Best Headway Poems
River’s Arising
By Michelle Waters
River’s arising. Danger’s on hand.
Gather up your kinfolk and get to high land.
The campgrounds are empty, RVs are all gone
Tourists packed up their bags and headed back home.
The storm clouds retreated for less than a day.
For on the horizon, they’re making headway.
Torrents of water and mud surge down from the ridges,
Wash out the gullys, and ravage the ditches.
The creeks are all swollen; their banks have been breached.
Winds tear through the trees, wild and unleashed.
Muck and debris cover roads and driveways.
Surplus of water sweeps cars off highways.
Weatherman's warnings- often unheeded
In times like these, good sense is needed.
Destruction continues, flood water advances.
The wise take refuge, the foolish take chances.
Those who live in the valleys will stay to repent.
Once the floodgates cut loose, there’ll be no defense.
River’s arising. Danger’s on hand.
Gather up your kinfolk and get to high land.
Categories:
headway, environment, heartbreak, home, leaving,
Form:
Rhyme
I starts me life as pirate,
A grommet before age twelve,
Not an ordinary bandit,
High sea adventures me delve.
With a Letter of Marque in me han’
And the Commodore for me pa!
I spends dogwatch near the helmsman,
Nerey missin’ me bonny ma.
Old salts tell their gory tales,
Aye, dogs hanging from the gallows.
Punishments for a man who fails
Floggings or keelhaul; blood bath follows.
Scrimshaw hangin’ ‘round me neck.
A privateer by trade,
Flaunting booty on the deck
We’s the scallywags brigade.
Pirateering is me heartthrob.
I dreams schemes in the crows nest.
‘bout takin’ swag from an unfortunate swab.
I sits watchin’ pa from the crest.
Long nines aimed and ready,
Jolly Roger on the mainmast,
Headway fast and steady,
The enemy’s fate forecast.
One for all and all for one!
Drinkin’ grog an’ eatin’ grub.
Werkin’ on the “Morning Sun”
Me father at the hub.
Davy Jone’s locker, me final plight!
Death drifting in me beloved sea –
Straightway from the dark of night
The pirate’s life for me!
© July 15, 2010
Dane Smith-Johnsen
Categories:
headway, adventure, fantasy, on work
Form:
Quatrain
Oh what a tangled web we weave,
ever haunting in devious wombs...
tattered voyagers embarking to the confine,
and by nightfall, swarthy leather pants
whip and crack like the white flag
blowing and tearing in a cold snap.
On ebony sails the ravens are perched,
pecking at threads that dangle
from dusky cloths which follow
a foreboding path among the charcoal seas,
with only a pale, crescent moon to light the way.
Heavy weighted winds we will travel;
with no need cast anchor to rest, for
even under the darkest of starless skies
we will navigate through any storm.
Whirlwinds of ships
encircle endlessly in a carousel of waves,
each riding their horses in a cynical unison,
Captain yell fire, seize fire, aim... and fire again.
On the ashen deck the posts are split,
the ocean floor reverberating while
fingers trace softly around her lips,
saturated in sweat and tears... hope, and fear.
In our time we've marked our authority,
through scorching suns and frigid blizzards...
on ebony sails we headway forever
to our home beyond the sea...
Categories:
headway, adventure, nature, sea, visionary,
Form:
Free verse
'Twas the night before Christmas, when...
Oh no, said Rudolph! Stuck again!
The sky is dense and techno-waved,
our path seems wild and misbehaved!
Poor Rudolph stopped in sky midair
and yelled to Santa, we can't fly!
Earth satellites have made a snare
of wireless currents in the sky.
You see, today's advanced machines
are human gadgets called 'smart' phones;
they shop the Web from tiny screens;
airwaves mess up our flying zones.
Of course, they seek last-minute deals
on Christmas Eve, worse time of all,
when we are here 'head over heels'
to bring kids' presents, big and small.
Then Santa answered, use plan 'B'
come down one level in the sky.
Take care and watch! Don't hit a tree
or steeple top as we zoom by!
So Rudolph did as Santa said,
though still, they'd be a little late;
made headway now with deer and sled
where techno-waves had low flow rate.
Sandra M. Haight
~4th Place~
Contest: The Night Before
Sponsor: Joseph May
Judged: 12/08/2018
~1st Place~
Contest: Christmas Rhymes
Sponsor: Kim Rodrigues
Judged: 12/18/2017
Categories:
headway, christmas, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme
Word-painting, they say; or painting with words,
In charm, it's charmer than most charming birds;
Feeling, for many, is its first foundation,
Expression, in words, brings affirmation;
Sentiment and muse must fondly marry,
Verses should flow-grand rhymes and rhythms carry...!
Does my work, yet, picture of life portray?
Do all colors intertwine, like sun-ray?
Do joys evade the scene when pains flourish?
Does bliss its jubilant psyche nourish?
Do feelings of fear, anger and surprise,
Find: it's impossible to compromise...?
What's the inner-flow of my florid words?
Are they merely beautiful flocks of birds?
Flimsy butterflies that flutter around?
Cats, rats, geese, cattle and horrible hound?
Do beasts of the woods and reptiles well-blend?
With their hitting and killing stories end...?
Do they paint pictures of human struggle?
Or stop just with some selected snuggle...!
The deaf, dumb, blind and the lame, who, in calm,
Add, to this futile life, tremendous charm...?
Young, and old who're, forever, deserted,
In my poems, with honor, inserted...?
Composing poetry, is not mere fun,
A divine mission, with this, is inter-spun;
Painting of actual facts should pave way,
Toward opening of a small headway;
Life without struggles is unfeasible,
Dissensions, yet, could be made peaceable...!
26 April 2022
POEM ON POETRY MUSE Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Beata Agustin
Categories:
headway, poetry,
Form:
Rhyme
It’s the fourth - fireworks; the fizzle of stars.
The colorful display of power of the people —
waving of the red, white and blue; freedom
rings, slowly, building to a crescendo
to include all the melting pot called the USA.
Resilience and fortitude; weathered the wilderness
where an unlearned cabin-patch man snatches
every book his hands can capture, then captures
our hearts, tall, even taller with his top hat —
a silk black band added after his beloved son
Willie dies. Lincoln, a man who united us
in the favor of freedom, freedom that frees the pandemic
of slavery, the dark history of whips and chains. And
furthermore we ask, “Why oh why…”
when headway is made do men continue to suffer
and hang from trees, crosses burned.
And all good men suffer with them, the agony of evil —
it was to be stamped out, and the white hoods snatched
off crazytown. If one truly believes in God, then he loves,
not hates, his fellowman and each wants the best for him —
of education, family, boundless freedom and desires
to hold hands — building a chain, not of rust, but of
trust. And we sing out, “God bless America.”
I visited the WWII museum in New Orleans. A flat map
showed the takeover of the world by forces of evil. Almost
the entire world of East and West lit up — it took my breath
away. What power quenched the burning furnaces, the
torture of peoples? When America stood up, under
the banner of “In God We Trust,” the hellfires, not
easily squelched, the brave, the spirit of the wilderness
gave all, they fought to set the captives free. Men, in general,
are not perfect but the fight for freedom is a worthy cause
and the sanity of a sound mind, a candlelight vigil of veracity
is one to be stoked. Do we continue
to fight each other, dividing, drawing lines, or pull
each other into big sloppy hugs and love’s kisses.
God bless this union called America; God’s mercy
invites us to sing with one voice; freedom’s choice.
It’s the fourth - fireworks; the fizzle of stars.
The colorful display of power of the people —
waving of the red, white and blue; freedom
rings, slowly, building to a crescendo
to include all the melting pot called the USA.
7/4/2020
Categories:
headway, america, freedom, independence day,
Form:
Narrative
I hear your tiny fingers shuffle
against the textured walls, trying
to feel for a crack to slide into
and hide from the fact that you are
still too small to make big changes.
It is the same
for many, for most, that can not move
mountains or make headway
and simply decide to sit quietly in
anger and wait for anything
to cut enough to create an outburst.
I feel your eyes stare into the room
as you smell the candles cast the scent
of vanilla and sulfur into the doorway.
Welling from within, emotions rise
and fall with ears strained and weary bones
ready to stop and sneak back to sleep.
It is different for you
to be without a voice, to be outside
of decision and determination in these matters
of heart and home. This is hard
to be small and quiet in a loud
and large part of your world.
Categories:
headway, childhood, confusion, sympathy,
Form:
Blank verse
Criminal reform - we think of those who deserve a second chance or are caught in a system where they can never make headway, or those who were imprisoned unfairly. But in today’s economy, we let loose, like a violent dam set on destruction, the worst of the worst. It should not need to reach your loved one before you open your eyes to the truth. Who is putting these people in high places to destroy our freedoms?
VIOLENCE
Vehemently the collaboration to do good as
I see fit. To do unto
Others as no other has thought to do. Unthinkable
Love of letting criminals go. Not those
Eager to repent, not the
Nonviolent, but repeat offenders - murderers, rapists… It’s
Criminal to put blinders on, to murder the innocent at
Every turn and to release the Joker and Riddler into Gotham.
9/8/2022
Categories:
headway, america, anger, corruption, violence,
Form:
Acrostic
To have hope in your heart is to believe,
To have faith within yourself and disbelieve,
You wont more from your life than is given,
To strive for success to be driven,
Don't be hopeless to give up on the fight,
To extinguish that blazing bright light,
It's so easy to just hide away and give up,
To be stagnant in life or cover it up,
It's not always the easiest route or way,
Having hope in your heart makes headway,
Dreaming of hope is simply not enough,
You have to put in the work and be tough,
Pushing forward will help you achieve,
There will be barriers, but you must believe,
Have faith in your own capabilities,
And ignore the negativities, impossibilities,
Believe in the availabilities and probabilities,
Never give up on hope, to fulfil your dreams,
No matter what it takes do it by any means.
Keep hope within your heart so dreams become real,
And life may just seem a bit more ideal.
Categories:
headway, emotions, feelings, happiness, inspiration,
Form:
Rhyme
As I walk the barren desert
With a small flower in my hand
Leaving my footprints in the sand
Swiping them, to erase the hurt
I think of your smile miles away
Soft kisses shared in the cool shade
All of our headway we have made
There is so much I have to say
But, under desert skies so blue
With heart shaped clouds floating by
One teardrop falls from my eye
Because, these arms long to hold you
9/25/19
Placed 4th in the Pick a title, Vol. 9. Enclosed Rhyme.
Title #2 These Arms Long to Hold You
Categories:
headway, desire, longing,
Form:
Enclosed Rhyme
Walking on eggshells
Tight lipped
Uncertain of every word spoken
Least the tempest
Will be released
Roaring
Waves splashing
Wind storm blowing
Boat rocking
Turquoise water falling
Aimed for shore
Making no headway
Two feet forward
Three feet back
Capsizing imminent
Apocalyptical
Which way will it end
Will there be a future
If I wrangle in emotions
And keep a chain on tongue
Nothing can harm
Wherein there lies
The Holy Spirit
Who my strength
Provides
Always remember
Like in the song of old
Peace, be still
Peace, be still
Peace, peace be still!
finis'
Categories:
headway, abuse,
Form:
Free verse
Can you get my point and drift?
It’s in my free verse and also rhyme.
They say ‘Life’s a beach’
I say, “All the time”
and there’s a beach for everyone, and all!
It accepts incoming the tidal withal.
From flotsam floating of every noxious kind,
Where you will beside the innocent the toxic find,
From grass,to plastic, garbage bags and all,
also the rancid sewers dark outfall,
And I see the littered beach
All covered & disfigured, spit headland and shoaly reach,
Then raised up with rampart fey
the most humongous tidal wave
And it is definitely and gravely shoreward bound,
Oh dear Lord, have mercy, I say,
For all of those who live nearby, and in the way
in Their lowly shed or fancy high-rise buys,
Already they suffer to live near this
Please avert your catalyst
oh!‘No’ says God, its course will run
its bounds and goals are set
As I set everyone,
Too much for me! my eyes I close
i just won’t look at scenes (that I suppose)
i await the crash! its deafening loud,
and I imagine the chaotic screaming crowd,
I wait ….. I wait….now look I must!
Before cold melts ice and rust becomes dust.
And What! before mine eyes a sight, the beach,
All pure grains of white, (are seen)
against verdant mounds of beryl green
The background sheds and townscape now stand serene;
The wave was a vision of God’s cleansing hour
Wrapt in an instant of unbridled power.
For the antiprigoligarchist was sent,
And the veil of worldly waste was rent.
There also is a literate beach
Where the antiprigoligarchist will also reach.
As antidote for pedantic bias, attention & thought
And scalar vision with true value nought
so with devoid headway misused opportunity
and selfish sway away! and
before the drift becomes a roar, better to
Clear such wasted ways from the literary shore.
Categories:
headway, allegorybeach,
Form:
Free verse
Deep ocean of azure blue
Overhead seagulls circling flew
In constant motion, heaving sides
The old merchant ship upon it rides
Rust scorched it's barnacled coat
Salt encrusted railings forever afloat
On the horizon's sinking sun's amber glow
Beckons enticingly along the flow
New moon appearing from out of the west
Silvery waves splintering against foamy crest
Figures emerging from the hold below
Peering skywards at the star studded show
Then into action to each their appointed task
Some heaving ropes, others mounting the mast
All working together to achieve one aim
To secure the sails aloft the bounteous main
A rumble of thunder and a flash lightening sound
Mountainous waves gather pace all around
Working in unison the crew now complete
All tasks meritorious as a well drilled fleet
A shout from the Captain, as the thunder roars
Urgently gesticulating "secure the oars"
Rain clashing as in sword play
Freeze drench they stand
As they see the top sail rend
Now all secured they disappear down
Below decks they ruminate
All worrying, no sound
Then vocal in assumptions from mate to mate
Until the Captain shouts "Silence no need for this din,
I shall calculate our bearings, now where to begin?"
Spreading out his charts he clears cups for a space
Each man concentrating, deep intent on each face
"Look Captain", one points "there's the Cape of Good Hope
enough time to manoeuvre and with luck stay afloat"
The temperature plummets and the crew mill around
No warmth except mittens and blankets draped around
The storm is abating and two bells is called
As each man takes turn to pump until hauled
Buckets of water overboard they keep on
Clearing sea water over gunnels, until all is gone
Ship breaking water all in it's wake
No matter the weather only headway to make
Dolphins leaping and diving below
Thoughts turn to seamen of long ago
Royal Navy Standards, a jolly jack tar
Plotting each course by the Northern Star
Pirate vessels hoisting their skull and crossbones
Biting winds moaning and pelting hailstones
Sailing ships with elaborate sails
Above the wind, sailors hearty hales
Anchorage sought and a comfortable berth
Homeward port reached and feet on the earth.
Categories:
headway, adventure, sea, travel,
Form:
Free verse
Misstep Paradise
by Odin Roark
Like the ocean’s waves repeating themselves,
mistakes love to revisit their beginnings,
gloat about their undertow power,
and patiently prepare the next towering breaker.
As if squawking gulls lining the landfall weren’t enough,
joining the prattle is the wind’s ever-repeatable,
“I told you so” oratory.
With ebb and tide behind them,
anxious errors reach progress once alive,
now but mazes of mischance,
ghost towns replete with obligatory tumbleweeds
scurrying past longevity’s sentinels of roaches and rodents
forever faithful to new arrivals.
Even as stored images of ethereal struggle
stay ensconced in supernatural satellites,
reality’s citadel of dust-caked walls and web-laced doorways
display shattered daguerreotypes,
torn photographs,
corrupted digital projections,
3D wanderings,
and holographic ghosts
of perfection’s folly,
holding fast to historical hubris,
mastery’s habitual bungling of headway.
At one end of actuality’s ghost town,
a dangling speaker bellows forth its ceaseless maxim:
“Misstep Paradise is all that matters,
as living life void of errors is to exist
without learning the monstrous reason for it all.”
Welcome to your personal shadow zone,
mind’s inner kingdom of fortuity,
where infinity’s turn-around sign of truth,
remains your chance to finally learn…
Categories:
headway, philosophy,
Form:
Prose Poetry
The lonesome visitor approaches
With its thriving exuberance
With an infinite endurance
It meanders and broaches
It moves with blithe and glee
Clothing all that comes its way
Whether big or small; it ne'er say
"I wont for you give me no fee
It arrives from nowhere
But abides silently with us
It leaves no wailing thus
With its presence felt everywhere
A companion of the cardinals it is
From North it steers headway
From the South it nears everyday
For East and West will attest to this
It moves above you as a ringed halo
It strides with you as a compatriot
It bows before you as an abbot
It slithers beneath your feet as a shadow.
Categories:
headway, nature, endurance,
Form:
ABC