Best Iron Will Poems
There once was Castle just over the hill
That belonged to a King with an iron will
Nestled safely behind his Castle wall
With an army to insure they wouldn’t fall
It was clear for the entire world to see
Destiny would record him in history
The richest King in all of the land
A beautiful Queen at his right hand
He ruled the land from shore to shore
Tell me, “Could any man ask for more”?
Turns out this King had just one vice
He was so great he forgot to be nice
Against any force he was bound to win
So the devil attacked him from with-in
Such a great King skilled with the sword
Much too great a King to turn to the Lord
Watched his entire Kingdom crumble away
Because he was to great to kneel and pray
An hour before time, they put her through the motions.
Shoving and pulling her strings adding oil and suntan lotion.
Hot and humid still shining in candid spirit she professes
in music, a monotone but in finesse, a tune nonetheless.
Of her welcome song intrinsic in me but to her handlers, in blase
only the mere task of steering and roping in tense power play.
Embarking though marred by obvious signs of abuse and neglect.
Her rolling in elation disguised the slippery entrance and my regret.
Drivers accommodating cramped spaces as directed, gently to fill.
Opting to maitain serenity as they in vain, placate her iron will.
Do I hear her rising blood pulses or lack of joy in welcome thereof?
No, just the sound of tumultuous creaks and human smell
of perfume, tainted sweat and punjent oil leaks let off.
Disgruntled impatience of mere sailors but of her, not a peep.
Standing tall, holding firm a class of her own as she let sweep.
Riding the waves in style directing me to the destiny I must keep.
On and on she rides tantalising the waves as they foam at the peaks.
Such insight when she lapses into a lullaby putting me to sleep.
I return to a friend who knows well to serve, to ferry me ashore.
Another blissful time with her as the sea beckons for us to explore.
She is faithful, a useful companion with its own metallic commodore.
Sailing majestically forever a classy lady, our very own Lady Samoa.
(N.B Lady Samoa is our Inter-Island Ferry)
BROTHER JACK
Just and passionate
A true outdoorsman year around
Cannot change his iron will—it’s like a force of nature
Kinsmen treasure his stalwart company and joy of cooking
Big man with grace in strength
Roars the engine when he waits too long
Only reads in the dead of night
Takes kids out to ski without a grumble
Holds a glass each day to toast the dusk
Escapes the winter to fish the Gulf Coast
Rigs up shelters for wandering bluebirds
Sunday night Apr. 8, 2001:
The night I slept in relative peace
foolishly, naively believing and
falsely assuming that all was well…
But then the morning after:
Though not the worst morning after
still the numbing, paralyzing morning after
the morning his voice seemed far away
as if it were an eerie, drug induced dream
the morning he regretted to inform...
(For a precious few weeks
one hibernates, wrapped up safely
in that protective cocoon
of sweet denial and disbelief)
No, the worst morning after came
after all had been said and done
after basking in the glow of sympathy
after the admiration of my iron will
after all returned to daily routines
after I found myself alone again…
Oh no, the worst morning after
was the morning I startled awake
to find that monster standing there
that monster who pointed at me
and told me the bitter, brutal truth
the awful and merciful truth of God
the truth that you are really gone
and are never, ever coming back…
This dance feels resurrected
Right down to the cherry stains on your sleeve
And the tapestries that look like iron will
But are really shadows cleverly woven to imply it.
I can not see here
The lights are too low
But sometimes things are better seen
When lit by the lanterns of the mind instead.
They look brighter
Redder
Closer to real
Than real could ever be.
We were here once before
A thousand years ago give or take a century.
I spoke with a carnelian tongue
You tasted like pomegranate seeds.
Going back there again
Carrying that same tune
Becoming crimson
Becoming other
Breathe
I lost my breath
You gave me yours
You held me
You said
Breathe
Smile, little boy. It's only a picture:
a gateway to memories you shall
never seek.
A frozen frame of forgotten fear
from falling.
So, smile now as you will be watched
through aged eyes.
Show those teeth, and tell yourself:
"No time was enough to tame my
iron will.
I was, I am, and I shall be smiling."
Smile, little girl. It's only a picture:
A time machine to mother's cookies
attempting
to mask the taste of daddy's
goodbye.
A preserved photo of a perfect
princess.
So smile now and laugh away the
trials.
Smile, young lady. Smile.
The same smile that makes you
beautiful.
Smile, world. It's only a picture:
A time and place only we can choose
to relive again.
A lesson flash frozen and scribbled in
the history books for insurance of
our evolution.
So look back and smile at the
caption of our origins: A still frame
of ancestors captured in the midst of
candid mistake as to say:
"I reveal to and leave you the worst
of me for the better of future face,
and you shall do the same..."
So smile for the snap of a present
imperfection
And be temporarily ignorant and
shameful, but learn:
All the world's a background, and life
is but a never ending parable, with
the virtues improved upon, and the
vices remembered for wisdom.
So, smile, people, It's simply a
picture.
I shall live and die
By my own accord
Only my God may judge me
To him I've proved my worth
I am still here fighting
It matters not what for
On my ship of righteousness
Headed for waters unexplored
The clear night sky will darken
And the clouds seem ominous
I take heed to the sure signs
From them I won't digress
They are in the way of my dreams
And hopes that fill my sails
Like the wind from my heaven
Keeps my skin tough as nails
Evil comes to tempt me
I am not immune
Sometimes I play the hero
Other times I'm just a fool
Either way the choice is mine
I make it with my free will
For that's the gift he gave me
And for what I fight for still
The government is coming
To bring a chaos they call order
The line has been drawn
Between two sides there is a border
I feel myself being torn
To choose a fate in stone
Let this be a lesson
Why I wander on my own
Minds can be controlled
I see it every day
The weak wills fall like dominos
That lie littering my way
An obstacle before me
I iron will it to the end
And when the devil comes
to dance with me
I have already started to transcend
into everything around
I am the universal man
my true form I shall disguise
I am hiding it from this great Satan
they say will come for my demise
I know he will find me
maybe he already has
in a long gone nightmare
that my soul he stole at last
if I remember correctly
I can't say I recall
ever escaping his grip
or did it ever touch me
at all?
What in the ink whorl is papièr churl going on?
Ill quill vapors are trying to victimize me,
vex prose don’t belong
Word saber player haters trying to stick it to me,
throwing cursive stones
Their coarse paper tone is so digital angry
Blog blots got their writes all wrong
Sore spots ... ink stains
Rotted crease stroke brains
always wanna bring paper cut pain
Plenty briquettes blurt-y wanna dance dirty,
a-many ugly exchanges ain’t squid spit purty
If coal paper meet a diamond pen,
Crush Groove is gonna tango win
Counterfeit clone muse
using plagiarist, copy printer tools
Blank scroll troll fools
didn’t learn Poetry Slam old school
Any lip ink unwell with a lying spiel,
gets the clean-up Truth erasure deal
Epithet tongues liquor epitaph envelopes,
gin up troublesome, scarlet letter tropes
But when this Iron Will pen
meet their forged paper
Pallbearer finger caper
gonna press an eulogy send
Writ smack weakies think they’re grit summon strong!
Reflection - The Fragrance of Grace
Mail order catalogs seem to have the ability to procreate in my mailbox. Just when I think I have rendered them infertile they give birth to multiple sets of quintuplets right under my nose as if by magic fertilization! And, of course, I have to examine these newborn opportunities to raid my bank account just to make sure I haven’t missed some article of clothing or thing I can’t possibly live without for the survival of sanity and my eternal happiness. They are like new spring leaves!
spring sprouts in new leaves
boughs sport jackets of light green ~
chartreuse convention
A new arrival from a New England country store pictured a garden of stately purple iris that immediately grabbed my hand and took me on a ride back into my grandmother’s iris garden with delicate, yet eloquent, perfume wafting from silky petaled garden royalty.
Each page was an adventurous journey through my childhood reminiscing about miracle wrinkle erasing creams, magic bunion healers and kitchen gadgets long declared useless by technology. But, one page made me stop, drop and drool - perfumes. No nascent scents but old friends looking at me from glossy pages bringing to mind the women who gave my life definition – the Royal Secret of my grandmother; Bellodgia and Gardenia of my favorite aunts; Tigress of my tigress mother and Blue Grass, a Kentucky meadow perfume of my teens.
These remarkable women straddled fleeing decades, crushing depressions, cataclysmic world wars often suffering the unthinkable loss of infants, children, husbands, siblings and miscarriages. Yet, through their signature scents, they taught me about thanksgiving in tragedy, faith in grieving and the irrepressible iron will to live in the fragrance of grace.
harlequin bouquets
fragrance of flower’s essence ~
sunlight washed gardens
4-21-21
Contest: Moments of Reflections
Sponsor: Malabika Ray Choudhury
Lay his name in the dark
and let your mouth speak of others
so that you might live once again
and hearing of him no longer bothers
Lay his blind eyes to rest
and let your smiling beauty be seen
so all of us in the rest of the world
might have a chance to dream
Lay his cold hands away
and let your soul be whole again
so in the night when you’re alone
you’ll be safe from his forceful sin
Lay his angry words aside
and let your troubled mind be still
so that when you again hear his voice
you will hold with iron will
Lay his forgotten love to sleep
and let yours breath once more
so that you know deep in your heart
he can never again take away, what's yours
Pride wiil not share or ever hide
We drink it young in mother's milk
And eats within and lives a lie,
'Neath a stubborn mask of iron will;
It admits no wrong or mistake,
Heeds no advice an with ill grace
Pretends excuse with sacrifice;
This fragile skin,false covering
Insecurity's low self worth,
Dies its death,orphaned and alone.
One summer hot,
clear day,
It was time to deal with dirty laundry.
In silence,
with a countenance of stone,
unrevealing deep emotions,
things of necessity were done.
She hung bleached-white sheets
out on the line to dry,
then, turning to him,
her iron will broke,
storm clouds rose,
her eyes accused,
yet, all she could say was;
“Don’t leave.”
Gaia in white flame burns
Yaldabaoth himself spurns
A second cycle turns
The Golden Age returns
The first-begotten son
Comes down from heaven’s sun
Barbelo, Armoured Queen
Look gently at this scene
Of Christ’s birth long foreseen
In this iron machine
Hearts of iron will melt
Hearts of gold will be felt
Hearts, gold and meek
Will rule from the word’s peak
Valis will rule and speak
With the lute of mystique
This birth in mystery
Will be our victory
As Polloi rules here
The first child will appear
Clearing the mist of fear
Every past sin and tear
Will be washed away
Clearing a narrow way
The world soul will rain down
Hedera all around
Lilies to make a crown
Acanthus for renown
Myrrh, gold, and frankincense
Without any expense
All goats will return home
All blind cobras that roam
Will be under death’s dome
Miles under farms and loam
Sheep will not fear lions
Men will see aeons
In the stream of Dead Sea
He’ll become a man free
Oak trees will weep honey
On every wild thorn-tree
Grapes will turn Persian plum
Gold will be the plain’s sum
But iron will remain
At sea, war ships will reign
Wars will bring pain
Walls will cover the plain
But when you will grow up
Gaia will drink the cup
Please, come soon, in our plight
You, the viceroy of might
The globe bows to your light
The earth and the blue height
Beseech you to be set free
From Yaldabaoth’s dark sea
You, our lord and brother
Child, smile at your mother
Speak words from the Father
If your lips will not stir
No light will bless your wine
And wisdom shall not shine
(Gnostic poem based on the ancient Roman Virgil's fourth eclogue, often interpreted as foretelling the birth of Christ)
Disease beneath the skin, iron will can never win.
Death in the air, sorrow and misery the killing pair.
What's no longer in the mind, has left for no one to find.
The eery chill, just waiting for the kill.
Demons never cease, death will never release.
The cold dead fingers, kills sorrows singers.
The dead in the earth, doomed from birth.
Lightning streaks the sky, as angels begin to cry.
The mighty hell fire, will never tire.
The infected precense, causes all to wince.
Throughout seasons, death has no reasons.
Hours are days, as the darkness forever stays.
Knife carves through bone, as the end is shown.
Before the damned awake, this world will break.
No repents for the sinner, in this game there is no winner.
When will we see the light, for all sicken of this endless fight.
The heroes will soon be forgotten, for now the loving hearts are rotten.
In those crying eyes, the darkness continues to rise.
Death plays the tune, beckoning the wicked soon.
Will this never end, for all have not sinned.
Remembering the dead, as all watched as demons fed.
Can any make it through, as hearts break in two?
All that remains, is the haunting scars and pains.
Trembling before shadows lord, deafening as the reaper has roared.
The blade falls, without the slightest pause.
Who can rise above, and make true what we've dreamt of?
Who can we trust, to fight through greed and lust?
Shattered dreams, tore through the seams.
We fight this master, as our lives drain faster.
Death comes to all, as they hear the voiceless call.
Getting closer to the gates, who now controls our fates?
Laughter burning through our ears, consuming all fears.
Finally there is freedom, finally the light has come.
Betwixt two sides
protection from the devil
a blend of calm and chaos
separate the twins
and the iron doors appear
a prison of one’s making
Do you think we’re better off, if we let the devil roam free? The killer, once restrained, now is on the loose. Do you think the conscience of the good, gets off scott free? Do you mingle with your base side? Do you hide behind your good, but still entertain the fireball in your hands? Do you knock on doors with evil in your heart, but just enough of a mask to get by? I say let the Lord in; let his cross knock down your iron will, willingly; let Christ set you free! The fire you feel is purifying; the Spirit inside, comforting. The breath that fills your lungs, reborn; your heart in lovely form - its chambers freely flow with peace and love.
1/23/2023