Best Hero Poems
In a world where hearts ignore compassionate cries.
Acts of kindness become rare, so empathy dies.
As human nature loses the skill to listen,
his mission is to help every smile to glisten.
He needs no theme song to introduce his name,
nor has a desire to reach Hollywood fame.
No x-ray vision nor bionic power,
he can't read minds nor move the Eiffel tower.
His tongue is an olive branch forming peaceful words,
most beautiful soul whose heart can conquer swords.
When sorrow calls and heartache leaves the mind in knots,
his sincere voice will calm those tormented thoughts.
The tenderness of his fingertips will soothe dark scars,
as the heart heals, it will illuminate like stars.
He sees no difference between a dove or pigeon,
his humble heart spreads love like a religion.
He is not the sandman, but he can help bring dreams,
he has no halo, but his love flows like streams.
His life is like a cherry blossom bud full of grace,
a butterfly who doesn't belong in this place.
In his quest he sacrifices his own pain,
aware his emotions are like sandcastles in rain.
He knows death awaits, but his empathy bleeds,
continuing to inspire, ignoring his own needs.
The Silent One
18 November 2017
Example for HERO contest
Vivid flashbacks from bloodshed battles
his soul still ravaged by devious dictators,
cries from fallen comrades still echo in his mind,
but he continues to walk upon a path of pandemonium.
Reluctantly he ventures forward with
vengeance portrayed through embers
engulfed within his frenzied eyes -
reflecting his mother's irreversible tears.
He is no mercenary nor a moneymaker,
just a repentant drifter, preparing for bedlam.
His purpose in sight, he closes his eyes,
but struggles to erase his thoughts,
as the sins of his ancestry inflict his mind.
Angels attempt to light his path with harmonic chords,
but demons cause havoc strumming broken strings.
Entering the kingdom of dry fountains,
where God has no influence,
he is afraid to inhale its corrupt pollutant air.
Charcoal clouds rumble,
before horizons shed unwelcome tears.
Before him platinum priests preach,
as court jesters dance with sly grins,
hiding metaphorical daggers behind their backs.
To his right overfull hospitals have no beds,
as penniless patients plead to be cured.
To his left the self proclaimed vain king
sits on his cardboard throne,
throwing dollars into a blazing fire place.
To his side his tyrannical hypocritical queen
hides behind her simulated smile,
oblivious to her narcissistic prince's incest desires
towards her clueless imbecilic princess.
It's an endless loop of greed cultivating corrupt seed,
which continues to breed nefarious creed.
Miserable masses attempt to break free,
but their liberation is dissected by cretinous henchmen.
In the marketplace of Machiavellian thieves,
merchant pawns auction fragmented dreams.
Sold to the biggest idiot!
His eyes full of disbelief, now rage with anarchy!
Intoxicated knights raise their half empty glasses,
as he calmly walks into this man made sand castle.
Gifts the cunning conniving cook some cyanide,
which he empties into his delectable broth.
Both watch as the elevated ones savour it like dogs,
perishing dramatically to their deserved downfall.
Beyond his childhood playground,
now with rusty swings and slides,
he places a crimson rose upon his mother's grave,
kissing her untouched headstone.
Expressionless he walks into the distance,
as storms wash away weak foundations.
Silent One
25 July 2018
Hidden beauty I know can dwell
within a body worn and frail.
I think of one who had been doled
great miseries, so once grown old,
his body seemed a dismal shell. .
Although he’d lived on earth his hell,
grown nearly crippled and unwell,
his inner fortitude was gold -
Hidden beauty!
Life’s many hardships could not quell
his positivity, nor fell
that strength - his fire against the cold -
a virtue that should be extolled!
In knowing him, I well could tell
hidden beauty.
For Skat's the Premiere Contest number 14 Poetry Contest
Heroes
When need arises they rise up in every town
No matter the toll it takes, they just carry on,
But not everyone will recognize who they are
For heroes of the town don't have name-tags on.
No one sings their praises in course of their deeds
To make a difference quietly they proceed
As if the music to their song is not yet composed
For lyrics, though written, have not been disclosed.
Don't search far and wide to see this phenomenon
Just look at human actions in their simplest form,
Like a mother who wakes up at stroke of every dawn
To care for her kids since the day they were born.
A father who toils daily to send his kid to college
Waiting to hug his child on the day of graduation,
And a teacher who delivers gladly gift of education
Working for low wages never seeking recognition.
Fighting fires in the neighborhood or in the wild
A fireman saves a child's life but dies before his time,
And a policeman who dies at the scene of a crime
Leaves young family behind at height of his prime.
A doctor who spends all night to save a man's life
When no one is at home to care for his sick wife,
And a brick layer who works in the heat of summer
To construct a pathway for the rest of us to walk over.
A child who didn't know how to use the phone
Saves grandma's life getting through the dial tone,
And a captain in the army dies to save fellow soldiers
While his young family left behind silently smolders.
Heroes everywhere fight challenges that are rife
They reside among us uplifting every walk of life.
November 20, 2017
Placed 1st: Heroes
Sponsor: Silent One
HM: Strand choice V contest by Brian Strand
Young and pretty, living a normal life
Suddenly her world would never be the same
Her lovely boy born with special needs
Her daily life now the toughest of games
She carries on with her head held high
Having a career, still being his mother
Constantly dealing with medical issues
Yet she would not change him for another
Nurses and doctors fill her daily life
Fighting for the services that he needs
Never one complaint does she voice
Knowing not where his path will lead
A special soul; accepting the hand dealt
My admiration for this woman so deeply felt…..
note---
I am privileged to be one of his nurses...I have never seen a stronger
more dedicated mother..
He cloaked her skin
with a dark silk gown
made of tattered wings
neath the hunter' skies
He covered her hair
with a mourning veil
Upon her face
his hands did play
Mysteriously
the vacant gaze
the secret pains
His brush did paint
the monaliza's eyes
upon her lips
he carved a smile
with no expressions
nor expectations
of what one is to behold
Enigmatic, Suffocating
Secret whispers still untold
Ghostly mist will keep on lingering
in the silence of her soul
There she stares
from the old portrait
Would somebody let her go?
He stares
He ponders
Was this the girl who entered his dream?
Did he paint her pain?
Was she the same?
Lush lips that couldn't smile
Sullen eyes that couldn't lie
telling of strife
unable to bloom
sheltered from the light
Futures slowed
Hopes dashed
Dreams crushed
Was he to save her?
Thoughts echoed in his mind
Is he her savior?
Her mystery?
Her hero?
Will he fly to her side?
Will he be her star that shines?
Listen closely
the portrait calls
save me, come save me
To honor my hero.
A wee superhero.
Has shoplifted my heart
Autistic, but so smart.
Place him in shopping cart
Grandma can we see toys;
He makes such welcome noise.
Look at that,
Look at that.
Look at the bubble,
A bubble in a bubble.
Bubbles going faster.
My living-room a disaster.
A wee superhero the master,
He came into my life
In a time of bitter strife.
My wee bug
Welcomes with bear hugs.
To honor my Hero
A wee superhero.
7/22/2022
To Honor My Hero Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
He walked with her a good mile
and talked with increasing smile,
with wonder he sat,
for the gladness in her heart;
...spent her days with wild hope ---
that he was in her eldest dreams,
from the beginning smote her monsters
and eased her deepest fears...
Now he rode with her again on his great white steed,
'til the edge of some mystic dusk;
and turn they could though too darkling
the winnowed wood, and chasing with shadows
the misted nite path, and she finally bade him
and his hidden forest hideaway;
so quaint and annointed with its little beds,
and bruin skins 'ere the hearth
and lordly portraits above its mantel;
and he lit it alive with warmth,
and the moon had come swift through the garland window
And in her hand he thrust the dearest of wine,
with nectar lush for a goddess,
and dearer her heart for him more they dined;
yet he pressed no closer ---
and gazed delicately glancing her bosom,
remained mostly her lunar eyes...
and bade her a fine warm shawl ---
But the wine and fire...his eyes...
his eyes upon her though brief ---
stroked her where they fell,
and smiling she was longing his lips,
but caught her lust...
her heart! she could hear it drumming desperate
" I am almost too warm for your fine shawl..."
" Too warm? " said the lord ---
" no wine could simmer so, and the fireplace
too slight for such heat... your eyes undress me... "
And no nite they had ended...
nor any morning come betwixt them,
(but a kingdom of love in some forest green)
I am very pleased to present a fourth collaboration, this time in rhyme
with my dear friend Lawrence Sharp, a truly exceptional poet.
.
Thank you, Lawrence, for your great inspiration
and ongoing fellowship.
Ancient Hero, Firm And Honorable Til Death
Twas not roses painted bright red upon his shield
he that with great courage refused to ever yield;
with beating heart and full faith in his saving God
slayed monstrous beasts, going where only heroes trod
with no complaint of hardest sacrifices made,
he gave back no ground and bright red-blood wet his blade.
Family crest of roses and red bird of prey.
Its motto, 'True to our beloved God we stay'.
Decades flown by, great battles fought under red sun
bravery gave strength to finish what was begun;
strongest spirit with true soul to match and hold true
to the solemn vows and painful costs surely due
his right arm, servant of Light, Truth and Divine God,
with love of family and his faith, his firm rod.
Family crest of roses and red bird of prey.
Its motto, 'True to our beloved God we stay.'
War's end, dusk of last decade under cloud's cover
would be pride and pain greatest to lifelong lover;
fiercest and most wicked was the very last foe,
The Serpent King blithely cast gods and angels low;
most prized the triumph or most abject the defeat,
in driving rain the greatest challenge he would meet.
Family crest of roses and red bird of prey.
Its motto, 'True to our beloved God we stay'.
Unclean was the battle and untold was its cost,
lives of men and monsters were sacrificed, not lost;
The Ancient Hero stood and faced The Serpent King,
final bloody battle he knew would bring death's sting;
perished with his bane, war's demons and gods destroyed,
mightiest foe with him he took into the void.
Family crest of roses and red bird of prey.
Its motto, 'True to our beloved God we stay'.
A collaboration with Lawrence Sharp
9th November 2018
Unsung Hero – The Soldier
Warily he stood at the corner,
Wondering which way to turn.
A weary smile on his faded brow,
As he held out an old worn-out hat hoping for handouts,
A few miserly pennies or perhaps, even a piece of bread.
This once proud soldier,
Now reduced to being a petty beggar,
Was a remnant of a cruel war;
Where he once stood side-by-side with his comrades
And helplessly watched them fall one-by-one.
Cruel memories haunted his saddened heart,
As he each day he desperately tried to survive,
Wondering if it would have been better
If he too on the bloody battlefield had died -
But there was no real answer.
Maybe it was good that he had done his duty
Fighting for those who couldn’t.
But now he was forgotten and forlorn,
With no honor, no glory,
He was just a nobody.
With warm tears streaming down his cold cheeks,
Even now he thought of his fallen comrades,
Questioning if they were really in a better place -
What if?
Why?
His thoughts about his tortured past
Continued to cling to him,
Like the tattered coat
He wore during the day,
And used for a pillow at night.
In his mind, he was still on the battlefield,
Only this time he battled invisible foes -
A mind growing feeble, homelessness,
Hunger, loneliness, and most of all –
Not having anyone to love him.
9-16-2014
Beneath embered brands of burning roof,
The firefighter waits.
His mask is on; he’s donned his gloves,
Ready to enter the fiery state.
Once again to battle beast,
Whose heart burns with flaming hate.
On hands and knees he treads with care
Over blackened brittle floor.
Making way through smoke dark rooms
Fighting fear from door to door.
Outstretched arms reach for muffled screams
Heard above the deafening roar.
Hoping to find before too late,
The source of curdling screams.
A scenario played all too oft
Within the hero’s dreams.
The task at hand his only thought
And the safety of his team.
Crying, scared a young child waits
For rescue from choking heat.
Then through the blackness something tugs
And pulls his trembling feet.
A Vadered voice says “it’s OK”
And hugs him to the street.
The fire alone remains to beat;
And return to fight he goes.
To find the beast alive and well;
Destroying, as it grows.
He aims his weapon at the seat
And from it water flows.
The devil dies as fire gives in
To the water’s cooling spray.
The house is gone; but at least,
No lives were lost today.
So back he jumps on bright red truck,
And into night he rides away.
In quiet contemplation,
The firefighter stares.
Holding back a hundred thoughts
That known might seem him scared.
But he pushes fear aside,
And treads where others do not dare!
Unsung Hero – My Mom
My Mom has always been unassuming, never flashy,
But her name deserves to be up in bright neon lights.
My magnificent Mom, Olegaria, is my hero!
In her eyes, no one is a zero,
And she is a blessing to all who crosses her path.
Successfully raising her own five children,
She also helped to raise all the stray children in her neighborhood.
Her guiding motto is “You can’t believe in God and
Not care about others - whether it is people, plants, or animals.”
An extraordinary human being, generous to a fault,
She would give her last slice of bread
To anyone who needed to be fed.
Nothing, including her time, is too good or too precious
To share with family, friends, and even strangers.
Often she’d sacrifice her own happiness,
If it meant that others would be happy.
While Mamacita is very humble, forgiving, and non-judgmental,
She is nobody’s fool and can be a fierce lioness,
Quick to defend her values and those she loves.
Caring mothers like her are especially rare today,
And should be declared national treasures.
Because of her powerful influence and the solid values she instilled,
I am a stronger, kinder, more conscientious, and better person.
My Mom helped me to see life in a more positive
And compassionate way – to treat people
How I would like to be treated.
Even though she is not a regular church-goer,
She prays several times daily and her home is her altar.
I thank God every day for blessing me with this wonderful mother,
And for her continued presence in my life.
Mom, you will always be my hero!
07-30-2014
Contest: Tell Us About Your Mom (12-28-2015)
Sponsor: Judy Konos
Placement: 1st
Contest: Unsung Hero (07-31-2014)
Sponsor: Carol Eastman
Placement: 1st
He wrapped his arms around me
Never wanting to let go
I gently whispered in his ear
Daddy, when you coming home?
He said I'm off to battle today
To heal the wounded soldiers cries.
I don't know when or if I'll be back
The tears began to flood my eyes.
As father walked away
His smile, it did gleam.
His final words to me
Became but a nightmare within a dream.
The bomb rang out
Through the desert air.
When the dust did settle
They found father there.
The soldiers stood at attention
They saluted their brother goodbye,
And the eagle spread its wings
As a true American soldier, had died.
How can I thank you for saving our lives?
Because of you my whole family survives
My pups and I were surrounded by smoke
As you rushed through the door, we heard you choke
The flames you doused after pulling us out
My gratitude I offer, snout to snout
I see you have burn marks behind your cheek
I, too, have scars on my black coat once sleek
And as I gaze into your bright blue eyes
I’ve seen you before, I now realize
We’d been in front of the World Trade Center
My owner and I watched as you entered
A hero in every sense of the word
Your safety for others always deferred
And to think you’d risk your life once again
When fire victims were not even human
*For Joyce Johnson’s “Doggy Gratitude” contest
ECHOES IN THE STONE
No one can turn back the hands of time
Reliving the war, TEXAS her independence
The tombs so deep, where real hero's fought and fell
A place so precious, sacred in every hold
A timeless journey, with no stop to heal
To find your eyes upon this treasure's glaze
Hearing stories not found in fairy-tale books
Finding GRACE in this AMAZING place
The legendary ALAMO, over freedom, a ghost town
Walking by the thousands, beyond this land
Outnumbered
Echoes in the stones
A painful event, UN erased
Defenders of the ALAMO gathered to unite
With their life's they put up an honorable fight
Heroes who embraced a defeat in March 1836
A battle deeply wounded overnight
Bravery in their hearts
No time to be scared.
Where the wind now blows,
Echoes in our souls.
With one touch, embrace the south wall
Hearing whispers, sad echoes-I call
Chills traveled down my spine
Standing among all heroes who are still buried,
In their home at the ALAMO
Echo's in the stone
Proud of the ALAMO.
Echoes in the stone
Where a hero still stands tall
Heroes even beyond their last breath,
Death being their only bail
Heroically fighting with their own will and liberty
In hopes, that justice would prevail
The ALAMO rebuilt, standing strong
Full of life, in the center of San Antone'
The voices, the scream,
Piercing the stone
Fighting till their death
"Remember the Alamo!"
The echoes in the stone, a hero's home
Locked inside each stone of eyes
Heroes who died,
Cried their last words
"VIVA THE ALAMO!"
SKAT