Best Heralded Poems
Ten Years Had Raced Into Oblivion's Cup
Second Poets Tribute Series, Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Chained am I, to desolation's huge anchor
on its long black ship, cargo of hate and rancor
yet in spirit oft I roamed blue skies above
and in my fantastic dreams, found I my true love!
Such was a balm that fled when heartache renewed
Could return only when young life was reviewed!
Alas! At night stars dimmed and evil winds blew
midnight hour, I was served bones I could not chew
and a foul drink of bitter regrets and lying
as Fate had set me here, this ship of slow dying!
Such was a dark curse, uttered by her deep hate
For she turned to darkness to then alter my Fate!
Ten years had raced into oblivion's cup
into darkest seas we went, I never gave up
tho' soul had been impaled by poisonous blades
I clung to that romantic love that never fades!
Such as the poets of old sang and wrote about
Crying to the heavens, chorus of mighty shouts!
Chained was I, to desolation's huge anchor
on its long black ship, cargo of hate and rancor
yet in spirit oft I roamed blue skies above
and in my fantastic dreams, found I my true love!
Such was a balm that fled when heartache renewed
Could return only when young life was reviewed!
Robert J. Lindley, 11-10-2019
Rhyme, ( With imagination, laced in darkness, that life hath a poet shown )
Inspired by Samuel Taylor Coleridge's famous poem, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner First poet- poem: of the Second series of poet's tribute poems.
(Five new poets chosen in this Second series.)
Note:
1.
https://www.britannica.com/biography/Samuel-Taylor-Coleridge
Samuel Taylor Coleridge, (born October 21, 1772, Ottery St. Mary, Devonshire, England—died July 25, 1834, Highgate, near London), English lyrical poet, critic, and philosopher. His Lyrical Ballads, written with William Wordsworth, heralded the English Romantic movement, and his Biographia Literaria (1817) is the most significant work of general literary criticism produced in the English Romantic period.
much more at link given...
samuel-taylor-coleridge
2.
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/samuel-taylor-coleridge
Categories:
heralded, anger, art, dedication, fantasy,
Form:
Rhyme
The sun set peacefully
as I looked out towards
the distant red horizon
of the calm, oily sea.
A gentle breeze caressed me,
I stood on the edge of the beach
leaving imprints on the fine sand.
I loved this lonely beach,
the silence was broken softly
by the azure wavelets
that brushed the edge of the sand.
So much beauty and wonder
despite the darkness
that, like an old fog, descended
upon that peaceful part of earth.
I looked towards the sky
dotted with billowy clouds
that raced below the twinkling stars.
I wondered if my angel was up above,
looking down on me,
guarding me from my earthly woes.
What could I do without
my heavenly being of love?
I felt immense tranquillity,
the beach shrouded in peace
far away from the noisy cities
to which I would have to return.
The stars appeared: the evening star,
was it that heralded
the birth of my Creator?
It mattered not, for I was safe.
He was taking care of me.
I knew I'd never be forlorn.
Those days have passed.
Now I'm back home
among cold concrete blocks.
Yet in my heart is peace
for I can still hear
the gentle lapping of the sea waves
on the peaceful beach
that is my own.
Categories:
heralded, city, peace, silence,
Form:
Free verse
Christmas carols are being sung,
As bells are joyfully being rung,
Heralding the Christ Child’s birth,
As Christmas Day, we celebrate with mirth.
But lets think of Joseph and Mary now,
As they must find an Inn, they vow.
All are full, where will they go,
As Mary is nigh, a holy child to bestow.
A stable they see before them,
With sheep and lambs, they hurry in,
The time is almost now,
When many holy men will bow.
A manger is turned into a crib,
A bird above sings cheep, cheep, cheep,
Straw, Joseph lays in the manger,
The baby cries,
This story I have often heard,
Tears always fill my eyes.
A star shines brightly in the sky,
Three wise men see it way up high.
They follow it to the holy babe,
Who with miracles one day,
Would pave the way,
For faith in ever lasting life.
The Wise Men from the East they came
With one ambition,
Gold, frankincense and myrrh they brought,
To honor the Christ child
Was their mission.
Shepherds saw the star and also came
To Bethlehem to bring the Christ child
Gifts of faith and love, gratitude
And devotion, all spiritual gifts,
The distance traveled by these lowly
Folk my soul did stir,
My spirit pounded, His birth heralded
With heavenly angelic flair.
As the Christ child grew into a man,
Jesus his name, He sent forth
Disciples of his faith,
Who spread the Christian faith,
As he so often preached and saith.
Categories:
heralded, christmas,
Form:
Rhyme
Scarlett thought she was promised permanent security.
Satchels of resilience bound her fragile wrists.
Woodland deities hailed her.
Underworld demons feared her.
The curious townsfolk simply stood in contemplation -
Inviting epee's gleamed in their eyes
as the garden shears, in their hands, smiled.
Scarlett oft pretended she was Joan of Arc.
Threads of meshed titanium webbed her sheltered heart.
Sour Grimm moppets heralded her.
Skeptical fairy godmothers chastised her.
The relentless wheel of innocence spun without interruption.
Persnickety rogues sashayed in dumbed silence -
permitting their sordid counterparts unwelcomed invitations
into a void where reverend satchels are tragically punctured.
Scarlett donned spiked eye patches in her latter years.
Protective velour swatches masking mass and the masses.
Myths and urban legends empathized with her.
Gods and martyrs appropriately buried her.
The dumbfounded spirits circle Scarlett's broken window with raised eyebrows.
Quizzically staring at rotting barrels littered with skeins if shredded satchels -
yards if tainted fibers being hopelessly spun into yet another
dark, forgotten midnight.
Categories:
heralded, irony, sad love,
Form:
Free verse
Once significant and alluring, your luster faded.
Perhaps it was the treachery in hollow eyes jaded.
Was there ever a light
in a soul dark as night?
Promises of love only heralded grief;
faith I once had turned to disbelief.
She was younger, pretty, but above all newer.
Agony in my heart came from betrayal’s skewer.
How could I blame her when I knew that soon
your allegiance would change like the inconstant moon?
She would then feel the fickle pitchfork of pain -
those knots in her stomach twisted by emotions feigned.
Only now can I see you for what you are.
Anger settled; no longer do we spar.
Bitterness made way for resignation again.
Maybe I shall once more learn to trust men.
Then I can guide your latest castaway
and ease the surging sting of her dismay.
Your fate rests on a tremulous shore
where, as looks fade, you can offer nothing more.
*Written November 21, 2014
Categories:
heralded, jealousy, recovery from,
Form:
Rhyme
As the reaper approached, I lie waiting for death,
whispering sad goodbyes while gasping for breath.
In a blurry haze of awareness, I drift towards sleep,
as visions of childhood days in my mind slowly creep.
I hear muffled sobs of loved ones as they weep.
There's a shadowy presence flying high overhead,
those scavengers of death, those that I most dread.
Their beady black eyes intent on watching my face,
circling around and around. It's a feast they chase,
ebon wing feathers falling as they hasten their pace.
I've need of sanity, so I close my eyes and pretend
I'm walking on a summer day with my best friend.
We're chasing tadpoles and sloshing in streams,
laughing as our skin turns bronze from sunbeams,
then I wake to realize that these were but dreams.
My memories are fading, and my lips feel numb.
To eternity's slumber, I will soon succumb.
I asked someone near me to chase them away...
She bent close and whispered, "What did you say?"
"The vultures circling me. Please keep them at bay."
Clusters of tenebrous clouds obscured the sunlight.
I heard raucous calls of the damned vultures in flight.
Oh, how I begged for their tormenting caws to cease,
for only then would I live my last moments in peace.
I heralded silence then welcomed life's release.
July 10, 2022
Pick-A-Title, Vol 31 Contest
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh
Theme: Vultures Circling
Categories:
heralded, death, fear,
Form:
Rhyme
She That Embraced The Darkness In Her Veins
With her mind not sick of dark devious games
she opens dead doors, tossing in more painful blames
in newly acquired realm, no mercy was real
as darkness ate away, weeping heart to steal.
She planted her black roses, her favorite crop
Embracing hate masters, never going to stop.
As her heart transformed to stone, sky fell away
nights holding no moons and bright stars, only grey
listening for wolves to howl and night owls hoot
she pondered life and how deep her ancient roots.
Garden wide, its radiant color darkest black
She counted her evil chips, in multiple stacks.
With heartache's deadliest weapon, she spared none
as souls shattered, she would cry out, this is fun
in heralded glory, she lit bigger fires
lustily craving hotter funeral pyres.
When nights got boring, her satanic eyes would blaze
Out into waiting wild world, all hell she would raise.
Robert J. Lindley, 8-02-2018
Rhyme, (Dark Oft Invades Broken Hearts)
Note- The muse said, when darkness invades and the heart saddens and sinks
write words from malevolent parades and pour us both much stiffer drinks!
Categories:
heralded, corruption, dance, dark, deep,
Form:
Rhyme
It’s funny how things that used to be funny,
Aren’t allowed to be funny no more,
What was once a joke that heralded laughter,
Now seems to set off a small war.
Jokes about blondes, Irish and mum’s,
Jokes about folks that you knew,
Got replaced with: PMS jokes aren’t funny….. Period! or
I hate peer pressure, you should too.
To be fair these new puns, with double entendre,
Are funny when said in a crowd,
It’s funny how this Funny replaced the old Funny,
Funny how we are laughing out loud.
Written on 4th August 2017 but not for any contest. This is the only contest this write has been put into. Thought this might suit the contest for Maria Williams "I started a joke"
Categories:
heralded, funny, humor, silly,
Form:
Quatrain
Huddled in Burton's doorway, head down,
the windblown rain at almost forty five degrees
soaking me from the knees downwards.
Reflecting on the paving, the red, amber and green
from the traffic lights heralded a wave of white from passing headlights,
like theatre curtains opening.
And centre stage stood I.
The clock at Samuel's jeweller said nine seventeen.
I thought I blended in well- the tailor's dummies in the windows
either side of me, equally well dressed, stared vacantly
into a dark alien world. I envied them.
They were dry.
And not waiting on a first date.
A quick glance up.
The clock said nine seventeen.
They say that time slows down when you're idle, or impatient,
and I was starting to bow to this unproven scientific truth.
Two pretty girls strode past beneath a mangled umbrella,
one briefly threw a smile my way, almost lost in a giggle.
I counted my twentieth chorus of red, amber and green.
It was nine seventeen.
She said she'd be here for nine. I looked at my watch.
Ten O'clock.
The bells of the Guildhall and the Cathedral smugly agreed,
H. Samuel had been lying all along.
The rain had stopped. I stepped out into the throng of couples,
dressed in my singleness, as the girls with the broken umbrella,
now discarded, approached.
No giggles- she gave the same smile, but her eyes knew my plight,
then she shrugged.
I found a bar and sat in damp trousers with a beer, and watched the big screen
to take my mind off a wasted evening.
The rugby was just finishing.
God does have a sense of humour,
England beating France-
Seventeen points to nine.
25th June 2018
For contest 'nine seventeen', sponsor John Lawless
Categories:
heralded, time,
Form:
Free verse
like a grumpy ogre the twisted old tree stood guard
notched scraggy boughs reached out in fierce surety
naught had ever compromised its task
in its dutiable charge
the primeval stone held fast the blade
proud and righteous Caliburn
its hilt pointed to the stars
the enchanted issue of Merlin's resolve
and steadfast keeper of the kingdom
thankless was the old tree's post
none would e'er recall its name
no eye would shed a salty drip to its end
nay an honored oath spoken to its passing
still it stood
through the countless sad losses
when the Wee Ones would die in autumn
such beautiful quiet deaths
falling in color to the forest carpet
one soft exquisite flight to their end
each one by itself
each one dear to the old tree
still it stood fearless and proud
for it alone would be the first to witness
it alone would hear the whisper of the wind
when it breathed the name of the new king
when it heralded the name of freedom to the world
when The One slipped the blade from its surly bonds
and the ancient stone split in righteous temper
knife and knight
blade and banneret
Caliburn and king!
like a grumpy ogre the twisted old tree
stood guard
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Unsheathe Your Sword" Poetry Contest
John Lawless, Judge & Sponsor.
* This poem is written in "Suzette Prime", (created by a PS member), which consists of lines of prime number syllable counts ONLY, no punctuation or capitalizations, and only of topics which lend themselves to a philosophical statement. *
Categories:
heralded, courage, england, history, magic,
Form:
Suzette Prime
GEORGE BERNARD SHAW
George Bernard Shaw, born in 1856,
Wrote plays and novels,
But for me the most
Important was he wrote many a poem
A quote of his “Write your sad times
In Sand, write your good times in stone”.
My poem ‘From Humble Beginnings’
Just the title mind you, is exactly from
Where Mr Shaw heralded, Dublin
Ireland, his fame was renown, no
University background, yet Literature
For Bernard was just thrilling,
And his quotes, plays and poems,
Always fulfilling.
“A life spent making mistakes is not only
Honorable, but more useful than a
life spent doing nothing”.
His winnings
Were numerous among which,
The Nobel Prize, and even an Oscar.
His quote “Life isn’t about finding
Yourself, Life is about creating
Yourself”. And, as such to be convincing.
His interest in politics was avid, he was
A true Socialist and joined the Fabian
Society, he became popular and
Enjoyed doing theater critics.
Started writing his own plays,
In so many different themes, the class
System, religion and the inequalities
In life. The public responded to his natural
Humor, Shaw's quote “The longer I live,
The more convinced am I that this planet
Is used by other planets as a lunatic asylum”.
For, said this wise poet,
“Progress is impossible without change, and
Those who cannot change their minds cannot
Change anything” and furthermore,
"We don’t stop playing because we grow old,
We grow old because we stop playing”
This famous Literary man George Bernard Shaw,
Was 94 years of age,
When he died in 1950
He wrote famous novels, poems
And plays for the stage,
But I will leave you with one other quote
Of his “Happy is the man who can
Make a living by his hobby”.
Categories:
heralded, poets,
Form:
Free verse
The cherry blossom over the Osaka River in Osaka city,
Keeps the castle overhead mesmerized in its beauty,
The pink and white blossom sparkle and shine on nice Spring Day,
Like the stars glowing from supernova in an explosive way.
The spring has heralded its arrival in a magnificent way,
The blossoms bend over to greet the sightseers in Japanese way,
Reflecting its beauty and majesty in the river,
The snow-covered mountains turning green in its wonder.
Cherry blossoms are so reflective and full of charms,
Romance and pleasure have been invoked forever in hearts,
The painting of woman in red and white kimonos picnicking in the park,
Blends the vision of the painter with nature’s most beautiful art.
In the nighttime, the castle is illuminated in nice colors in dark sky,
The cherry blossoms radiate their own heavenly charm in dark sky,
Songs of nightingale make her divine in moonlit night,
The onlookers hope that they would not lose such a beautiful sight.
Throngs of people view the beauty of blossoms, in sheer admiration,
So intricate, they can only be designed by God in heaven,
Butterflies drink its nectar,
Bees and hummingbirds spread its pollen to needy in nature.
On a spring rain, or a windy day, the blossoms depart,
They fall, leave the tree, signifying transience of good life,
The blossoms will be celebrated in dance and art,
I will wait till next spring, to see the cycle of rebirth in life.
Categories:
heralded, spring,
Form:
Free verse
A picture appeared on my phone today,
on the proverbial page I perused.
A view of an evil most vile,
villainy veiled behind verve and vim.
Sadists from Auschwitz,
smiling in a storm.
Shoulders shrugging,
to shield from the sky.
No hint of the horrors,
the Holocaust they heralded.
Not haunted like the humans they harrow,
but hyenas, howling, in high humor after the hunt.
Their consciences clear, their cruelty concealed,
their cheer chills me to the core.
They caused such wicked calvary,
a calamity that echoes into the current century.
Yet they dare to delight,
while they deal in death and dread.
Their depravity so deep that they grin,
as they decry virtue and destroy millions.
But what mortifies me more is,
how mundane their mien.
Will we fear the next fiends fittingly,
or in time... if their faces feel like friends'?
Categories:
heralded, evil, fear, holocaust, horror,
Form:
Alliteration
Suspense is a thing worth not knowing
Dying for the knowledge of the mystery
From novice to brainiac ever flowing,
Slipping into the dark annals of history.
Shudders at the noise of victims’ crying
Suspense is a thing worth not knowing,
Keeping chilblains on the skin denying
Revealing information ne’er extolling.
Red herrings by the hundreds growing
In long heralded stories not so mastered
Suspense is a thing worth not knowing,
Fabled tales of untamed roguish bastards.
Best sellers from all leather anthologies
With black ravens and murderous crowing,
Translated to filmdom with no apologies
Suspense is a thing worth not knowing.
Written June 1, 2022
Categories:
heralded, mystery, writing,
Form:
Quatern
Starlets tender their heralded names
Just another pretty face; another superficial dame
Brokered pawns in tawdry, transparent game
Bartered tinder is their trite acclaim
Stars that twinkled then imploded in combustible flame
Fickle lives; filthy lucre their singular aim
Pleasing the masses with articial drama their claim to fame
Egotistical debutantes who proudly gilded their shame
Fealty and familial bonds with pleasure they did cripple, mame
Fading memories that inspired more of the same
Burnished symbols remembered only by their surname
Categories:
heralded, on work and working,
Form:
Rhyme