Best Highwaymen Poems
Gasping
rasping
clasping
grasping
condemned man's last gasping, rasping breath,
hands on the noose clasping, grasping- death
(* Tyburn was the site of public hangings in London from the 12th century,
executing everyone from Highwaymen to Clergymen, at what is now Marble Arch)
For contest 'write me a Tyburn', sponsor Kim Rodrigues
24th january 2018
Categories:
highwaymen, death,
Form:
Tyburn
The Highwaymen softly play
Me And Bobby Magee
And for the next four hours
Every single drink is free.
Order what you like friend
And stick it on the slate
Tonight we’re saying goodbye
To my best and oldest mate.
On the bar in isolation stands
The Absent Friend’s Drink,
At the end of the night to be
Quickly poured down the sink.
Like every other human being
He was good and bad in parts
A fact that becomes apparent
When the reminiscing starts.
A man of strong opinions
Which he carried to the end
And we didn’t always agree
Me and this good old friend.
It was a friendship of honesty
We didn’t tell each other lies
We just agreed to differ and
Each learned to compromise.
From teenaged Squaddies
To men of retirement age
We remained mates through
Every changing life stage.
Strong willed, as often
Wrong as he was right
He never ever conceded
Without a spirited fight.
A mam of surprises
A man seemingly apart
But not far below the surface
One of good and kind heart.
The free bar has closed
Heaven knows how big the slate
But we gave a fitting farewell
To my much missed old mate.
I’ve drunk so many pints as
This night draws to its end
But I’m stone cold sober
As I think of my old friend
The Absent Friend’s Drink
Has been quietly poured away
Marking the official end of this
His wake and funeral day.
The music’s switched off.
Now just a big empty room
That, to quote the apt saying
Is almost silent as a tomb.
One last look around to check
Then they switch off the light
And tired staff follow us out
Into the darkness of the night.
Categories:
highwaymen, friendship, funeral, goodbye, tribute,
Form:
Rhyme
Continued from Part 1
The orphans and widows lean into the breeze
watching horrified hangmen descend to their knees
for the angel of mercy’s no longer inclined
to forgive vengeful phantoms (oh Furies of night!) ,
I’ll not leave you behind.
The bandits are brazen, the highwaymen lurk,
some imbibing dark brews of a hag’s handiwork,
mostly gulping from goblets like goblins maligned.
Woman! Widen your wings, catching wisps of the wind
I’ll not leave you behind.
The lepers laugh, leaping from tombstones of steel
chasing rollaway caskets on luminous wheels;
while their shadows shake, shrouded, twixt trees intertwined,
twisted time melts at midnight, take hold of my hand,
I’ll not leave you behind.
The gremlins grope, grinning face down in the dust,
while the sprites and the pixies are watching nonplussed.
They sling bolted arrows at spectres enshrined
within winds somewhat flustered, just fly from your fears
I’ll not leave you behind.
The tattered toy teddies and raggedy Anns
have escaped to the skyways in kid caravans
but now, spellbound by fancies, know not that they’ll find
their parade’s evanesced into echoes of dawn –
I’ll not leave you behind.
The wind’s my enchantress, beguiles and commands
me to search for my fortune in faraway lands
and whispers her mysteries of passions entwined,
for the wind is Isolde – unfurling my sails
I’ll not leave you behind.
End
Categories:
highwaymen, fantasy, love,
Form:
Rhyme
The Pirates
Pirates were around in the 16th century, they flew the
Jolly Roger/Scull & Crossbones and would loot and pillage
Ships at sea, for their rich cargo and gold doubloons
Over the years they have moved to land in guises as
Highwaymen and bushrangers, outlaws that steal money
As well as gold and defy the law. In modern times the
Pirate has become an even bigger threat to the film and
Music industry by bootlegging copies on videotape and
Disks, robbing performers and actors of their rightful
Royalties. Now in the days of the Internet, the pirate or
Modern day version known as a scammer, creates
All sorts of evil ways to attain money on hoax activities
Dating sites and social networking even through networks
With items for sale. Yes hoaxes and scams make up about
Seventy percent of Internet activities, which goes
Unpoliced, with people losing large ammounts of money
To these unscroupulous people every day. Can they be
Stopped? The answer is a mystery, as the world is losing
It's innocence to unstoppable theives we call pirates.
Categories:
highwaymen, social,
Form:
Narrative
A life four score and five short years
Of tender hearts and happy tears
Memories of yesteryear he's crafted into song
Each album paved , a stepping stone
The craftsmanship shaped a happy home
The Wordsmiths scribed a worthy tome, the faithfulnsingbalonf
A Texas sta, a fuiding light
For those of us who shine less bright
Golden Glovesstill raised in fight, defend the underdog
Magdalas lights a distant shore
Will call in vain forever more
The sea calls sailors to endure the coldly blinding fog
Though freedoms out there, there's a fee
For freedoms never ever free
A marriage, pride, a family, a life cut to the bone
An outlaw heart, a faith sublime
A hundred years born outta time
Four riders, outlaws, highwaymen no longer ride alone
In a world devoid of sanity
At the risk of vile profanity
The echoes of humanity, resound in every cry
Like Lewis and Clarke you blazed a trail
For every mile fought tooth and nail
Your quest, your prize, your Holy grail, your Cowboys lullaby
Through leaner years a hungry heart
Each written line's a work of art
Your Devils now, made to depart, no longer do you wrong
To dream a dream,then see it through
Marks the man we see in you
No epitaph of black & blue, you're right where you belong
Categories:
highwaymen, appreciation, growth, guitar, heart,
Form:
Lyric
LIFES’ ROAD HOGS
You’ll find them on the highways and all along life’s' byways
And they refuse to see they’re the cause of all the problems
They ride along the fast lane and make you feel the villain
An In the end the good man feels he’s just a silly fellow
These highwaymen who race along life's' crowded byways
Say to the world of happy men you’d better do it my way
They honk, they grunt and pass the weak and very timid
And make you feel you’re the one who's messing up the limit
They have no goal or vision or sense of real direction
Yet in their minds they dare feel like men of real discretion
A cursing here and shouting there to do what needs be done
Who would dare to show them up, their critics are just none
Expect today as you walk along life's’ busy ruthless byway
To meet these evil men who say you’d better do it my way
But don't despair or give in and let them have the pleasure
Of robbing you a simple man of your inward beauty treasure
Take note of what they say to you or let them even pass you
But don't give in to these evil men or let them undermine you
Let them race with headstrong speed on life's busy highway
Remember this they’ll hear you say I let you do it your way
Categories:
highwaymen, abuse, anxiety, christian, community,
Form:
Rhyme
cold wars
and silvery spoons
make me solemn
in the self-closing eyes
always priggish
as a desolate diver
I blindly follow
the northbound shoals
hoarse in the black iris
I'm a tipsy toad
howling in heaven
with frigid manners
resurrected again
in a parquet parlour
of colliding sighs
the highland highwaymen
set up bonfires
in instinctive phobia
of the uninvited mirage
rural gravestones
salute the lightning
with tremendous pride
still frivolous
over the glum expressions
during prohibition
I smile with a frown
when my chapped lips
touch salty chips
into exile
to shock, to astound
Categories:
highwaymen, dream, imagery, surreal,
Form:
Free verse
Painting by the Florida Highwaymen
Take me home to where joy resides. I am most thankfuL
Here. My gifts bestowed by God are strewn like confettI
Around me! The salty breeze is like a warm blankeT
Nurturing my soul as silver stars are draped each NighT.
Kaleidoscopes of color reflected on each sea swelL
Shimmer and splash as a summer moon pulls the tidE.
Feathers of burrowing owls quietly grace my sighT
On my walks as a Royal Poinciana blooms regally near my patH.
Rivers flow like freedom to the sea and tall grass sways. I
Take a moment to watch my children play, and I soar IN
Highest praise to the Creator. He has given me an awakeninG
Enveloped in life, love and His glorious grace for all my dayS.
Written 6/22/20
for Thanks Acrostic Contest
Sponsor - Beata Agustin
Categories:
highwaymen, faith, nature, thanks,
Form:
Acrostic
The pen is greater than the sword or so it’s often said.
A poet’s word still stirs the heart long after he is dead.
The "Elegy" of Thomas Gray can still provoke a thought.
And Campbell’s "Ullin’s Daughter" proves that anger gains you nought.
What of the tales of Highwaymen that Alfred Noyes wrote,
We all felt sorry for the man with lace bunched at his throat.
Omar Khayyam’s finger writes and having writ moves on.
But still his clever verse delights long after he has gone.
Why is it John Clare’s "Morning" or Tennyson’s "The Brook?."
When found in an anthology still make us stop to look.
Its true Maysfield’s "Sea Fever" will cause an inner ache.
In any landlocked seaman’s heart who’s seen a grey dawn break.
As Newbolt’s "Fighting Temeraire" will always last the distance.
Likewise will Marks Poem Code for the French Resistance.
Could we forget Keats’s "Gypsy Meg" with bed of brown heath turf,
or John Hays "The Enchanted Shirt" so full of subtle mirth
When Wordsworth’s "Golden Daffodils" herald in the spring.
Along with Housman’s "Cherry Tree" it makes your spirit sing.
Whilst Thomas Hardy’s "Darkling Thrush" when frost was spectre grey
captures for eternity a dying winters day
Kipling’s classic poem "If" sets rules for living by.
Whereas his "Undertakers Horse" reminds us that we die.
The beauty of the written verse out lives whoever wrote it,
So throughout the centuries' others oft will quote it.
The Poets fame will light a flame in hearts of all mankind.
When those who led great armies, long since are left behind.
So remember all who fight for right with gun and bomb and sword.
Your deeds are unrecorded until someone writes the word
Categories:
highwaymen, artheart, heart, daffodils,
Form:
Legend of Fosse Way
Riding hard under a moonlight high
not a leaf rustling and it troubles my mind
In the distance there's music of the lyre and flute
rippling over the moors
Serenading the stars
The voice of a maiden
bleeds it's way through the thick darkness
Singing an ole Bawdy Pub Song.
My steed swift at a gallop
hooves sound their click clack
As we cross Halford Bridge
No time to be wasted
seeking comfort at the Inn
History demands I deliver this message
The dispatch I carry holds the future of England
I must make Exeter Castle by dawn.
No matter the risk or danger I encounter
It is crucial that I press on
Two Queens vying for the throne of England
Not even God can decide which be the righteous one
Protestant or Catholic not the reason for choice
A Queen must have love for Mother England
coursing through her blood
Forrest fairies ring the bells on the Fox Glove
The Oaks without expression and still
A rare breeze slaps the sleeping grasses in the glades
In the marsh toads croak complaint to night’s chill
This road is dominion of Highwaymen and thieves
Robbing those that choose this way to travel.
By the will of God and the Bishop's blessing
I will pass undetected by scoundrels and rabble
Nourished only on bread and Brambleberries
Traveling in the cover of night taking sleep by day
All that I've seen are ghosts of Roman soldiers
On this thoroughfare known as Fosse Way
If by the hand of God or the Devil
I meet with an untimely death
And I am unable to tell tale of this ride
Let not my story meet the same fate
Say my name Nigel Foster be mentioned in yarns
told in pubs and taverns .
History will decide if I am a Patriot or Traitor
As a result of my actions
When the years pass into the future
Don't let me be a lost memory of yesterday
If by chance may I live on
as one of the many legends
The many legends of Fosse Way.
Inspired by Alfred Noyes poem “The Highwayman"
And in memory of my distant relative,
Robert Devereux 2nd Earl of Essex.
Judge Santiago Burdon
©2019
Categories:
highwaymen, england,
Form:
Ballad
Etched across unyielding flesh
One red line
Crimson tears wept
Upon linen fresh
Flitting steel
Lay two red lines
Side by side
Odious reminders of hope denied
Chaotic confusion hidden behind
Penniless pronouns
He, she, him or her
Artless words held by Cruelty's Captor
Three red lines
Blood stained highwaymen
Pilfering the soul
Of life once gained
Those nearby witness
Miserly motility shunning regard
A godless heart
You wait for them to cry?
Hand in hand they stand
Painfully they await
Father and mother together
Reflect upon your fate
Him, her, he or she
Penniless pronouns of an exhausted mind
"Their" life ended
By three red lines
Categories:
highwaymen, suicide,
Form:
Rhyme
" Shall I Ever Be Free"
Alas, my child you shan't!
Get used to a world of can't!
Our brains are fully scrubbed
Like kids in a foaming bath.
Rub-y-dee, rub-y-dee dub.
We've been 'brain-spanked' to
not ask any questions.
We don't dare question numbers!
Oh, no shush no!
Just be sure to have a brain
that totally slumbers.
The longer we hide, the bigger the
number that will die!
And the world left to benevolent, quite evil,
power mad dictators!
Whilst you are so grateful, being lonely,
eating humble pie and 'taters!
Each day Big Brother on TV you do watch!
Hoping like prisoners to be let out?
No, you won't be, unless you are in a state
run by sanity.
Very few that are willing to support your
humanity!
The flu has been with is for over one
hundred years.
We all survived, drank beer and shouted,
" Cheers!"
We now have become as trembling mice.
Follow orders and never think, thrice.
*Many poets here are aware of the spurious goings
on and political highwaymen stealing your liberties.
To those civivilially disobedient ~I lift a glass!
Thank you for your sunshine not buying into the
shadows of fear and tyranny. Bless you all!"
May 1, 2020
1:30pm PST
Categories:
highwaymen, conflict, encouraging, moving on,
Form:
Rhyme
Dedicated to the little group of Fort Pierce ,Florida artists who became known to
the public as The Highwaymen for their indomitable spirit.
Paint brush flashes a chill blue shine
to slice along the horizon line
flip the fronds of palms around
splash of azure,green and brown
Florida scenes under your nails
sand in socks and shoes and pails
easel strapped across your back
traipsing the unbeaten track
use your brush to teach the eye
strike the spectrum from the sky
dripping colors on the sand
washed away by nature's hand
like loose bits of colored glass
kaleidoscope,you're changing fast
open up your heart creative
to the land,the constant native
rolls the ocean through his soul
to the canvas and behold
he becomes a work of art
in the murals of his heart.
Categories:
highwaymen, art, black african american,
Form:
Couplet