Best Javelins Poems
A noble Black Oak tree stands tall and tranquil
Wearing brown, old and dried crumpled leaves
Withstanding all autumn and winter storms
Without any distress or any grief
Golden fall is long gone, cold, wet season is also concluding
Spring is poking its head up with colorful bulbs blooming
Some of her allies have Cherry blossoms in flourish
Some show progression of luscious new emerald leaves
Mother earth knows unique behavior of her child
With assurance, she lets her be herself while watching over with smile
Tree wants to hold on to longstanding and withered for a while long
Not ready yet to let go of dear presence of that warmth
April comes along to cheer her up
Tree beams, perks up
Ridding her old dry appearance, starts dressing up
Growing yellowish handsome clusters of dangling male catkins,
Gorgeous reddish female flowers in short striking javelins,
Velvety foliage of sharp zigzag tips in red tinge,
With pointed seven to nine lobes with bristles exquisitely unique
Summer grows them into profound shade of shiny green
Rust colored acorns with top halves enclosed in caps start appearing
Showing her wisdom in her towering strength and stability,
With canopy of branches widespread and mighty,
Tree gets ready once more for visitors of ecosystem to offer plenty…
Pitter patter, drip, drop, it’s not an April shower
Drip, drop, drip, drop raining hour after long hour
Suddenly the sun streaks through, javelins of sunlight
Then back to pitter, patter, and rain throughout the night.
In and out of doorways, trying to stay dry
Thunder crashing the Queens dead, the country seems to sigh
Edward the happy monarch will rule with fun from now on
Rain, rain, it never stops crying for the Old Queen is gone.
The sun breaks through the London grey, it sparkles on a tree leaf
Drops still dripping slowly, displaying all their grief.
Happy times are coming, skipping down the London streets
Children playing hopscotch, while the bobbies are on the beat.
A blossom opens a leaf unfurls, breathes the rain drops in
The first sup of clean water in these london streets so grim.
Pitter, patter, feel the rain - dodging in and out of doorways
Trying to keep dry in the summer rain as one does always.
The ringing of the bells, Big Ben strikes the hour
A begging hand from a pile of rags huddled in the shower.
The old queen is dead and gone, but wanders through her city
Looking left and right, she shakes her head in certain pity
Through London town she wanders where dirt and grime abound
She’s searching for she does not know - until it she has found
The thunder crashes the rain pours then drips slowly to an end
The queen is dead long live the King she prays his ways he’ll mend.
©~GG~ 2012
Entry for Tracie's Anything goes competition This is a Poem I have just done for a Magazine about when Queen Victoria died.
We met in rage, incarnadine fury,
meandered, then, became tenacious friends.
From wary circling hearts, we took the chance,
we joined our hands, we spun in place, we laid
a spiral architecture down, we formed
a spring, mosaic metal, powerful
enough to shoot us through life's remainder.
Our kids launched off, angelic, ravenous,
diaphanous, eloquent quintessence
of you and me, the luminous javelins
so deftly thrown, that hit the lustrous mark,
where they began their own soliloquies.
So placidly we now relax, with love,
For azure shards and lyric gleams we seek,
the moonlight in our glade, mellifluous
in all its soundings, serendipity
of sylvan lore, ephemeral saffron
at birth the lunar light, it shows your face,
it coalesces inception's recall,
I see you as that first explosive day.
December 6, 2016
For the 'SHOOTING BLANK VERSE - Poetry Contest' sponsored by John Lawless.
Color javelins
Flowing passionately
Capturing moisture
11/28/16
Thrive survive and live
It is what it is
A day of nothing or success using sieves
Carbonation in the soda pop making it fizz
Distinguished areas for hers and his
Individuals involved or infatuated with the showbiz
Don't get in a tizz
Some just take and or give
The planet spins
Life with cartilage and fins swims
Strikes, splits and gutterballs in lanes with bowling pins
Rooms for rent available at inns
Breath mints in tins
Boys and girls occasionally born as twins
Music made with all instruments even violins
Sports and games played with javelins
At church they'll sing hymns
Sometimes you'll need a membership to certain gyms
Whole milk, soy and skim
Going out on a limb
And off a whim
You either lose draw or win
Even if it's only by a smidge
Another opportunity and day begins
Going from light to dim
Above and below the ridge
On either side of the bridge
Help out your kin
Especially when times are grim
Low to high bids
Placed on items
Waters fished for nearly everything, including squid
Due to road conditions, speed and a loss of control, the car slid
Around the corner and the tires started to skid
Recently or way back when
People have disappeared off the grid
No idea all that you or I have did
And the same could be said for where we've been
By: Dalton Ogletree
Aurora
Arctic prancing prism
Prize sky borne
Blue hunts red
Green seeks safety mountains deep
Ears yearn sound
Faithless Beloved
May javelins of light
Freeze your joy
Terrible splendor
Ice-pack this savage splintered heart
Crush my bones to match
Shout for me
Call down the avalanche
As you leave
Echo my name
Bury me in dazzle
If you dare
THE ANGELS:
Oh!
My angels,
My hands are in the,
Air for you,
Pardon me for abandoning,
You for some times, age,
Like Ojukwu properties,
In Lagos state.
My angels,
I am sorry for sometimes that,
I was like Adam and Eve.
I know that being the
Church mouse that I am
Today is my fault.
My angels,
Thank you for staying
With me in time of
War and difficulties
Like Biafra’s
Thank you for being with
Me in the time I died and,
Come back life again.
My angels,
Thank you for being
With me in
They day I was judge and
And sent to hell,
But who brought me back?
My angels,
Thank you for songs
Of promise you teach me
Day by day.
Shall I intimate you of?
The next war?
Will you fight me?
Again?
THEMES
1. Assistance help
2. War
3. Message
4. Kindness.
NIGERIANS PRISONERS:
We are Nigerian prisoners,
We are not happy.
Where are our counterparts?
We are Nigerian prisoners,
Here we are,
Here we are like a cat.
We are calm and cool like, you.
Every Sundays we puts on jeans like,
Our brethren in deeper life church,
But you put on they suits,
We are not happy.
We are now like the,
Christians but you are,
Are like the crusader, we,
Are not happy, the hour,
Of our service has emerged,
But the gates are not opened,
We are not happy.
We have referees but,
You are still playing rough,
We are not happy,
What of our javelins and it’s,
Field, what will the,
Audience do,
We are not happy,
When will our gates,
Be open? We know that
We are prisoners,
But we will still more.
Obasanjo has been here,
But Abacha is yet to come,
Mandela has been here,
But Yaraduwa is not.
Chimaroke Nnamani has,
Been here,
But Ben Ariugu is yet to come,
Dr. Orjiuzo Kalu has been here,
But Surlivan Chime is yet to come,
Nnamdi Kalu has been here,
But we did not see Asari Tokumbo,
We are not happy.
THEMES
1. Equality before the law.
2. Patience
3. Partiality
4. Corruption
5. Obedience
6. Repentance
7. Baic
8. Hardship
9. Innocent
10. Responsibility
POET’S SPORTS
We are poets,
We are happy,
We are magnets and sharpener,
We sharpens people,
We are poets,
We are happy,
We are great,
We are poets,
We cannot cover our faces,
For we are great,
We are behind the fall of great British,
But we cannot deny,
We are like ships anchor,
Without us,
The ship gets carried away.
We are thy feature,
We are glad;
We are like Ojukwu to you,
While you are like Guwon,
We are your foundation,
While you are the building,
Without us you fall down.
We are poets,
We are great
We are like the angles that,
Open the door of thy success,
We are glad,
Every day,
Our Bick’s and paper rest on the table,
We are happy.
You that thy building collapses every year,
Have thou confronted a poet before?!
We like the white house to thee,
While you are like the whilst bird,
We are glad.
We carries the day to day’s greetings,
We are glad.
We have both the boot and the stockings,
But we lack the ball and the javelins.
Father, where is our lands,
Where is our re- recreational field?
When will we have one?
THEMES
Assistance
Greatness
Happiness
Freedom
Strong
Writing is good
Fame
Information
Legal
Hero
JOY and JINKS
Jolly jocund jubilant Jack Frost wearing thick jacket
joyfully jumped sharp on snow losing jade-locket
Jolted backward by snowstorm yet looked jovial.
Jeered on a jetty jackal rushing from jungle, not trivial.
Junior Jack in jean- jersey with sister Jill Joined to skate.
Jim Jogged, carrying jars of jam, jelly, jaggery in basket.
Jingle bells ringing, Jack jigging, drinking juice from jug.
Joe, friend of Jack drove jerking jeep, met Jack, gave hug.
John, a Joker cum juggler catching and throwing snowballs
Jupiter-Juno both jocose junketing under heavy snowfall.
Jewel thief Jacob fell on snow, picked the lost jade-stone.
Javelins- throw on snowy field managed by Jacqueline alone.
12/17/20
Second Place
Alliteration Contest by Eve Roper
Second Place
Podium Placing Promise (6) Contest by Brian Strand.
NIGERIANS PRISONERS:
We are Nigerian prisoners,
We are not happy.
Where are our counterparts?
We are Nigerian prisoners,
Here we are,
Here we are like a cat.
We are calm and cool like, you.
Every Sundays we puts on jeans like,
Our brethren in deeper life church,
But you put on they suits,
We are not happy.
We are now like the,
Christians but you are,
Are like the crusader, we,
Are not happy, the hour,
Of our service has emerged,
But the gates are not opened,
We are not happy.
We have referees but,
You are still playing rough,
We are not happy,
What of our javelins and it’s,
Field, what will the,
Audience do,
We are not happy,
When will our gates,
Be open? We know that
We are prisoners,
But we will still more.
Obasanjo has been here,
But Abacha is yet to come,
Mandela has been here,
But Yaraduwa is not.
Chimaroke Nnamani has,
Been here,
But Ben Ariugu is yet to come,
Dr. Orjiuzo Kalu has been here,
But Surlivan Chime is yet to come,
Nnamdi Kalu has been here,
But we did not see Asari Tokumbo,
We are not happy.
THEMES
1. Equality before the law.
2. Patience
3. Partiality
4. Corruption
5. Obedience
6. Repentance
7. Baic
8. Hardship
9. Innocent
10. Responsibility
A concerted body of thought
Primes the guarded pump
Each driving rendition, a version
The sculpture of well attuned days
This time around
Jaundice backseat drivers
Underwhelmed by gangrene javelins
Karmic mercury tipped for change
Directions of satan rearranged fallen
New features fitting old scriptures
A hidden mythology of sound, before word
Frontier searching mapmakers to mystic rebound
Or gather old glory in mermaids of fury
Womb pressed to unleash worthy solutions
Silky thrones of forgotten passion
A fine castle estate of make waves
hitting the breakers, sand shark lakes mutant
With escapades curtained in bone
A craving to conquer, a hunger for war
Ships set sail, to foreign soil
Across dark seas onto treacherous shores
Archer’s drawback their bows,
Fiery arrows climb high,
Flying with fury, they darken the sky.
The awful odor of pure detest running through their veins
Projectiles sores then pour like horror’s heated rains
Golden Chariots carry both, man and beast,
Corpses fall
And vultures feast,
Upon their flesh, gnawing on their bones
What lays ahead it is unknown.
Night has fallen and they retreat,
no victory, and no defeat
Surrounding blazing camp fires they celebrate,
Drunken songs, mourn fallen mates
Reeking of sulfur, comes morning dew
They suit for battle, Combat ensues
Gallant and fearless, they stand with pride,
Shoulder to shoulder, side by side.
Mesmerized by the enchanted sounds
The squawking of crows,
their heart’s that pound
The sun beams down
Their armor of silver, reflecting light
Their faces are raw, no sign of fright
Bold bronze shields and, Sharpened spears
Salted sweat trickling down, they have no fear.
They draw their swords, they stand their ground.
It echoes
NOW! !!!
That dreaded sound.
Metal on metal,
Daggers ripping through skin,
All attack, the battle begins
Blades penetrate through tissue and bone
The horrific uttering of shrieks and moans
Mutilated bodies
All are pierced,
Rivers of blood.
All is spilt
The ghastly stench of carcasses, rest at their feet
The sounds of skeletons buckling underneath.
Soldiers collapsing all around,
Thunderous,
it shacks the land
Great warriors, dying noble men
“Forward!!!” They roar
Javelins take flight, and lances thrust
Onward they march, thirsting death
From dawn to dusk
Gaping wounds, detached limbs, and vengeful eyes
They push ahead; they hold the lines,
until all adversaries
have met their demise.
IN THE ART OF WAR
Chiquita Baity
I propose amending
the U.S. Second Amendment.
The right to own and transport and fire arms
shall be constrained
to include only those who demonstrate sufficient mental health
to have no desire to own and transport and fire ballistic arms,
because they are bad for Earth's environment,
and not so great for assured mutual health and safety.
Hunters
with sufficient mental health
prefer bows and arrows
and fishing poles,
and possibly javelins,
or maybe even boomerangs.
I move around campus
both hands twined on my back
I recall actions of notorious campus students
ripping apart useful pages
of book of the jungle with umbilical cord
Others, self-styled athletes
throw javelins as high as they can
tearing into rags
blankets that cover the blue thing
with their sharp tools, magic fumes they act
sorcery, foolishness; what is it truly?
I think of repairs and mending
glue, needles, threads I have
but the broken pieces are too many
scars on the jungle book are too much
Expert tailors are uncooperative
when I call for team work
red eyes and clenched fists
jump out from sockets, trunks
I wonder as I moved on;
“What else can I do but look on?
surely, sooner than later
with jungle ripped apart, blanket torn
jungle book will catch fire
and the roof will collapse!”
Stand and flight, or fly and flee,
The two choices we face.
Stand unmoving,
Or fly above.
Trampled by the world,
Torn to pieces by your “friends,”
Your family.
Facing it in solitude,
Going through it alone.
Take to the sky,
Avoiding the stones and javelins.
Finding the strength to continue,
To survive.
But a stone clips your wing,
The exhaustion takes over,
And you’re left free falling
Falling back to Earth,
To hit rock bottom.
The end of the world,
Cold and alone.
The top so far away,
With no strength left to fly,
I lie in the dark and die.