Best Hard Fought Poems
Quote: A man can fail many times, but he isn’t a failure until he begins to blame somebody else.
John Burroughs
________________________________________
Inspired by life’s goals, winners are intuitively aware,
A loss is but a steppingstone, not a reason to despair;
Again and again, with certitude they play the game,
For triumph, they envision, is written in every name.
They never seek to blame others, for own mistakes,
Instead, they course-correct, averting heart-breaks,
Re-learning, deep in introspection, as they re-assess;
Ameliorating ways of failures, reaching for success.
When life is perturbed in adversities, they fear not,
Cognizant~ anything worthwhile must be hard-fought;
Summoning conquering ways, every failure taught,
To attain ultimate milestone, reveries of victory sought.
They accept, they advance, when things go wrong,
Strumming theme winsome, emanating from life’s song,
Echoing a pledge revered, treasured for quite long;
Avowing~ to them, the reigns of future shall belong.
Dreams of passion, dreams coveted, refuse to die,
For resolutely their objectives, driven believers vie;
Until triumphantly, bells-elated, of success chime,
Trumping sad sighs of failures, defeated over time.
Categories:
hard fought, life, loss, meaningful,
Form:
Rhyme
Song of a Warrior’s Bride
He counts on me for beauty:
His eyes blurred by bloody spurts of war,
Scarred by deadly blasts of bone
And tissue, his vision marred
By chunks of men that shook him down
Into the oozing mud of sorrow,
And unscrewed the sockets of his soul,
Blasting windows that once shone luminous,
Into dark pools of madness, mocking
The watch he had to keep that night.
He stopped his ears against
The final cries of men turned babes,
Moaning for mama or a medic,
Gasping for a hand upon their head,
As prayers and curses were sucked
From bodies by the piercing blows
Of guns, while rockets puked
Hellish flames that blotted
Out the stars, until darkness
Swelled into a symphony of pain,
And his heart choked with agonies
He could not stop to heal.
I have learned to fasten his gaze
With the soft gauze of understanding,
A fabric thrown across the room,
Rich with memories between us,
Like rose petals sweetening the air.
I can still delight his eyes and lure him
From the tangled jungle pits he digs
And show him patterns of new mercies,
That reveals the hidden weaver of our days,
The keeper of our steps upon this turf
Of life, turned gentler now.
I drape and wrap, twist and thread
My warless arms around him,
Still fingering the loom of prayer.
Murmuring vows over his embattled brow,
I draw him underneath our tent, pitched
In the heat of hard fought love.
Categories:
hard fought, horror, marriage, relationship, veterans
Form:
Blank verse
Ah Frontiera, here we are at your last, you've thrown a rod, your life lies black
on oily ground - all this snow and you're a mobile no longer; so I must walk.
It's cold, and now I think of it, that cold that exists in enormous reservoirs
at the poles of our world, seemingly to pass back and forth between,
as if through a secret conduit as the seasons are unfurled.
I will relax, I tell myself, "become one with the cold" as if it can't hurt me,
because sometimes you have to tell yourself things in order to survive.
My soliloquy proceeds as I gather thin paper birch branches and fashion them
into snowshoes with rawhide strings from my pack, a woefully empty pack
considering where I must go - the Brooks Range, even in October, is no joke -
and I can make it to a trapper's cabin, south south-west near Lake Chandalar.
Like the Inupiat Eskimos, I will sing my song, make up my tale, and live on.
Garlock, lord of this valley, seven feet of branch-breaking, tree-scarring,
log-rolling, stump-pulling black bear might, looks up, for the wind was behind me
and his nose is ever aware; my prayer - "You've eaten well, for your
winter sleep comes soon, you are not hungry enough for me" - I repeat it with
calm confidence; Praise God - noble king Garlock, this time, gives me a pass.
Two hundred miles, "Can I make it in three weeks, can I stay alive for four,"
I wonder as I walk, as I fish - pike, char; hard-fought with my hook, still the grayling
cooks on my fire - with a few remaining blueberries I find for spice; over mountain pass,
near the gorge's bottom, a rocky ledge, a rare stumbled caribou with broken legs,
my knife finishes it, oh how warm and rich the liver.
Over the blue cold of a nameless glacier - half the planet's glaciers are in Alaska,
that blue in summer melting is half of all water flowing into all the seas; I exist
with the cold, I'm only a part-day's travel from the trapper's cabin now.
Click-thunk! I hear it before my leg is alive with pain; I've stepped on a trap.
The evening's grim descent doubles and redoubles - I laugh or cry.
Will I bleed, will I freeze, or will my life just vanish into shock,
tucked into the ever-colder onset of night.
Trapper, when will you next check your traps?
December 21, 2016
For Shadow Hamilton's contest - 'Epic'
Categories:
hard fought, journey,
Form:
Epic
Akkina Rosario Downing Quotes
What great comments she had made;
To rest them that she said has laid;
Opinions are our own
Even if bare to the bone;
Wrote more poems sitting in shade.
Laugh a lot and in mouth don't
let my foot get caught to avoid
the rest of the onslaught hard fought.
Jim Horn
Categories:
hard fought, allegory, analogy,
Form:
Limerick
Clarence Stone stepped into the saloon,
Tired from long days on the trail.
He was riding on west to far Idaho,
Where land awaited, spacious and hale.
He was fleeing a feud that had consumed
The families of Burton and Stone.
Rather than die for an old hate,
He had set out with all that he owned.
Inside the bar one thing he did espy:
A woman beautiful and tanned,
With flowing black hair and emerald eyes,
Dressed in the jeans of a man.
Why such a woman was here, he didn’t know,
But she clearly seemed to belong.
She tossed back whiskey and joined the choir
Of the men’s raucous, cow-punching songs.
Stone went for a drink, and sat at the bar
Planning out the rest of his night,
When a man shouted ‘cheat,’ and all sprung up
The saloon gave itself over to fight!
Stone swung as they came, holding his own,
And the woman just off to his right,
Danced and dodged, kicked and swung,
Shrieking loudly her delight…
But her speed failed, and job it got through,
She stumbled, fell back to the floor.
So bold Clarence charged, bull-rushed the man,
Who whimpered and cried out,’No More!’
He helped the girl up, but she grabbed his neck,
And slammed him into a deep kiss.
She broke with a grin, and turned to the fray
Saying,’Come on! Let’s go finish this!’
Ten minutes later they both stumbled out
Sweaty with hard-fought victory.
Stone tried to move off, but she grabbed his wrist
Saying,’Oh No! You’re not done with me!’
They went to her hotel, hurried and hot
And up the grand stair-case did tear.
I won’t go into detail on what happened next,
For a gentleman doesn’t go there…
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
Categories:
hard fought, adventure, conflict, growth, lust,
Form:
Cowboy Poetry
Try to find good in each day
It helps me along my way
I look around
Trying to see where I'm bound
Hope one day I'll be found
Sometimes not so sure
Life's a blur
Anger in my heart
Won't let it tear me apart
I have to be better than that
Pulling a smile out of my hat
Concentrating not on what's bad
That makes me sad
Sometimes it is hard
Especially if my soul feels jarred
Lost in a world full of hate
Looking for a clean slate
When I'm down
I refuse to drown
Stuck in a thought
Hard fought
Your mind
I find
Is a rough place to get lost
Pain is usually the cost
Hard to separate
Love and hate
Fate
Fear leaves you stuck on the same page
Rage
Leads down an empty road
Doubles your load
Step away
Open the door to a new day
Try to smile
It will help after awhile
Make it your style.
Categories:
hard fought, appreciation, blessing, feelings,
Form:
Rhyme
Copyright © 2015
07.2.2015
Edited: 7/8 - 7:48pm
Symbols of Southern and Northern pride
on both sides who lived and died
An American story
a clash for glory
Whose glory in this land?
that native man?
he was already here
and faced a new fear
for him, who stands and cheer?
Another who didn't ask to come
whipped and chained by some
Flag of Dixie became a motivator for hate
years beyond those historic dates
once again the South wrought this debate
This time it was nine
who will it be next time?
Those scars, those scars - are not forgotten
left many of our Americans alone and frighten
Oppression and terrorism aren't new
it has always been started by a few-
from murder to rape
hardly any one escape
Now, America's Old Glory flies
standing guard over those cries
Ole confederacy ideas still wants to divide
by creating the Klan, they tried
to destroy peace while others were denied
"We The People," aren't a nation for a few
if our Armed Forces fight for me and you
So, lets not disgrace this divined nation
with a flag that embraces segregation
It's time to mend and get on beyond our past
or their Klan will continue to march in mass
The Star Spangled Banner, of Stars and Stripes
our enemies foreign and domestic love to fight-
this flag, a symbol of freedom against who might
"We The People" under this Banner, are one
from numerous wars hard fought, and won
Like that brave American Eagle that flies high
only one starred flag of Glory should wave him by
by: LPruitt
7/2/2015
8:50pm
Categories:
hard fought, change, dedication, destiny, july,
Form:
Couplet
It was war
Blood and gore
One by one they lined up and took their designated places
They stood across from one another with their war faces.
Battles are dark
I wear the mark
The General yelled for ammunition
Loaded and released without hesitation
His aim is sure
But less than pure
The wounded are removed from the field
Both sides are determined and neither yield
Young Teenage boys
Playing with toys
One side will win this hard fought battle
Bodies will fall and treated like cattle
Children maimed
No one blamed
The winners get one point for their effort
But both teams leave covered in dirt
Except for one youngster
Decides he's no soldier
Even in the worse of instincts lays hope
Not everyman smokes violence like dope
Our folly continues
With few breakthroughs
Playing high school football can be futile
So many young boys lie on a broken pile
That is the crime
Cut in their prime
One boy will be forever called wimp
As he bravely leaves with a life long limp
Just like war
Blood and gore
Categories:
hard fought, betrayal, conflict, culture, football,
Form:
Rhyme
Why do I do it, It’s hard to explain
This obsession that’s driving me slowly insane
The dark hours seem endless, the boredom intense
You would think at my age I’d have more common sense
The weather’s ‘Brass Monkey’ bitter and bleak
With many blank sessions for many a week
In pursuit of the Carp that might come my way
Making this session a red letter day
Watching and waiting or making a brew
Tying more rigs or warming a stew
As I sit in my Bivvy set up by the lake
Hoping a Carp will just make one mistake
Darkness gives way to a creeping daylight
I am now well alert for a feeding spell bite
Should I re-cast new baits to better positions
Or leave well alone, Ah! Decisions, decisions
My Bivvy’s an Igloo, glistening white
(My Rod, Pod and Buzzers got frozen last night)
The lake, from my bed chair, seems peaceful and quiet
When my left rod and buzzer erupt in a riot!
Out in a flash and strike into a fish
This feeling is magic and all I could wish
All the blanking and waiting and doubts that I get
Are gone as my Carp glides safe into my net
There are not many Carping and I like it that way
I can choose any ‘Swim’ that I want, any day
Yes, Carping in Winter is special, if slow
With each triumph hard fought for and that’s why I go
Categories:
hard fought, fishing,
Form:
Rhyme
Doctors make their routine rounds each day
Well-meaning zealots come in the room to pray
I sit here sharing tears with you
I wish there was more that I could do
To fight the cancer, they can do no more
Your body has lost this hard-fought war
There is no other course we can pursue
I wish there was more that I could do
You are far too young to leave this world
How can I carry on without my girl
I would do anything to help pull you through
I wish there was more that I could do
I watched you release your last breath
No miracles were left to ward off death
One last kiss before the final adieu
I wish there was more that I could do
Categories:
hard fought, death, sad,
Form:
Kyrielle
Travelers tempt the hand of fate, of time
moving from within one box to the other side.
Sometimes we’re scared, we cry sometime
yet, to take that step, that risk “Ah, let the heart abide.”
Moving from within one box to the other side
we get a new perspective, a learning most sublime.
Yet, to take that step, that risk “Ah, let the heart abide,”
different shapes, all askew, beneath a mask of pantomime.
We get a new perspective, a learning most sublime,
a hard fought for understanding, from which we can’t backslide.
Different shapes, all askew, beneath a mask of pantomime,
all are born, and grow and die, as to eternity we glide.
A hard fought for understanding, from which we can’t backslide,
a call for peace and unity within this woman’s lifetime.
All are born, and grow and die, as to eternity we glide,
as on we wander, one and all, hand in hand through time.
A call for peace and unity within this woman’s lifetime
sometimes we’re scared, we cry sometime,
as on we wander, one and all, hand in hand through time
travelers tempt the hand of fate, in searching different climes…
Topic:Backsliding
Categories:
hard fought, adventure, allegory, cry, devotion,
Form:
Pantoum
Where are they now the fighters?
Fighting for their freedom as well as ours
Survivors of those turbulent war years
The silent heroes
Saving us
Sparing us the trauma they faced
Hiding from us their fears
And the actions forced upon them
The nightmare’s they faced
Were theirs alone
They sheltered us with their silence
And now we curiously pick at their wounds
Dig into the memories they tried to forget
So that their sorrow becomes our sorrow
Their mistakes not forgiven and forgotten
But displayed before a changed world
Silver spoons stolen, a tragic union
Children taken … so long ago
Even their stories are silenced by death
If only we could respect their hard fought lesson
That Silence is golden
Categories:
hard fought, appreciation, grandfather, truth, war,
Form:
Free verse
the last
of seven
hard-fought contests
high school band celebrates
a first
the last
of four tries
to birth a son
finds them with five girls AND
a first
Categories:
hard fought, 11th grade, children, giving,
Form:
Cinqku
Just an ol' Tom Cat
dirty orange in color,
Rummaging like a rat
through filth and squalor
Painfully moving with an obvious limp
and a single eye from which to glimpse.
Orange cat advanced with a hesitant skimp;
so sorrowful a cat I haven't seen since.
Confused and frightened
I could sense his pain.
Sorrowful and disheartened
He began to fain.
Without value or worth,
abandoned and alone,
he searched from birth
trying to find a home.
Such a dreadful place
to see suffering like that,
in the trash and waste
where I found orange cat.
He struggled with broken limb
and to not ease his strain
would have been a sin
for anyone who could help him.
Giving him worth and value
I cuddled him in my lap,
providing affection anew,
he loved me for that.
After a hard fought struggle
he died that night.
In the warmth of a cuddle
he ended his plight.
Categories:
hard fought, animalscat,
Form:
Enclosed Rhyme
The legion march quickly north,
armed with glaudius , pila, and, scutum.
Prefect Claudius Flavius was in command of the First Cohort.
Vanguard in the lead, flankers to the sides, rear guard looking behind.
They marched steady and strong under a blazing hot sun.
Each man weighed down with 60 pounds of armor, weapons, shield and rations.
They did not falter,
and they did not stop for water.
Such is the discipline of the legions of Rome.
At the end of the day they made their camp.
That night the equites legionis scouts found the enemy.
and the battle was planned.
The legion was up before dawn and prepared for battle.
The First Cohort, four hundred eighty men in all, marched to the battle site ahead of the others, and formed four maniples.
When the rest of the legion was formed,
Flavius commanded the First to move forward toward the screaming enemy.
They did not falter,
and they marched in good order.
Such is the discipline of the legions of Rome.
At the command of, " Iacere pila". they hurled their spears at the enemy shields.
At the command of, " Contendire vesta sponte" they drew their glaudii and engaged,
attacking the left flank of the enemy formation.
Armor and spears, swords and shields met in a horrible clash.
The centurii and optio shouted orders above the blare of the bugles.
Pilae were hurled.
Scuta banged against scuta.
soliders pushed, shoved, yelled and cursed.
Glaudii thrust forward in unrelenting, grim determination.
They did not falter,
and they gave no quarter.
Such is the discipline of the legions of Rome.
In the end the enemy line unraveled, and those who were left ran for their lives.
The equites chased them down.
The battle was hard fought.
The list of the slain was long,
and the lesson the legion sent was clear.
Those of the enemy that got way brought this message home.
The Roman legions are strong and disciplined.
They do not falter,
and they give no quarter.
Do not test the power of Rome.
Categories:
hard fought, history, military, war,
Form:
Prose Poetry