Best Heroic Couplet Poems


Sailors Follow

Those stars that sailors follow
Guiding less the sea to swallow

And the night seas black as tar
Beyond the wave a land afar

Halyards taught, blocks in tallow
Breezes fresh and salt swallow

Timbers creak, white horses foam
Callused hands and oceans comb

And the stars pull them forth
South, east, west and north

Cabin boy or salty jack
Afore the mast, bare their back

Seas of glass or howling gales
Stands his watch what ever ails

For them the ocean a magic place
For every dawn a changing face

The face of his one true love
The wind, stars, skies above

The Blood Stained Bridge

Into the timeless wood he fled, running from the night
While demons of his past gave chase beneath the pale moonlight
The man dressed in soiled rags, filth of his own making
Had spent a life unto himself, all others there forsaking.

But in the night, as shadows came, though nothing made a sound
A voice there in the dark he heard, though no one was around
Calling out to him by name, “Go… seek the blood stained bridge
Its ageless timber, dogwood made, up on yon high ridge.”

Somehow, he knew the voice he heard while running from the night
Was not from friend or foe without, but came from deep inside
So run he did through elder wood, to find the yon high ridge
The Voice there still was guiding him to reach the fabled bridge.

In agony, all power spent, found he the edge of night
His demons dogged him all the way and pressed him for a fight
The host advanced and pushed him back, back toward yon high ridge
But, when he turned to his dismay, he found no “saving” bridge.

He questioned if the voice he heard and trusted in the night
Was naught but wishful thinking; a last ditch hope-filled lie
In anguish and frustration there, he stood in fear and pain
And cursed his stubborn nature that kept him bound in shame.

Despairing for the life he’d lived, in fear of coming death
He fell there on the shifting sand and cried with his last breath
“I’m sorry for the things I’ve done and regret the life I’ve led”
He turned then to accept his fate, but there appeared the bridge instead.

The shadows all began to fade, his soul started to mend
As he took the first step ‘cross that bridge, the night came to an end
Waiting on the other side, the risen sun in brilliant light
The Voice within him beckoned, “Come,” then freed him from the night.


                                                                 ~Christopher Thor Britt

Written In the Sand

WRITTEN IN THE SAND

The Big Five—Africa’s pride in the vast open wild
Buffalo, Rhinoceros, Elephant, Leopard and Lion
Their prey—scattered Impala, Kudu and Waterbuck
On hardened dust… their footprints prevail and stand

WRITTEN IN THE SAND

The proposal day--- carefully planned- a beautiful beach
Red Roses, a Picnic, Sunrise and Diamond ring
The petals—scattered on the soft damp sea tabloid
Lover’s plea….a stick his pen, “Marry me—take my hand”

WRITTEN IN THE SAND

Early one morning--- He entered the dusty temple to teach
Scribes and Pharisees brought her in—an adulterous
Large stones…scattered for all to throw and accuse
Jesus bent down… wrote with His finger on condemning land

What was His message…..?

WRITTEN IN THE SAND


Necromancer (The Haunting Continues...)

In the cemetery I walk, so dark it is this night.
 Hoping that the Ghouls won't start to bite.
I feel the tug of the dead, as each grave I pass.
 Thankful this nervous tension won't last.

Armed with my Animation supplies,
 I stare out at all the green glowing eyes.
A chicken for my blood sacrifice,
 Raising the dead, there's always a price.

The salt keeps the dead inside.
 Using the machete our magic, we'll ride.
Salt is for everybody's protection.
 Cold steal seals out any deception.

To prime the earth so the dead will rise,
 cast the blood and create our ties.
Focus my energy and the ground starts to shake.
 Winds whip through the area and the on-lookers quake.

I command all that is at least 3 days dead.
 Just enough time for the soul to move ahead.
Born with this power as a Necromancer,
 When I will my power all the dead have to answer.

I look to Sandra Hudson, who hired me,
 to raise the dead and hear their screams.
I call Illyanna De La Keur from her deep, dark grave.
 Her words are scary so be very, very brave.


For John Loving III's "Haunted Poets Society"

Premium Member A Giving Tree

A course-correction knife was plunged too late.
A smile was still, upon her lips, that date.

Clueless, for most of life, the cherries, green.
Her shoulder-bluffs and high-peak cheeks are seen.

She stands five feet, barely a statue-bold.
Appears quite warm with bundled arms of gold.

A pointed thumb at chest level. A charm
Bracelet does shake with silver-fake alarm.

The lyrics play a lycra-schmooze with stretch.
Uncanny walking cane, amidst homestretch.

A slide puzzle, her wrinkles crash and burn.
Only then, girl, a happenstance upturn.

A giving tree, with scathing sack of seed.
The dandiest scatters of yellow weed.

A field not quite a rose, with weaker stems.
A chosen path amidst headstones - few gems.

But remembered, oh yes. Her name engraved
and youthful picture set. ‘Tis what she craved.

The Sea In Her Heart

Her heart sailed away from me into the sea,
Her love for me is just a fading memory.
I think of her love and faint to pray,
I trust in my God to show me the way.


Come back to me my love in the moon light night,
Embrace me once again for my heart to delight.
Come like the sea birds flying over the sea,
Come kiss me again for my heart to be free.

You are the young sunlight rising in the morning,
You are the brilliant full moon O my immortal darling!
I see you like the sea waves on the shores of our hearts,
Don't leave me and go for our souls to depart.

You shall be my eternal destiny until the end of time,
You are my divine inspiration in my sweet love rhyme.
Live in my heart and return to me once again,
Give me your sweet kiss to heal my heart's pain.

Let your love grow like a tree planted by the sea,
Fly away like the sea birds but come back to me.
Let your soul be join to mine as my everlasting token,
Kiss me forever more for our hearts never to be broken.

By:Gideon Cecil


Perfect Winter Night

This is a perfect winter night to tandem thyself with my sizzling nerves 
Candle light stuns thy hips moving in wine-red skirt, penning killer curves
O’ watch our bed rose’s flame in moonlight, instating a scene of heaven 
Bewitch all my hormones with your fervent lips, sipping glimpses of Champaign

Not the dressing but only the undressing would unveil the unanimous pleasure 
Writing a simile is impossible to explicate the true sense of rubbing thou bare 
Gripping my hands to thy hips, pinning thy legs, should it get thee so helpless?
Slow like a tide while I move in thee, thou woo me with thy yearning murmurs

Wine in your eyes sets the blaze in my rise, what else on earth is wise than this libido
Dun no why, while I race my insane moves unto thy pulses, thou ever gave a “Go”!
Cruising my fingers down across thy necklace, should it get thee so restless?
Like a roll of wheels, I keep banging with no pauses hoping something clueless

Is this a mission of flooding bliss unto the myriad nerves, in an act of gleeful fission?
I fall on thou with a feel of ousting a “Niagara”; thou hugged me with none between
O’ what a wonder, I am alive though, after halting my heart & glancing the heaven
Beheld I am mesmerized between your pleasing eyes sinking in the ocean of ******

Crying In the Rain

Crying in the Rain
Lurking behind the curtain of world war ;
You cheer to a Monday Night Raw;
              
Dancing to the melody of anarchy;
You close your senses to impending waterloo,

Completely deaf to the screams of mother earth 
Who is subdued by industrial rape; she echoes dearth...

Forlorn sky weeps on; threatening oxygen depletion at the detriment of ocean life.
Father sun rages on; amidst earth's strife...

Refugee camps replace loving homes;
And mats replace comforting foams

Chibok continues to wail for her missing daughters;
As valiant khakis rummage the forest of Sambisa...

The mantra of change echoes on amidst chains:
As a fraction of the world cry in the rain...

Flora and fauna looks on in docility,
As humanity continue to dance to the melodies of calamity.

Stronger Than She Thinks.....

She is a loving mother, 
 her pain is like no other.
Kids taken all at once away.
 A price too steep to have to pay.

Holds her head up high, 
 when all she wants to do is die.
She thinks her pain is masked, 
 but as you see, its no easy task.

She's strong and still fights, 
 even when they say she has no rights.
She dreams of seeing her kids, 
 trying hard to keep the pain hid.

She goes to court and really fights, 
 only to come home alone and cry at night.
Still, she continues this uphill battle.
 Her confidence, they constantly rattle.

Goes to work and tries to smile, 
 as her heart is breaking all the while.
Wish I was a much better sister, 
 who called and let her know I missed her.

I had my own tumultuous issues, 
 it was she who really needed the tissues.
I just had a crappy, low life man.
 By her side her family should stand.

Instead they all give her grief.
 Do they not see her pain will never be brief?
No, they all say they are sorry, but they're full of lies.
 Didn't they know it was her LIFE in demise?

A better sister, I'll try to be.
 Her back she never turned to me.
I hope she knows she's loved and cared for.
 Her smile I'd like to see more.

I know that's no easy task.
 But that I will still ask.
As they push her to the brink,
 She's stronger than she ever thinks.




A combined effort for Kristy.....

The First Full Moon

Almost a month since that fateful night
That I was bitten under the full moon's light.
I am still here but with a yearning
And wonder why a fever is burning.

I feel pulled out into the night's air
Hoping that someone will hear my prayer.
I look up into the nights black sky
And realize why I so want to wail and cry.

For there I see the full bright moon
Hanging there like a golden balloon.
As I look I feel like I am on fire
And know my situation is most dire.

Oh god... most agonizing pain!
As my bones begin to strain
And my flesh begins to rip.
I cannot seem to get a grip.

I open my mouth to scream
But from me that does not stream
Tis something that is so foul
As I recognize it is a howl!

Oh god ...this..can't...be
What is happening to me?
Blood pulses through my veins
As new thoughts slam into my brain.

I have a brand new vision
One that gives great precision.
Oh what a great sense of smell
A feeling of anticipation I can't quell.

I can't even believe my new speed
But it is blood that I do so need.
Time for me to go on the hunt
As I begin to run, I let out a grunt.

I stop and sniff as a scent comes to me,
Oh me oh my who is it? Let us see.
I turn in werewolf form to see who is here
As I thought I caught Mr. Loving's fear.

Tis blood that I do need
Time for me to feed.
He senses me and runs away
I smile as I give chase to my prey.

Mortals mortals everywhere
Of all immortals do beware
Run and hide if you can.
On the loose is this very lycan!








Just for anyone's curiosity this is not being mean to Mr.Loving the III this is my respect
for him as he tapped me for the duos and gave me the challenge for the Haunted
Poets....thanks John

Premium Member Zephyr's Magic

Zephyr’s Magic

I feel the delight of Zephyr’s Magic,
As I walk in nighttime mist majestic.  

This West wind caresses my very soul,
As I walk earful of a faint bell toll.

This West wind is so warm and compelling;
It envelopes me whole now—so telling.

Zephyr enchants my slumber on the beach,
Charming me to dream of love past my reach.

With Zephyr’s spell I dreamt so deep and well, 
Of that lost love missed—I shan’t ever tell!  

Zephyr’s wind touches and warms well my face,
As I sigh and look on in endless space.

Walking home Zephyr’s Magic I feel more,
Enchanting me ‘til I walked thru the door!

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
(May 6, 2015) (Heroic Couplet)

*Originally released in my new book on February 15, 2015.

Saint Blackheart

Saint Blackheart walks the Autumn streets and smiles with diamond eyes;
   She's well-aware of what you think, but listens to your lies.
Confess your deepest fantasies or never look her way --
   She's free with random kindness, though she won't have much to say.

Saint Blackheart seeks the shadows for the secrets they impart.
   Her life's a patchwork puzzle made with jagged shards of art --
Impressionistic paintings on a canvas dipped in red;
   She dances like a demon for the angels in her head.

Saint Blackheart loves the twilight and the elemental rain;
   She'll stand and watch you suffer, yet she senses all your pain.
A soft, Franciscan echo making up a primal scream
   Can hurtle from her crimson lips and dart from dream to dream.

Saint Blackheart lives in solitude among the ancient trees --
   You'll find her there within the mist, but never on her knees.
Her hands will offer nothing which is not her own to give;
   And though you wish to die in peace, she may just let you live.

Saint Blackheart will not weep with you or wipe away your tears,
   Yet she may catch their crystal hue and treasure it for years.
She'll lay a little flower on a long-forgotten grave --
   A tribute to the tortured soul she never tried to save.

I Hate To Admit It

~ Inspired by the likes of Hoplessly Devoted to You ~

The reflection of your beauty are shadows on the wall,
The abstract of your spirit is still standing in the hall,
I know I am a victim of this ghostly fantasy,
I hate to admit it, but your love is haunting me.

I hate to admit it, but you appear wherever I go,
I can't fight the feeling as the magic begins to grow,
The thrill of believing brings a scary urgency,
I hate to admit it, but your love is haunting me.

As I lie here not sleeping somewhere deep in the night,
Your whisper of desire brings a passion of fright,
I can't go on believing as the spirits above agree,
I hate to admit it, but your love is haunting me.

I hate to admit it, but life is running late,
What love has to offer will die throughout the wait,
I must find a way to break this broken heart free,
I hate to admit it, but your love is haunting me.

Featured: 5/29/2016

Written: 5/22/2016
Type: Heroic Couplets
Contest: Grens Evergreens (Golden Oldies) 3
Contest Sponsor: Teppo Gren
Placement:2nd Place
© Jesse Day  Create an image from this poem.

Abomination

ABOMINATION

Abomination is my name.
There is no passion I've not felt.
Yearning pens attempt at fame
Dare each relationship to melt.

There is no struggle that I scorn.
There is no flame without scorched taste.
When blaze-bloom fires are born--
My inner soul consumes the waste.

Now , Sweet-- bamboozle me with joy.
Affection tender has its place.
Love's tempting comforts, please employ--
Make me cherish your sweet face.



V. Anderson-Throop

We Sisters Three

We sisters three
Do so decree
That these men
Know their sin.

Reaz, you mortal Fool
Illy was your sacred Jewel.
How could you endlessly cheat 
And lead her on with such deceit?

We sisters three
Do so eloquently decree
That these foolish men
Never ever hurt again.

Lamar you are a lazy bum.
To crack you always succumb.
Leerie was a wonderful wife
Yet, your words wound like a knife.

We sisters three 
Do so powerfully decree
That these thoughtless men
Feel agonizing pain within.

Daniel the monster you are
Never saw Kristy as a star.
She was just someone to beat
Whenever you felt other defeat,

We sisters three
Do so expressly decree
These imprudent mortal fools
Learn a new set of rules.

We rhythmically dance and sway
While words of ancient knowledge do play
Powerfully upon our very lips
During the Lunar Eclipse.

Our wish we do so prayerfully want
Your dreams we shall constantly haunt
Until you learn that your evil deeds
Will never ever fruitfully succeed.

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