Best Hilt Poems
There is an abysmal void in the hollow of my breast
where once my heart pulsed, now weak and weary.
I cannot quell emotions your death has repressed
since our cord of silken threads has come unraveled.
Malaise in my heart leaves me cold and dreary.
I long to embrace you on the doorstep of time,
never allowing it to deprive me of you again.
I ache for the warmth of your breath on my nape,
and inhale the virile scent of you that lingers.
From these cherished memories I seek no escape.
Chilled are my nights, even beside the fireside,
while reading romantic sonnets you wrote.
I can quote your verses, every line in verbatim
but the sound of my voice in an empty room
leaves me yearning for silence, death by garrote.
I swear I hear your steps over thresholds I cross.
Wisps of your hair remain in your bristled brush.
Your laughter seems to float upon the air,
and your footfalls tread upon the creaky stair
until I whisper, "It's not him. Hush, please hush."
Dear memory, how long shall you torture me?
Each reverie, a dagger thrust to its hilt in my heart.
Answer me, when shall I live a life of quiet repose?
How long shall I be haunted by the illusion,
of the man who vowed we would never part?
Timid is my approach to the room's tenebrous corner.
With his vestige close, I cling to him in the night.
Our shadows dance. In his arms, I'm swept away.
With each swaying step his presence I garner,
as we waltz across the room in the glow of moonlight.
November 26, 2022
2022 Poetry Marathon ~ Mile 21 Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney
Categories:
hilt, lost love,
Form:
Rhyme
She hid the pain behind a smile
as she walked slowly down the aisle.
Her doubts she struggled to restrain
behind a smile she hid the pain.
Their chosen song the organ played,
She looked divine in gold brocade
a veil to match trailing along.
The organ played their chosen song.
Of jasmine scent a whiff she caught
to mind a picture swiftly brought
a one-night stand in secret spent.
A whiff she caught of jasmine scent.
She felt impaled by sword of guilt
that entered deep down to the hilt.
No breaths of healing were inhaled.
By sword of guilt she felt impaled.
She needed time to clear her mind
erase the present, press rewind
bring back the lustre, wash the grime
to clear her mind she needed time.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The film’s on ‘pause’. My fingers itch
to watch the rest, flick on the switch…
Will it be tears or loud applause!!
My fingers itch. The film’s on ‘pause’.
-----------------------------------------
This poem has been published in a PoetrySoup Anthology:
“Reflections on the Important Things” Nov 2023 (print)
Swap Quatrain Contest
Hosted by Emile Pinet
Placed 4th
4th October, 2022
Categories:
hilt, betrayal, heartbreak,
Form:
Quatrain
Was it a sheer accident that I became a poet?
Poetry, I didn’t pursue, rather it cropped up
As a late-night guest, quite unexpected.
A teacher’s career, I have been bent upon
And prefer to be known more as a teacher than a poet.
In my eyes, teachers are a venerable sort,
Happy that I could belong to that ‘special’ lot,
Instilling in young ones - newer insights gleaned,
Enriching their lives - with atoms of knowledge pooled,
Brightening their paths - with millions of lanterns lit,
Rowing them away - from the perilous shoals of life,
And leading them to be anchored on safer shores!
A teacher sure stands taller above,
Every other mortal who serves!!
Numerous are the guise a teacher has to put on,
And cleverer the tricks she has to play,
To tackle the wards in her all-out care,
And launch them out into a world to fare.
I have played all at once myriad roles,
More of a mentor and not just a tutor,
A physician who heals, a nurse who tends,
A parent who cares or a pal who shares,
A patron who supports or a lawyer who argues,
A scholar who learns and a master who trains.
As Christ taught his disciples - with parables many,
As Socrates instructed the youth - through endless queries,
As Sullivan led Keller - to the new dawn of light,
As Aesop enlightened kids - with countless tales,
I strove to be a TEACHER.
An erudite soul with a mission!
A sculptor who sees an angel, veiled within a rock!
An architect building an edifice to last a lifetime!
A warrior uncompromising in war,
On Ignorance – the most ignoble foe!
I don’t know where I presently stand,
Nor do I know how my students would rate me,
Though often floundered or failed to act,
In the manner I ever so longed to do,
I would rather be a TEACHER all my life,
A ‘guru’ out and out, from hilt to heel.
And I would wear that mantle with pride!
Categories:
hilt, destiny, inspirational, passion,
Form:
Free verse
On the black stallion of death,
Its red crimson eyes pierce through the night,
And the hell's beast breathes its hot brazen breath
Blazing against the darkness's chilling air!
Does he ride, this phantom of the dead,
Wielding vengeance's sword.
With one hand on the hilt of the blade,
The other arm reaching outwardly,
One finger pointing at his intended victim!
Screaming with a blood curdling howl,
Give me your head vermin, or I'll cut
It off myself, than laughing at their fear!
Beneath crimson fire moon, this hooded and caped,
Death's stalker, hunts down the innocent
Taking that which he desires the most
Their essence of life!
Run to the bridge's safety salvation lies
At the other end beyond.
For these waters cleansing baptism,
Could swallow him whole.
The headless horsemen cannot cross,
These blessed waves of sanctuary,
Or banished is he, hell bound for eternity.
This highway man, rides devastation’s
By ways, of the unknown.
Seeking to restore mind and body,
This Hessian with aggression,
Yearns for justices revenge, to what
Ends bequeath, he cares not, the price
To be paid, in human flesh and blood.
On Saint Hollows Eve, the horsemen
Gallops, across dead-man’s boundary,
Awaiting the stray trespasser, to trip into
His well-hidden trap.
Than striking without mercy's sake,
With its sharpened edge, steel slices
The mortal flesh, taking his prize,
The headless horseman rides away
Into the night.
Yelling, I'll return next Hollows Eve, be thee
So warned, for your salivations sake alone,
Don't tread in Sleepy Hollow after dark!.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Categories:
hilt, adventure, dark, evil, halloween,
Form:
Free verse
It’s been many years since I’d climbed the wooden steps to my parent’s attic. The hinges of the trap door creak and a cloud of dust rises as I push the door open. I fumble for the light switch; it takes several minutes for the dust to settle and for my eyes to become accustomed to the gloom from the single bulb.
I survey the small space, which is packed to the hilt with hidden treasures. I sit cross-legged in a cramped corner and delve one of the many boxes.
relics of childhood
packed in old cardboard boxes
I find my old bear
My mother had carefully packed away many of my old toys and keepsakes from my schooldays and high days and holidays. Oh how I laughed when I read some of the comments on my school reports and workbooks, it made for very amusing reading! I get quite emotional when I sort through photograph albums and see the faces of those who are no longer with us.
cherished memories
as I leaf through the pages
I wipe away tears
After several hours reminiscing I’ve selected a couple of items, which were once so dear to me; and then I finally close the door on the past.
Picture 3
Photostory Contest
Sponsored by Eve Roper
11-15-17
Categories:
hilt, childhood, memory, moving on,
Form:
Haibun
Friends?
Are we still friends?
Can we JUST be friends?!?
Oh such a horrid, charity-stained question!
What a keen and salient dagger it wields!
The pity that you wear like black lace finery,
Is as deadly and whetted a sword as any raised in battle ...
The patronizing look in your eyes presses on its hilt
With the agonizing weight of feigned cordiality,
To pierce the tender flesh of my hopes,
Deep and quick and precise.
Why ... why this last dose of bitter passion??
To ease your careless conscience?
All you've done is make the blade more jagged,
The wound more brutal and raw.
Now here I lay ...
Exhausted in spirit and sinews,
By what I now realize was lovemaking for clemency's sake ...
One last, tender moment to minimize the blow.
Shards of moonlight through the louvers,
Lay like broken pieces of porcelain on furrowed bedclothes,
As my passions bleed out at your feet,
Draining my heart of the realities
Of what I thought we had ...
What might have been, beyond friendship.
My love for you collects in a puddle of one-sided regrets,
And now this dreadful question makes all a travesty,
A mocking, cruel, pitiful farce ...
No, my love, I can NEVER be just ... your friend.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "My Friend, My Love" Poetry Contest, Julie Leigh Rodeheaver, Judge & Sponsor.
Categories:
hilt, heartbreak, love, love hurts,
Form:
Free verse
The cinnamon scented days
in your grandiose porcelain cups,
as you would like to say,
in grass green warmth of May
of the sandal wood shadow
in your valley
made of three warm words from starry dark,
alongside the moon-circles
It is lovely
A rose dance
In a tipsy trance
A blue Greece peace
descending downward
Shivering moon ice
And Amazon warmth
From mouth to mouth
“Go slow go slow “
Calls the lark
from moon-snow
“Go slow”
Why the distraction?
In the lovely job of translation
from fire to ice
Slice by slice
Dropping all disguise
Into a stupendously charming reality
Of collapsing charm
Then, all on a sudden
Why the reaction
Of sudden interruption?
The lark asks
“Look above
Visit the cascade first
The temples, the galloping horses
The beautiful bird-neck
And the awesome hills”
The cream coloured shaft of sky
beteen the two tension to the hilt
Maddeningly failing
Into freedom of the flood
Tumultuous silence ...
And he felt the soft palm on his forehead
He came to
It was the nurse
By his hospital bed
‘Yes ?'
‘Sir, you have to ....'
'The chemotherapy?'
'Yes Sir'
A gentle smile on her face
A sandal wood shade
Of a different kind though
And ice slabs
In almost absolute temperature
_________________________________________________________
20/01/2017
Categories:
hilt, death, desire, dream, emotions,
Form:
Free verse
my brittle bones are like this fence, so built
on throes of horrors shrouded with the hilt
of war's inanely senseless blade, now dulled
by all the precious souls its edge has culled …
now ages gone, those boys amid their dreams
and yet the air still trembles with their screams
so daubed in bleeding sun, how death imparts
these fields of poppy roods and purple hearts.
~ For Lt Col John McCrae, and all life lost to war ~
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Purple 2" Poetry Contest, Kevin Shaw, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Contest 545 Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
(In honor of the poem by Lt Col John McCrae, and all lives given to war).
Categories:
hilt, history, loss, war,
Form:
Rhyme
A top the verdant mountains of nirvana,
A most limitless effulgent radiance
Across azure sky, spilled crimson horizon;
a morning sunlight.
A knight stands, his hand gripping the swords white hilt,
His black tunic and cloak flapping in the wind.
The swords crescent hilt curved from a dragon's tooth,
he'd named, Dragon's Tooth.
He breathed in the aroma of petrichor.
He desired to see the dragons fly once more
Their large outstretched wings weaving between the clouds,
wild as black night silk.
Dragons roaring with the loud clap of thunder
Coloring the night sky with a thousand stars.
He walked home gripping Dragon's Tooth at his side;
their existence gone.
7/19/2020
Sponsored By: William Kekaula
Contest Name: Your Best Sapphic Stanza
Categories:
hilt, fantasy,
Form:
Sapphic stanza
It Saw Me Through Such Dastardly Purblind Eyes
It saw me through such dastardly purblind eyes
Up there overhead with silent anger
What a truly ghastly, dangerous beast
On a morn with dazzling trapezoid skies
This heart could not bear to see its long paws
and that deathly stare that penetrated me
O' lord save me now, please come to my aid
I wept bitterly, slashed with those claws
My mind again said to me, be thee stout
Step back, grab your sharpened sword and cut
You can do it, kill this fierce, horrid beast
And as I swung, I said "die, with a shout"!
That sword plunged in fast and hilt deep.
Damn it, alarm clock rang, I woke from sleep.
Robert J, Lindley - Dark sonnet
Dec 6th, 1973
Categories:
hilt, dark, death, dream, evil,
Form:
Sonnet
Dragon found a Fairy Ring and quickly jumped inside! Heaven Forbid!
Dancing round and round, he suddenly disappeared. Yes! He surely did!
As he disappeared I knew that trouble would without doubt, now ensue.
So I blew out my breath, and immediately did the same, I’d seen him do.
As I landed, I followed the mob, knowing Dragon would be in demand.
Sure enough, there he stood with the great sword Excalibur, in his hand.
The future King Arthur was standing empty handed, looking kinda sad.
Merlin, however, not amused, started chasing Dragon and looking mad.
Without Arthur to pull the sword from the stone, Camelot wouldn’t be built.
You might say that Dragon was in deep doo doo, all the way up to the hilt.
Things progressed far worse, as Merlin shot crazy magic at Dragon’s face.
He missed Dragon… leaving ‘Sir Mouse a lot’, in Sir Lancelot’s place.
Dragon dodged a magic bolt, from Merlin, hitting Sir Gwain, like a mace.
Yep, if this kept up, the whole round table was about to end, without a trace.
So I jumped Merlin, bringing him to the ground, as I screamed at Dragon!
Put that blooming sword down!… As in: YEP! BACK IN THE STONE!!!
But by then I was changed to a frog, and a few croaks were the only sounds.
Old England had become the new Mayhem Falls, both alive and now found.
Suddenly, Grandpa Troll appeared, yanking the sword from Dragon’s hand.
Putting it back in the stone, he bowed to Merlin and all of his medieval land.
Next he grabbed Dragon by the ear, and me as I hopped across the ground.
We quickly made an exit… by use of the Fairy Ring, now so very profound.
Camelot’s problems, would no doubt, be from ‘Sir Mouse A Lot’s’ overload.
Imagine what might have been, if we’d never helped see, that day bestowed.
Would the world have been better? Would Camelot have longer survived?
We’ll never know. But the Moral is: Beware of Fairy Rings and Dragons!
For they can bring about the worlds end, as we know it, on any given day!
Camelot had that story put on a Tapestry along with Arthur’s great event.
He dutifully, also, pulled the sword from the stone… Yep… You might say…
For them it had become ‘A Great News Day!’ As I did ribbit and hop away!
Written by Carol Eastman 8-29-2016
Categories:
hilt, adventure, fantasy, fun, funny,
Form:
Light Verse
My hero is Henry David Thoreau
Rather than pay taxes, to jail he’d go
With Uncle Sam’s hand out
Thoreau turned up his snout
Refused the poll tax, voting he’d forego
An elderly woman across the street
High property taxes she could not meet
Her house went to foreclosure
Homeless, died of exposure
While the politicians live on High Street
Jonah dwelt in the belly of a whale
No taxes on such a home did prevail
But as soon as he got out
Jonah faced taxes no doubt
Moby Dick's "inner condo" is for sale
Entry for the Taxing Times contest
Categories:
hilt, angst, funny
Form:
Limerick
You whine and whistle, ghostlike, when you round
the corner of my cottage in the cove.
You sweetly soothe or taunt and terrify.
No one on Earth dictates where you will rove.
A menacing marauder or a mild,
melodious, mysterious delight,
you play your part in nature to the hilt--
just heard and felt, not subject to man's sight.
June 23, 2017, placed first in Brian Strand's Mid-Summer Premiere Contest
Date: August 19, 2017
Contest Name: Blowing in the Wind
Sponsor: Nicola Byrne
January 26, 2019, entered on Mark Toney's Poetry Marathon, Mile 13
February 18, 2020, entered in the Strand Select T contest
Categories:
hilt, nature, wind,
Form:
Rhyme
Redemption Knight
He rode the wind on mighty steed
He drove it fast to gain more speed
To win the maiden: noble deed
As he galloped in the night…
He found his damsel in distress
With dragon claws clutching her dress
Disheveled hair and heart astress
As he galloped within sight…
One swift leap and he came aground
His rebel yell a mighty sound
Courage to fight in her he found
As he strode into her plight…
She gazed at eyes of azure blue
A depth of love she never knew
For handsome knight so brave and true
As she held on with her might…
He sunk he sword in to the hilt
Dragon heart blood to ground was spilt
Caught the damsel about to wilt
As his valor set things right…
In his strong arms she found her place
She gazed into his angel face
Between their bodies not a space
As the night was tinged with light…
He bowed his head to plant a kiss
A song of love, no dragon hiss
Her world now filled with utter bliss
As to heaven they took flight….
For Isaiah Zerbest Medaeval contest
August 3, 2013
2nd place win
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Knights are Dead
The knights in shining armor have all died
the damsels in distress are left...distressed
what once was chivalry and manly pride
by silence in the fight is now expressed
Where are the men who knew the right from wrong
who'd come to save a weaker one from pain
perhaps they have forgotten to be strong
their pleasure and their peace they want to gain
And so they leave the wounded in the field
Endeavoring to find what brings delight
forgotten are the ones they were to shield
They leave them there to suffer through the night
You were a knight, but that you are no more
those days are gone, they only live in lore
Eileen Manassian
Categories:
hilt, romance, truth,
Form:
Rhyme
He rode the wind on mighty steed
He drove it fast to gain more speed
To win maiden in noble deed
As he galloped in the night…
He found his damsel in distress
With dragon claws clutching her dress
Disheveled hair and heart astress
As he galloped within sight…
One swift leap and he came aground
His rebel yell a mighty sound
Courage to fight in her he found
As he strode into her plight…
She gazed at eyes of azure blue
A depth of love she never knew
For handsome knight so brave and true
As she held on with her might…
He sunk he sword in to the hilt
Dragon heart blood to ground was spilt
Caught the damsel about to wilt
As his valor set things right…
In his strong arms she found her place
She gazed into his angel face
Between their bodies not a space
As the night was tinged with light…
He bowed his head to plant a kiss
A song of love, no dragon hiss
Her world now filled with utter bliss
As to heaven they took flight….
For Isaiah Zerbest Medaeval contest
August 3, 2013
Categories:
hilt, hero, romance,
Form:
Rhyme