Best His Poems
Passing through framed windows like ours,
I recall your tales of reckless war and lost friends
that burned your innocence at 21... and though
you claimed flashes of courage, moist eyes
poured vulnerability looking calm, undaunted.
We both searched deeply into our souls
as a father is to his young daughter, that I wanted
to let you know, it was alright;
but that mound of shoulders turned away.
Down the years as officer and gentleman,
Time stole long weeks, absent from your dining chair,
leaving me resentful and bitter on hardened sills
until you arrive under crawling dock of stars.
But in free moments, how you cherished
me so; waking my cheeks at 3 am to race the winds,
to fly with a shooting neon, laughing with a blue moon.
You spoke of faith and honor if life dared a shame, oh
mild scent of your arms cuddling my girlish dreams...
until off you rode suddenly on heaven’s wheel.
I see you through all framed windows like ours,
that even if my iced breaths needed you more
as small flowers thirsted for rain, my anger was a cry
for love’s company... “ I have adored you
in moments of distance and nearness, if not
always, then for all eternity.”
Have I forgotten to open this, my soft, broken sigh?
Dad, everything is all right.
Ir0nic Zink's Your Personal Favorite Poem Contest
Resubmitted 5/19/2017
It's raining again, grey neon skies,
washing away suppressed surfaces,
to reveal unhealed wounds,
to scars the eyes cannot see
sometimes they bleed.
Some say words heal,
but I resist to express them,
because I'm afraid of my vulnerabilities,
anxious about tears I've never cried.
You only see the smile,
no one remembers that naive boy,
waiting at the window
for the shepherd who forgot his flock,
and he was no black sheep
if only I could reach him now
so he would not grow up like he did not belong,
stop searching for something,
he did not know how to find.
Stop composing that melancholic symphony,
recycling emotions, he did not understand,
I would tune his piano keys,
repair his violin's broken strings,
but
there are too many silent secrets,
blood stained walls will never reveal.
You left me behind,
with an empty toy box,
taking with you childhood hopes,
so ensued a vacuum of darkness -
sucking me deeper into confusion.
I remember watching you walk away,
along a path of overgrown weeds.
If it was not for the gift of mum's marbles,
I would not have laid an alternative path,
creating my protective bubble,
so I could float away, from all the troubles
until I lost them too.
Tell me father,
how was I to become a man?
You pushed me upon my knees,
like a cherry blossom in the wind.
A victim of your sins,
struggling to rise in adolescence,
I kept faith in the path of marble,
grateful for the guidance of my bubble.
After years of silence
upon your final sighs,
watching you die without words,
tears exploded for a stranger,
forgiving broken promises,
forgetting your crimes -
cursing stubbornness and bitterness,
thinking maybe it was me,
not just you
questions that will never be answered.
Today I stand before your bed of marble,
no need for a bubble, I feel no emotions.
After all I am a product of my childhood,
and you were a result of your own.
Silent One
18 August 2019
O God of the universes of Creation as a whole
I raise my hands; and open my heart and soul.'
Prostrate I call upon your power, to bless my
Friends in these long dark hours' these days
Long abhorred stand now at their doors, I ask
You gird their spirits with strength; enlighten their
Minds that they drive hence' each evil time that
They may face, pray turn them into typhoons
That will remove each trace; those of fear, of doubt
and all false pride, beside them; I ask your power
Resides, of your angel throng assign to them
More than they ever need, these women and men.'
Andrea Deitrich Michael Tor Heidi sands Connie
Marcum Wong Judy Ball Bill Baker Robert Ligouri
Joseph May Harry Horseman Brother Jacob
Sally Eslinger Sara Kendrick Sam Kaufman Joe
Dimino Len Gasun Pangiota Romios James
Marshall Goff Billy the Kidster Vince Suzdail
Jnr Kim Rodriuges Beta Augustin Rob Carmac
Robert Lindley Brandy Nichole Laura Leiser
And last, but not least B J Legros Kelly '
Much Love to all.'
May they each put to flight any 5000 that come
Up against them in any honourable venture they
Embark upon, be that written spoken or intimated
May you be with them each one dear Lord in Jesus
Name with the Holy Spirit as witness.'
A homeless man played his guitar,
for coin rewards put in a jar.
A lonely life he always led,
but in his heart a love he had.
This love he thought of all the time,
during the cold days brought sunshine.
His songs were of a girl he loved,
he sang to her, with stars above.
So many years had gone on by,
but in his heart, and reasons why.
There was this hope that would not die,
the thought of her just made him cry.
Dedicated to my
daughter Ashley...
Michael Tor
Having lived on earth for some time now
Impatiently he dwells, harboring self doubt.
In face of impediments he loses his mind
Acquiring dispositions like hate and lies,
Hosting showmanship to look good and wise.
Never does he claim his world to be saintly
Letting dreams reign and thoughts go wild
Acknowledging failings incapable of verity.
Risking happy tears, triumphs he celebrates
Saving saddened ones to mourn disasters,
Banking on the strength of worn-out hands
As unforgiving minutes tick-tock forever.
When he gets a turn at the wheel of fortune
Losses seem to mount at every pitch-and-toss,
Regretting moments when he says:"hold on"
For he loses the ground on which he stands.
Yet he carries on, in treacherous currents
Swimming boldly in shark-infested waters
Accepting the reality of fish-eat-fish world.
Unsatiated reveries bestow vacant dreams
Never ever venturing to walk with the Kings,
Commoner he is, like his friends in drudgery.
Pride and joy of his family, a Man he's already!
Truth he owns, is the truth he delineates,
Being a flawed man, for forgiveness he prays.
October 21, 2018
Poem of the day on October 23, 2018
Placed first in..In response to Rudyard Kipling's poem IF
Contest by Silent One
Placed 3rd: Strand select 12 by Brian Strand
Above a cloud, in soundless, still tumescence,
a goddess rests; below her is the sea.
A strip of it is rippling luminescence,
a path of light in night’s serenity.
A solitary boat now passes through
the lane of radiance. One man regards
the sky and ocean, both a cobalt blue,
and ponders inspiration of the bards.
For what could man want more than such as this -
-the tranquilness of dark in Luna’s glow!
At times he longs to taste a woman’s kiss
though he embraced this life so long ago. . .
His gaze is fixed on her who shines above.
He chose the sea. . . and moon became his love.
September 18, 2010
Submitted Oct. 7, 2022 for
Mark Toney's 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 16 Poetry Contest
The oyster shell
grows old
and gnarled
but
the p e a r l inside
remains the
same
Susan Ashley
March 22, 2021
(a monoku in non-traditional format)
Poet’s note: this poem is dedicated to my beloved father, Albert, who will be 94 years old on April 27, 2021. Though he deals with a myriad of age-related health issues, it hasn’t tarnished his golden essence. His mortal heart and mind may be aged but his loving spirit is ageless.
Updated note: my dad, Albert, a.k.a. pépé (French Canadian for grandpa), passed away peacefully at home surrounded by his family on June 10, 2021. He will forever be loved and missed by those of us he left behind.
His day had come, and so He went and prayed.
The woes of all mankind upon him weighed.
His brethren slept; He knew what would befall.
His enemies conspired and did not stall.
A midnight kiss, and He would stand betrayed.
First seized, reviled, then stripped and flayed;
A scarlet robe on broken flesh then laid,
He bore the brutal cross and drank the gall.
His day had come.
A final breath. . . . the sacrifice was made.
The land then quaked. God’s sorrow was displayed.
The Son in linen. . . . on the earth a pall.
But in the sepulcher, His final call –
To conquer death! Man need not be afraid.
His day had come!
Submitted 3/12/23
for the Easter Poetry Contest of Regina McIntosh
The Farmer and his Corn
Snug and warm beneath the earth
The field awaits the coming birth
It holds the richness that they need
Provides the anchor for the seed
The farmer by his hand did sow
Soon he knows his seed will grow
When length of day and rain is right
And sun above shines warm and bright
The rain has come the soil is moist
New life burst forth, it has no choice
With a sudden wondrous surge
A field of green does emerge
The farmer feels it in the air
He comes to see his field so fair
Quietly, just after dawn
His brand new field of corn is born
Quickly grow those humble shoots
Drawing goodness through their roots
All hot and hazy summer long
The shoots thrust upward, straight and strong
Golden now as flaxen hair
New seeds upon them they do bear
The farmer picks an ear to eat
To check then that, his corn is sweet
The farmer comes to field one morn
Another with him that day drawn
No face had he and yet was grim
The corn all knew that it was him
A shrouded hood, his face to hide
He follows just two steps behind
The mice whose nests the stalks had borne
Know soon there will be no more corn
Not daring now to take a peep
They know for them they’ve come to reap
Both the men they carried scythes
They know they’ve come to end their lives
The farmer lifts the implement
To cut them down is his intent
A shadow fell, with mighty stroke
The farmers gone, with man in cloak.
Who was that masked man?!?
Brian Williams, rides again.
He was in Amilia Earhart's plane;
even rode with the Dalton Gang.
The day the Titanic went down;
In the rescue boat when Rose was found.
He went on expeditions with Louis and Clark.
Once gave his seat to Rosa Parks.
He was actually the first man in space.
That shadow on the moon........ It's his face!
The earliest woman, they deemed to be
bones in the desert they named Lucy.
She was his niece, tho she drug her knuckles,
so he really is a monkey's uncle!
He walked miles and miles on the Trail of Tears;
wondered the desert with Hebrews for forty years.
He dated Cleopatra; drank wine with Moses;
gave the Queen of Sheba a camel and roses.
He's walked with Bigfoot in the hills;
been bitten by vampires, but magically heals.
He has had great adventures of every kind.
He's Brian Williams; a legend in his own mind.
Maybe I can be one of those news cast stars.
This is Arlene, reporting from mars........
Couldn't resist this little tribute to the wild stories of reporter Brian Williams who was fired for seemingly padding up his stories....
My Lord shall arise with healing in His wings,
The Sun of Righteousness, of whom my soul sings,
The Lord has His way in the storm and whirlwind,
He walks upon the wings of the whistling wind,
Under His wings shall I trust, He'll cover me,
In His loving arms, I'm as safe as can be,
I shall rest under the shadow of His wings,
My Shelter in the storm, to whom my soul clings,
In the covert of His wings shall I rejoice,
My praise is of Him, to Him I lift my voice.
6th May 2023
Out at sea, facing a dark heartfelt storm.
Heading for a lighthouse, taking him home.
Looking at a lit place, over the Hill.
Music and laughter, the night was not still.
In a mood for company, He went in.
Walked to the bar an ordered a Tonic and Gin.
Slow music playing as He sat alone.
Finished his drink and was headed for home.
A lovely lady walked over to him.
Introduced herself, and smiled with a grin.
A once in a lifetime moment in time.
His love had arrived, could this be a sign?
Feelings he felt his heart couldn't keep pace.
He looked in her eyes, and heavenly face.
"Oh what desires you created in me."
"I was a lonely seaman out at sea."
You were the lighthouse that I searched for.
Holding you close and forever adore.
Michael Tor
6/12/2023
ignorance is bliss
baby bunny in the woods -
monitored by lynx
05.11.2018
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Syllable : 5-7-5
That he planned his funeral is factual
And being a prankster quite actual
He prerecorded his voice
So when we kneeled on the joist
He said, "Hi there! Don't I look natural."
He wonders
at the aphrodisiac of her jasmine air
stirring the breeze of his being
heady in the breathy mood of her moon garden
amidst stargazer’s pink whispers
and he wishes
that his jonquil heart
be quenched by her sweet drink -
as he longs to sip sun-ripened nectar
from the calla of her wild plum dreams
Susan Ashley
July 4, 2018
~ Second Place ~
Contest: Any Poem You Want To Write 180 Words Or Less
Sponsor: Caren Krutsinger
~ Ninth Place ~
Contest: Premiere No. 160
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Poet's notes:
* the Jonquil flower represents desire, especially, the reciprocation of one's feelings of desire and love back in return*
*the Calla Lily represents magnificent feminine beauty and delicacy*
*the Wild Plum represents feminine youthfulness. Also, it represents sweet anticipation of the promise of romance one has waited for*