin eyes
From seeing such a throng
She promised me the world inside
A thimble she'd unhide
Upon completion of a house
Built on the black hillside
She promised me so many things
I believe I did lose track
But if I could somehow free these boys
they'd sure be headed back
To living simple there in town
No vixen to demand
Just a table for to drink at
And to play a couple hands
But the hand that feeds the bread
Now riddled so with grubs
Would never be allowing that
A world with beds and tubs
Her power is a mighty thing
That crushes bone and brow
It brings one to believe it right
To stumble, kneel, and bow
We're just too worn and sore
To ever execute our coup
Best rest until the morning comes
There's plenty of work to do
I am Nimbus, gathering my black ruffled gown
preparing to race against the whistling wind.
My tears threaten to come tumbling down
and dark tendrils untamed; have come unpinned.
My bereavement wails as thunder hammers the skies.
Twin scepters of lightning flash in my mournful eyes.
I twirl in rhythmic dance upon swiftly swirling winds
Behold the grand majesty of a siren's release!
With a sad heart I say penance for a lifetime of sins.
In deep guttural voice I shall bid the storm to cease,
for I've reached the abysmal depth of my delusive soul.
I am enrapt by the tempest emotions in my control.
May 24, 2021
Personification Poem Contest
Sponsor: Caren Krutsinger
"You'll find more peace in your life if you refuse to listen to idle chatter."
~ by poet
When a squirrel does it, he sounds like the Madd Hatter
But when doves coo it, it's more like romantic chatter
Chickens cluck pecking for grain that makes them fatter
and Meerkats jabber as a warning signal to "SCATTER!"
Often defined as the noises made by monkeys and birds
but I've heard such gibberish spoken by humans in words
and clinical conversations of dialogue by high-tech nerds.
I wonder if baaing and neighing is chatter among herds.
Chatter can also be considered as gossip or tittle-tattle
or as irrelevant talking, which is idle or foolish prattle.
Perhaps used in bovine circles as mooing among cattle
and the goo goo sound of a baby when shaking a rattle.
I've known a talker or two who I'd label chatter bugs
who can become more annoying then crawling slugs
That's not the kind of people I'd want to give big hugs
for their chatter might persist until I'd need ear plugs.
There's muttering and piffling, cackling and yammers
who'd talk day and night til you put on your jammers.
With nonstop chit chat, they blabber in noisy clamours
until you can make it stop with whacks from hammers!
February 4, 2023
Writing Challenge - C Words Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
It's raining mud in Kansas,
200 miles an hour wind-hammers
broke Kentucky's heart.
Good people rush to help,
poets watch,
dogs bark
reporters report.
In the days of the Delta variants
children are left out in the cold
to eat lunch -
it's for their own good.
Meanwhile an iron gauntlet
grips the neck of the Republic
for its own good,
but it's all bad
and there is still no vaccine
for stupid.
cluck! cluck!! cluck!!
He hammers a nail into the hardwood,
wiping sweat from his brow as the scorching sun prides itself in the middle of the sky.
He examines a curve on the casket he is making,
he is dissatisfied, he grabs a chisel and begins to chisel away carefully.
As every splinter of wood falls to the ground he nods his head in satisfaction,
he stops to wipe more sweat from his brow
he mutters something to himself,
looks up to the sky angrily and curses the heavens for the heat.
But isn't it man who brought the sun closer?
well, that is what the govt official who came to our village told us,
"global warming" he called it.
I wonder why he labours so hard to make this ugly reminder of death look perfect,
the dead do not care about aesthetics,
I do not think they care so much what happens to their bodies here bury it, burn it, they get a new one either way.
Suspended high up the tower,
I hang out of sight.
My shiny golden brass core is hollow,
but I have a big mouth with a bell as a tongue.
Sometimes pigeons visit, resting on my arch,
but fly away leaving their droppings behind.
Don't pity me for my loneliness and silence,
as this serenity never lasts.
When the cloaked man arrives and pulls at my rope
he breaks the peace with deafening sounds.
Each tug hammers against my cup shaped sides,
belching vibrating echoes across the lands.
In an enchanting melody that brings joy to most,
but distress to some -
who only hear me as shrills and shrieks.
I love my ding dongs,
be it to tell the time,
or for funerals, weddings or as a call to prayer -
I'm content in ringing all day long!