Best Hart Poems
Ek was gevra om ietsie oor Pa te sê
Maar waar begin ek nou
Wanneer daar eintlik net een ding is wat ek nou wil doen
Om steeds my arms om Pa te vou
Maar nou is Pa weg
Na ‘n plek waar Pa tog graag wou wees
Bo by Liewe Jesus
Maar bly steeds hier by ons in gees
‘n Man met ‘n hart van goud
Wie slegs goeie dinge oor mense kon sê
‘n Bonatuurlike liefde vir ons
En wie slegs die beste vir sy kinders wou hê
Streng het ons grootgeword
Maar dit was oor Pa lief was vir ons
En alles wat ek as Pa se dogter wou hê
Was dat ek Pa se hart van trotsheid laat bons
Nou is ons Pa en Ma se maatjie weg
Ons belowe om mekaar te ondersteun
En aan die herinneringe te hou van ‘n besonderse man
Wat God slegs vir ons kon leen
‘n Man met ‘n Hart van goud
Dit is hoe ek Pa altyd sal onthou
En nou is dit tyd om totsiens te sê
Al wens ek, ek kon steeds my arms om Pa vou
*Dear PoetrySoup Members. I apologise to those of you who does not understand Afrikaans, but this poem is dedicated to a dear friend of mine who is Afrikaans. She told me a little bit about her father who recently passed on and I decided to put it together in a poem for her. I hope you guys do not mind. TS poetry was an absolute gem and translated what I wrote in my poem in his comment below. Thank you TS Poetry*
When night calls moaning winds to come
‘midst chilling currents from the Sound
Hart Island’s hidden souls rest from
life’s heartaches known above the ground.
Come hear the raven’s haunting cries
as slanting shadows overtake
to grip forgotten graves that lie
in scattered fields’ neglected state.
An ancient tarnished bell is rung
by nothing save the wailing winds
its clanging haunts, it’s notes are flung
like pleading cries to cover sins.
Forbidden shores where tombstones lie
a hallowed ground ‘neath stormy skies.
10/310/2023
Under mountains of coal and ash
two, cold, porcelain figurines withstand
the years, as they grind away slowly
their lines and composition turning
to dust.
I was the culprit, tearing down the
house you built, now a stranger to the
pillars of your sunlight laughter
Embarrassed I bow with only a huge
gap I created...lifeless with no
interiors… only regret.
I knew you when there was only a small
one bedroom apartment…no monuments
to your name…when you were nervous
and alone. I loved you with my blinded
heart, at risk with too many intimate scars…
and now with memories and
no words ever spoken.
© Julia Heckman 2011
"The Parnassian Hand" - A Poem by David Hart
Five fingers hover over black print
Apposed on a white sheet.
Tan flesh, short cropped nails and
Overlapping cuticles--an old hand--
A buxom hand--a hand delighted to treat.
Words, numerously luxuriate on holey
Crimpled sheets.
Words astonishing and boon
Words effulgent and true
To arrange? No. Avast!
Now pondering in this hushed room
Gazing athwart still and attent.
Ahoy to the words!
An august phrase for rent.
Words awhirl or bedizended
Words behooved and apt
Words echt and moiling
Aye, perhaps diamonds of fact.
Five fingers hover over print in black
Print regaled and caressed by an
Amorous attack
ONLY YESTERDAY
Looking ahead through
A dirty pane of glass,
I remember yesterday,
The old man on the bench,
A drenched French
Loaf of bread, forgotten
Beside an empty
Bottle of wine,
Half asleep in the cold
His hair whipping
Beating his face
The rain harsh,
Dripping from his
Bent head,
One shoe was gone
His naked foot
Swollen and red,
He had no bed,
No one to care,
On Planet Earth's realm
About to enter the next,
I thought for him
This was best.
I felt my heart quicken
As his stopped,
And he fell
To the ground
He was found,
For no soul dead
Or alive around,
That was yesterday.
Today, I sit on
The same seat
On the same bus
Taking the
Same journey
To my little shop
On the corner,
Where I greet the same
People every day,
I look up gratefully
And say,
Thank you God
For my life.
There is a thombstone in Ohio, with the inscription:
’’Harold Hart Crane: Lost at sea.“
His words, soaked with tears blossom
Beneath the waves, in lonely, starving hearts
While he sleeps the sleep of the sea
Without his dark passion,
Free at last
Calm at last
She missed out on music lessons as a child.
Her parents taught her piano, which was so mild.
For years, she worked poorly and was lackluster.
And quit piano as a preteen as she couldn't muster.
She preferred Brian May over Freddie Mercury.
Elton John fan, she felt the piano music was a nursery.
She should have taught the guitar, yet she didn't.
She believes pianos lead to libido and dint.
Smokey voice, tactile lyrics, and superb piano skills.
Hart's 13 albums since 1993 will bestow you thrills.
Her violin fingers and pretty tone sing in harmony.
Her hands master the piano, guitar, and drums perfectly.
Beth Hart battled, as did catalpa trees and hackberry.
However, as a wild Sequoia, it maintained its worry.
Dismal feelings of pain, rage, shame, and exasperation.
What if these factors led to her artistic inception?
Several War in My Mind tunes left fans breathless.
Stones, blocks, rough slopes, and hills are breakless.
L.A. Song shows how to shun inner pain via denial.
Beth's Crown ranks among the finest lyrics trial.
Written: May 08, 2023
Beth Hart Inspiration Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Robert James Liguori
Her pink okra fingers play violoncello,
Rises from her harmonic throat songs so mellow;
Is she a swallow? A skylark? A Nightingale?
Or the Greek goddess Calliope's sweet-sounding tale...?
An amalgamation of Bach and Beethoven,
Splays open, in and through her, like a vast ocean;
Piano, cello, bass guitar, and percussion,
Her heart and hands try all with perfect precision...!
Venomous feelings of infantile memories,
Childhood and adulthood draperies of worries;
Mushroom-like or monsoon creatures-like resentments,
Repetitions of termite-eating sentiments...
Like palms or banyans or olives Beth Hart withstood,
Worries and cares, though, continued as wild Redwood;
Grim hurt, anger, embarrassment, and frustration,
Could all these, yet, crash her creative causation...?
Rocks and boulders and hard hills, and mountains she breaks,
Earthquakes and volcanoes of destructions she shakes;
"Screamin' for My Supper", "LA Song (Out of This Town)",
Midst best melodic arts, Beth has her laurel crown...!!!
08 May 2023
Beth Hart Inspiration Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Robert James Liguori
Rhymes Checked At: Rhymes Zone
Syllables Checked At: How Many Syllables
My Head has rivers of thoughts through out the day and most of them will flow on
down my river of thoughts with no impact what so ever sometimes one gets stuck in
a yeti and it starts to bite my mine yet the bite has no factual evident to surgest its
true.
Then my Hart will grab that bite and give it a meaning such as Angry, hurt or
loneliness to name a few, and sometimes my hurt influences my head to fine the
thought to bite
Sometimes in a good way sometimes in a bad way but mostly in a bad way
Now the river flows to my hands and the emotions carry’s the thought which impact
the intendeds of the bite
Now my hands are lost to my action and allow the river to rage in fingers and
ingrains into my behaviour
Now when my head has a bite can you please produce all the relevant truth to what
you are saying because if you don’t you stay a stream was I control you.
I'll hold your heart, as if it were glass,
Wipe away your tears, before they crash.
I'll hold you close, be your knight.
Make you forget your bad dreams, and chase away the frights.
Smile for me, love, hold your head high,
Keep thoughts of dying out of your mind.
You're safe in my arms, I can promise you that,
You won't be harmed, I'll be sure of that.
Poetry seems to be my way,
Of getting across what normal words can't say.
I'm just too shy, just not brave,
To be able to say to you what I'm feeling today.
My heart's locked up in chains, and you have the key,
To set my deepest feelings free.
I'm forever yours, if you'll be forever mine.
Our souls, our hearts, can become intertwined.
Welcome Welcome to my hart
As you know I'm just innocent as a child
Give you pen in my heart
All ways loyal to you
Anyway as you I miss you
Anyway tells you all the ways
Cannot live without you
Are light how to live my life without light?
So that no matter
The pain in my heart
Repeats n again their welcome in my heart.
-Sanjay Amaan
XVI
A vile and thirsty hart sought waters cool
Who thought it found a perfect, blessed spot
Not knowing that it was a private pool
And may not drink to quench what it cannot
We wonder what this tale is all about
Offending brother, hopelessly deprived
Of cleansing water he can’t live without
Forgiveness grant so he can be revived
How dare I say God speaks the truth through me?
And glorified in all I do or say
When my mean heart is void of charity
Filled with contempt of those who go astray
For I do need what I must give away
Forgiveness is a gift I could not pay
Pearl Hart was Canadian Born,
And she put her poor parents to test.
She met and fell for a ne'er-do-well gambler,
Who eventually took her out west.
Inspired and enamored by the strong women there,
And the heroes and Wild West legends,
She mustered the courage to leave her man,
Took a train and Colorado befriended.
She gave birth to a son who she gave to her mother,
And left Arizona bound,
Where she became un-enamored with the wild West,
Where hard times was all that she found.
Her husband finally caught up with her,
And begged her to come back to him.
She returned to him, learned to drink and to smoke,
He beat her and left her again.
Pregnant again she gave birth to a girl,
Left this one with her mom too;
But a woman alone found it a hard go,
And she found her a man named Joe Boot.
Joe taught her to rob and to steal for her gain,
They started with people, then stages and trains.
She enjoyed her part as a lady bandit,
And as her legend grew she found fame.
It remains unknown what became of Pearl.
Some say she died here or there.
Some say she married an Arizona rancher,
And lived a quiet life out there.
I’m sitting with cards of all colors in my hand and I’ve got the table dancing to my fingers.
Why do I feel so alone if I’m winning?
Your face tells a sad story and I know you are happy with the cards you have, you just always seem to need mine as well.
If I’m the one that started this game,
If I’m the one winning,
Why does it feel like I’m selling my soul?
Is your bluff that good?
It’s not the chips that I want, it’s the girl across the table with my ace of hart.
So I’ll keep on betting till I’m empty,
up to the point where God smiles on me,
placing me on a seat next to you.
I’ll take all your chips and all your cards,
using them to build us a house of green paper,
fit for a king and queen.
All the jack that’s been in your life,
I’ll make it disappear with the flip of my joker.
In so many ways I want you to win,
In so many ways I want you to lift your chin.
Take off your poker face and blow me a kiss
As whirlwinds in the musicscape that blow so wild,
The duo sang, played guitar, and albums compiled;
Both rocked like vigorous rocks in a rough earthquake,
Their unbreakable records they only did break...!
Played and sang at their very tender childhood age,
Like tornados they shook many a music stage;
Joseph Bonamassa, at only twelve, did plan,
Smokin' Joe Bonamassa - his band he began...!
As though birds of a feather flocking together,
J.L Bonamassa and Beth Hart flew higher;
Like poppies blossomed forth "Don't Explain", and "Seesaw",
The works of the duo made one and all feel awe...!
His works, "Blue Deluxe", "Driving Towards The Day Light",
"Rhymes", and "Fire On The Floor" are like sunlight, bright;
Adorn the altars of Harmonious music,
Cure the physically and psychically sick...!!!
14 May 2023
Joe Bonamassa and Beth Hart Inspiration Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Robert James Liguori