Best Hewed Poems
When sea gods invisibly show their glory
They’re escorted by their elusive sea army;
Vow before them, their loud rhapsodic chords play,
As heard in light of blue waves on summer day.
Marvelous army with mighty spiral swords
Hewed by sea gods, their magnificence- behold!
Their trimmed trident’s tines conjure like somersault,
Wish I'm sea god’s knight to ride on them and joust.
Coastal birds herald their rare presence with glee
With ineffable joy, breeze hums sweet ditty;
Surfs break in applause beneath the granite cliffs
As splendid narwhals’ display… nature breaths…sniffs~
Narwhals are great sea god’s mighty unicorns,
They’re special sea army, prides of Poseidon!
Take your halcyon moment, have your blissful jaunt
Explore the northern hills and rivers, their helix flaunts
From zigzag paths of the south, from verdant plains of the north
Passing by the west coasts, ascend to their conjuring heart fort
Set off now and tread down to a cobblestone avenue
With joyful wagon ride, gaze the Heritage City’s stunning view
Spanish buildings in hedge, hewed by the greatest history
Of a beautiful country called, The Pearl of the Orient Sea
Museums in slumber, sing the spirit of heartwarming hospitality
Preserving the priceless antiques, ancestors’ unique creativity
Well-crafted on Spanish Colonization, cherish in golden memory
The country’s Great Forefathers, their true heroism and bravery
At the heart of a city gloriously stands the city’s cathedral
In front stretched a dancing fountain embraced by a lover’s park
With conservative Maria Clara style, stroll with Jose, your pal
And taste the most delicious delicacies from morning ‘til dark
A hammock that rocks you to the enchantment of the past
With indelible imprints of rich cultural heritage in relentless lush
Visit this reigning beauty, your rewarding experiences enfold
Vigan City hailed as one of Top Seven Wonder Cities of the World
Copyright 2014 Leonora Galinta
All Rights Reserved
-Sharing with you an old poem of mine.
I spent some of my childhood years here. My parents sent me in this place to study. It’s one of the most wonderful places and one of my most favourite hometowns:))
MUSTANGS
The ground shudders, and shakes,
Under pounding hooves.
Echoing against canyon walls.
Fast and furious wild hearts beat,
Keeping equal pace, with the prairies,
Wide divide.
From within hell's fiery furnace,
Tempered muscle drives motions sinew.
Behold evolution's die hard breed,
Built for no other purpose except,
Excessive Speed.
Racing along at razors edge,
Accelerating testing endurance's,
Brute strength.
Mustangs roam god's vast expanse,
Deserts devils burning blazing trails.
Encounters ghostly figures, dwelling amongst,
Forbidden territories reservations.
Dust clouds shadow creatures alluding,
Humanities intensive detection.
Harnessing destiny's forgotten beasts,
Freedom's native horses challenging,
Limitless domain.
Blackened pitch melting seamlessly,
Mixing with hewed grays.
Heaven's canvas erupts.
Storms rage splits lightening’s,
Aftershock,
Herding horse flesh towards,
Maximum Resolution.
Divine specters haunting thunders,
boarder lands, slick footed range warriors.
Traveling hidden roads ancient paths.
Natures raw power hardens brutalities
Magnificence.
Rival Arabians fight to prove dominates.
One lone stallion stands, dark bristling mane,
Brushed by evenings cooling breeze.
The leader takes cliffs highest plateau.
As silences experienced guardian,
He watches cautiously.
Resting at sunsets twilight hour,
Quenching thirsts, unyielding desires.
Next to waters crystal streams they ease.
Gently relieving tension's strains
Beside one another.
Comforts unity beneath reflective,
Moonlight's softness.
Mares and colts whinny in graduates,
Thanks.
Soon it shall come upon them,
Once more.
Dawn's rays cross horizons palette,
Under universal skies.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Tonight tears hewed
Flowing into a vaso of wine
Over rainbows
Dreams get lost
Lovers fade
True friends rare
I miss the ones
Who traveled far
Crawling
Out from crowds
White rose's of mystery
Alone my smile hides
Lost desires
If only
A tear could be shared
Between two
I sit quietly, while I belittle a storm
That’s been brewing for some time.
It crashes in a drunken rage,
And mellows out into the softening wind
That is the next day.
Shortly hereafter
It begins anew.
A fresh theater,
And a fresh view.
Feels good to end each day,
In the light of a drunken haze.
A storm brews on the horizon,
Fresh, and oh so new;
Beautiful neglect, yet…
I love it oh so true.
Chaos and disorder rings in new,
A sown hatred I drew
Oh no, what to do?
Don’t care or give a ****,
“Stop your crying you *****…
You’re making me sick.
Calm down and take a sip,
And puff a little on this.”
Undereducated and too true;
So weak, and oh so new.
Too young and too stupid…
I pity you.
Toughen up and get through;
Its life, it’s here to wear on you,
Not cuddle and be a fool.
Now listen here,
A shot and some weed to make it true;
Vindictive and shortly rude,
Mixed apathy… I forget you.
Driven white lines chopped and hewed;
A little coke to go with this brew.
It’s part of the fun…
You followed through.”
Each day a storm brews,
Cold and mellow;
Yet it’s made to do.
I live with it,
And I love it.
Messing with dangerous memories,
Blacked out and confused…
Just grab the bottle
And follow through.
You learn to live,
Than learn to lose.
You find religion;
Or some drug use.
Drown in sorrow,
Than get numb on due.
Shaded light that is the dawning flow;
But you see and just won’t go.
I love the end of everyday;
The dimming blue,
Found in my drunken haze.
green door stands slightly ajar,
come with me, enter here,
light the yellow candle, ah,
come sweetly closer near,
fill me with your amber light,
and draw me closer yet tonight,
till i can feel your heartbeat,
our passion to be Seer,
the rough hewed planks,
splashed wax, give thanks,
a mental place is here,
behind the door,
meditative sure,
but real as,
it's sincere...
loves ya babe....Don
the green door speaks,
the hinges squeak,
candle large of yellow streaks,
of black smoke oil of dreams,
do enter there, my beauty rare,
to see me enter yeah,
the rough hewed table seems,
to resurrect the scene,
and love is in between,
the table and the chairs,
a shelter so serene...
Don
This Green door place is inner space,
A darkened room of dreams,
A place an state to meditate ,
To focus mind, to see,
Be in another time an place,
Where thoughts an dreams can be,
A mental time surreal in space,
Across the mystic sea
They Left so Abruptly
(for the countless South Africans, of all colours, who dedicated their lives for freedom and democracy)
the valiant ones
countless
many known
many more nameless
the truest sons and singers
husbands and poets
lovers and wives
daughters and farmers
workers and sisters
brothers and friends
they left so abruptly
with quiet pride
steely courage
gentle dignity
they left so abruptly
leaving us our tomorrows
brighter
hopeful
filled with promise
they left so abruptly
so that we may breathe
the breath of liberty
the air of freedom
the warmth of justice
they left so abruptly
leaving with us their parting gift
freedom
inkululeko
swatantrata
liberte
azadi
vhudilangi
libertad
they left so abruptly
yet we remember them all
today
in the days that slipped away
and in the many more that we await
they left so abruptly
yet they remain
hewed into our memories
etched in our consciences
engraved in our hearts
they left so abruptly
and yet they endure
with us
within us
now and forever more
THE SNOW FLAKE
What happens to angels tears, as they fall from the
Heaven above, into diamonds of ice so are they
Transformed, turning, spinning in the atmosphere.
Until unique unto themselves, white pieces of
Frozen lace, perfections icy miracle, descending
From the blue hewed skies of Nirvana.
Covering the last leaf of fall, one by one
The power flakes glisten beneath the October sunshine.
Crystal shells of ice, freeze into water cylinders,
Forming sickles of decorations, that hang from
Every house and tree.
It is truly a winder wonderland, so beautiful
That the angels themselves come to behold,
What their teardrops have made, as a single
Feather falls from wings of grace, it to turns
To ice, and is blanketed beneath the freshly fallen snow.
08-04-2014
Ravaged and ruined
and shattered to dust
by slippery coercion
bedded in lust
Ah tis the fate of faith that gives trust
in gospels hewed in tarnish and rust
Be wise then...
let patience give heed
to the compass which points
to the wait and see
Pray not for me
you liar and thief!
I worship the one who comforts me
the strength of my hands
the power on my knees
You, you know, you are nothing to me!
From the dust I have risen
many a time
And by his mercy been given
faith wrought in the fire
the truth in which a heart is defined
One never mended for every blow
nor expectation disguised
To trust in the love of a lie is a low
and the cost of the error too high
My soul has died a thousand deaths
each resurrection surpasses with deft
The promised walks never taken
but for the ones in the shadows of death
For now my soul remains in quiet
dull embers of hope for the madness
biding the time till my heart submits
then trading for beauty these ashes
Harsh winds blow from a baron frozen land,
Of ice and snow.
Exhaling Nordic gods breath a chilling mist
An eerie foggy vapor creeping along the
Waters aquatic edge.
Rages angry seas lap against the wooden
Hauls as battle harden men brace for impact
Waves crack tarring asunder splinters oaken shell.
Yet these Icelandic warriors laugh at death,
Savoring it's flavor, and relishing their own bloods
Taste upon salted lips.
The devils seed lives within them, these
Barbaric conquerors known to history as the vikings
By Thor’s mighty hammer does strike thus,
Against the anvils rough hewed edge.
Sparks fly igniting thunder and lightening below
Splitting apart the very heaven's themselves,
Odin exposes a distant horizons far off shore.
Hear the oarsmen drumming, a pounding,
It's hastening beat the inner heart of this vessel
Foretelling hells army will soon arrive,
At early morning highest tide.
Whom shall stand after this storm hits land fall.
The sword unsheathed will take vengeance fill
With it's blade dipped an ink well of blood.
No treaty signed can stop history's mighty wrath
Feel hot Norse breath upon your neck oh roman.
Seek thy brothers kinsman’s council for
Safety’s sake alone.
Fears children hide beneath a gray cloak of innocence.
Illusions shelter of falsehoods arrogance delusion,
Believing the walls of roman shall never fall.
A dark shadow is cast over thy world of glittering
Gold a plunders treasure chest a shinning example
For glistening ripening to fill ill gotten
Gains empty hauls.
What price to pay for lies deceit, it's brilliance
Calls forth a trumpeting, a sounding for
Deaths comforting.
Valhalla gates open wide, to welcome
Vanquished heroes unto the neither world.
While Romanian drink deeply from deaconesses
Bloody cup.
The Vikings sing a victory song and voyage on
And Odin smile down upon his people
With pride's honor restored.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Assailed upon all sides; trapped, like a rat without his cheese.
Though I wore quite fancy shoes, there were no socks upon my feet,
When I fought the heathens and, met defeat, at the Pillar Of Muhamete.
Through a wall of living flesh I hacked; my trusty hatchet, my only tool.
On a bloody muddy Monday morning, before the Temple of Kabul.
Great green spiders big as tanks, did we ride to meet enemy ranks,
And the sky was the hue of lemons, as we made war on the Plains of Singahlee.
When the cannons melted, I said "chuck it", then with a broomstick and a bucket,
Did I storm the castle of the Great Caliph. With a cabin boy creeping , at my knee.
With a lantern strapped to my head, I broached the tower gate to set the captives free!
When it seemed our lines would crack, I urged the regiment to the attack;
Our war wagons pulled by eight foot frogs, imported from the gates of hell.
When bullets ran low, we threw rocks; til at last we waved our members.
To show ourselves unafraid, we stipped to aprons our mums had made,
Then went raging down the hillsides, with a shrieking girlish yell.
One Bullock Pete he died that day; Big Dick Willie; hewed in twain in the fray.
But the blue balls boys of Bingham held the line! The blood flowed like cheap wine.
Smoke and screams filled the air, like cheap perfume in a whore's lair.
Amidst the fire and the smoke, I did a softshoe and told a joke.
And an old vaudeville routine nearly saved the day on that battlefield afar.
We ran like possums through the trees, In our boots and BVDs.
We may have lost the bloody battle, but we won the flipping war!
WORLDS AND WORLDS OF TIME AGO AND BEFORE
IN EONS AND EONS OF MOMENTS OF LIVES
HAVE INHABITED, ON AND IN WORLDS OF WORLDS AROUND,
RESIDED IN WORLDS OF SEAS IN EMBRYONIC STATE
COMPLETED AND VIED WITH CRUSTACEOUS OBSCURITIES
DID DINE AND WAS CONSUMED IN BONELESS APPETITIVE ZEST
ROMPED AND CAJOLED AT PALAELITHICAL STAGES
ABIDED WITH THE GODS IN SPACES OF YORE
AND SOARED AS ETHEREAL BEING'S WITH WINGS OF ETHER
DONNED SUITS OF ROBOTIC CLOAKS OF ARMOUR
SURVIVED ELECTRICAL BARRAGES OF PERSECUTING CONTROL
DELVED IN SUBTERRANEAN HEWED CAVERNOUS CHAMBERS
AS ASTUTE EGOISTICAL TERRIFIED SCIOPHOBICAL MORTALS
TRUDGED VAST GLACIAL AND TURBULENT TORRID MORIBUND PLACES
COPULATED WITH ABORIGINAL NATURED SOULS
ROMPED WITH FREE ABANDON O'ER ALPINE HEIGHTS
THOUGHT POSTULATED, THOUGHT MADE ALL POSSIBLE
LONG BEFORE THIS WORLD WAS CREATED, I WAS.
The old ruin sat near the brow of the hill
it had been there for centuries forgotten
none now knew for what purpose it had been used
not even the elders who had many suggestions
A not unattractive looking building of stone
and that in it's self only added to the mystery
for these stones were not locally quarried
the nearest place being over 170 miles away
Yet here they had been dragged, then hewed
wrestling them into place quite some task
an imposing building nestled in the hillside
and the views surrounding it post card perfect
Inside was airy and light with most of the roof gone
a strange hearth in the corner of the main hall
large enough for a man to walk into upright
Bread ovens built into the walls and a sitting niche
This was all that was left apart from one roofed room
in here it was dry and warm even a single trundle bed
admittedly very rockety but still it was usable
I decided to camp out the following night, it would be fun
The following evening I climbed the hill as the sun set
tonight it would be a full moon, already the air chilling
I settled in with my few belongings and lit the fire
soon it was roaring, with crackles, hissing and spitting
It was a fine clear night and the heat wonderful
so I made up a bracken bed in front of the fire
I laid back enjoying the stars and a comet shooting past
lazily I slipped not realising into a strange sleep
I found the building restored though it's use still not clear
only a long table and chairs in here, beds in the rooms leading off
then a man came into view, he did not seem to notice me as he passed
he stirred the pot cooking on the fire and set the table
Soon more men came in and sat down to enjoy a hearty meal
I realised from their armour that these were soldiers
so the ram-shackled ruin had once been a lookout post
I woke in the morning well rested remembering my dream
As I walked back down the hill I looked back at it
drenched in sunshine it seemed to gleam a wisp of smoke
curling up from the chimney it looked as if once more alive
not an old forgotten ruin moulding slowly into the landscape
I used the word ram-shackled recently and it struck me as a good theme
for a poem so I wrote this.
THE PROMISE...
Been said and is always true;
the truth knocked down
and crushed to the ground
will always rise again and again:
so must we---now.
No longer in these times that try
our souls, can we be
like hewed portions of humanity
laying along a mildewy path of progress.
Get up Brotha! Get up Sistha!
It's today---not tomorrow
that awaits our rising...
We are but mere tasters of the milk and honey;
let us not forget the pursuit of the source.
It's not for us to yet seat ourselves at the banquet table;
but to labor on---struggling and preparing the feast table
for generations who are yet to come to fullness of the promise:
The moving cloud---having moved---continues beyond
the mountain top---to hover above the fertile valley below;
and we are destined to receive that which He's promised to bestow.