Best Laments Poems
I hear the voices you once bequeathed to me
Enchanting concert music in symphony of love
But I left the theater before the show was over
Walking all alone in the missteps of contempt,
Endorsing the reticence of unspoken words.
Deep in my psyche these memories now reside
Where devoid of fond smiles, blossoms have dried.
As I refuse to accept that I’ve lost you forever
Echoes of outcry from the unsung emotions
Poignantly evoke the saddest lines of discourse
In conversations espousing laments of my soul,
Within backstreets of mind amid chaos of thoughts
Having lost directions to dreamlands of the past,
For I refused the promise in winter’s goodbye
And rejected fiery passions of autumnal vibes,
As I squashed the dreams in flights of monarchs—
Never kissing fragrant lips of doting ambrosia.
Though you guided me through twilight of romance
I struggled in ineptitude of lovesick night of dark—
Oh, how I missed my mark beneath the northern star!
As my storm keeps churning, hosting a cyclone,
The rivers, once calm, have flooded my crops
And gusty winds ravaged dismantling my farm
And tall weeds have now occupied my sidewalks,
As dissonance of our love remorsefully squalls
Within indecisive nomenclature of my timid heart.
September 25, 2019
Placed 1st: In the backstreets of my mind poetry contest
Sponsor: Silent One
Placed 3rd: Strand select C contest by Brian Strand
"Lucifer's Laments"
By M. Taha Effendi
(Dramatic Monologue)
Do You not see, Almighty God,
How Your order man defied?
So base, so vile, so gravely flawed,
Yet so consumed by pride!
He broke all sacred codes though warned,
He dared to pay no heed,
He mocked Your words, Your gifts he
scorned,
He breached what You decreed,
Beyond the holy saint's facade,
There hides a worthless cheat,
A savage beast, a thief, a fraud,
The master of deceit,
Too weak to tame his lust and greed,
To feel remorse, too vain,
Power, wealth his only creed,
And Your worship he disdains,
He quenched his thirst with blood he
spilled,
In countless wars he waged,
Centuries wore on. Millions killed,
Civilizations laid to waste,
But he prides this life of sin and crime,
As he leads himself astray!
His humanity lost in his race with time,
And by the error of his way,
Why then My Lord was I expelled?
Was mine a darker sin?
I am the angel that rebelled,
But is not man my evil twin?
To salve his conscience, me he blames,
When he himself is full of vice,
While in his heart surely he shames,
To have staged his own demise,
It is a myth his vice I feed,
He writes himself his fate,
Man: A far more disgusting breed,
Not merely my incarnate!
(Finalist - International Poetry Soup
Contest 2011)
I looked in the mirror and all I could see was the pain of loss,
draped in jet-black dress with a veil of gloom on my face.
I tried to smile hard but all I could see was a forced on gloss
dabbed on my lips to hide the bitter truth of grief's trace.
I endured the sufferings of life but this was a misery of death
digging the grave of my love imprisoned in a wooden case.
I tried to joke it off but my laughter was soaked in tear's depth
drowning my joyous memories of him in whirlpool of distress.
I believed the idea to live happily ever after with him on my side
dolloped with love but losing him broke my faith in shards.
I tried to flee from feel of a widow but my mourning couldn't hide;
drab heart of mine is like his cenotaph desolated and marred.
Date: 01/20/2017
Note: For the contest (Form E) by Broken Wings.
*Placed Third*
The poem is true to elegy form but also a personification cause it personifies the character of a widow.
(A true story)
Now i grow older, and beauteous memories turn to weeds,
this blood in my veins turn to water, like a river cold desolute
in the valley bleeds. Yet still on the hill rise i see
"Aunt Mary" Her hair more golden by the day, when my memory returns
and i think of september, and how she succumb like the freshness
of new mowed hay, her passing beautiful and she would have approved.
Alas here in "Back Beck Cemetery" In december the rushing waters
hum a hollow song, the wailing tune of midwinter,
to an unconcerned yet obedient audience.
the chilled musty air
agonize the aging stone...
deep waters rush by.
The tombstones glisten in the pale unloving sunlight,
my spade and i rendezvous there five and half days a week,
just to dig a little for the human race, just to carefully lay some of them here,
some holding on to their earthly hand me down attributes, some rightly earned,
others a relief from the eroding sentiment of life.
Oh! Then there are the infirmed, and the joy of knowing I,
here in this their final resting place, knowing this their very last winter of discontent!
© Harry J Horsman 2013
For more than a year I've lain stiff and quiet upon the hospital bed,
Bandaged and bundled and waited on like an unruly infant,
Finally allowed to get a drink myself when I'm dry and try to feed myself.
The catheter is removed and once again I must stand and stroll to the loo.
Allowed now to sit up for maybe two hours at a stretch; bring me my laptop.
Trying to read the soup and find what the passing calendar pages have done.
To my old friends, SHAME! few have kept up with their posts.
To my new friends HELLO and WELCOME we need fresh blood like vampires!
Now criticize me and make me anxious enough to write
Once heard about
those birds and the bees
and their exploits of pollination,
amidst the flowers the trees.
Now I knew
why we had a beautiful garden
when every morning
through the dew,
my mother would trudge and take in
the scent of the Roses,
my father never too far behind.
Once when inquiring where I was born.
“In the back garden
beneath the cabbage patch”
Wow, talk about being a vegetable!
© Harry J Horsman 2013
Lamenting love rest upon my humble heart,
May thy candle burn quickly before thy night…
Loves lament lies lingering from far apart,
For the slings and arrows deploy and depart,
Solitary stars sacrificed amidst dying light…
Lamenting love rest upon my humble heart,
A broken hearts graveyard a calamitous compart,
Release my soul this warmless winters white…
Loves lament lies lingering from far apart,
Your love has harpooned a distrustful dart,
Like a raging rioting roar with a bitter bite…
Lamenting love rest upon my humble heart,
Lost in love, arrested & abandoned by black art,
Your voiceless words are daggers that ignite…
Loves lament lies lingering from far apart,
For you, my love has become an infamous impart,
Where tedious tears testify tenderly in twilight…
Lamenting love rest upon my humble heart,
Loves lament lies lingering from far apart.
Jan.21.2020
Your Best 2019-2020 Villanelle
Sponsored by: William Kekaula
Placed 5'th...Thank You
In the garbage lilies may bloom
Yet in its odor will always loom
Faint traces of its abused past
Wounds may fade but traces last
Had heaven pity on this fool
And struck her down dead where she lay
That she did not see another day
Mourned in loss and wasted away
If I tore out these eyes of mine
And blinded to the sight divine
That caught my eyes, I will not sin
By yearning love not mine to keep
When I first tasted love’s venom
How enflamed passions burnt anew
Love pulsed through my soul, a fiery hue
Yet overcomes now solemn Fate,
I am innocent no more.
I will ne’er be what I was before
I depart now, wretched heart
From the remainders of my waste
In hopes that in my death regain
What love I sought and sought in vain
Your lady fair sure owns your heart
Yet your remorse mine for evermore
In the shadows I will meet thee
In your darkest hours to greet thee
Midst deadly silence, fancies free me
Whisper, but my name, you’ll see me…
LAMENTS OF THE OLD
that poor, painful cry
“i’ve fallen and can’t get up!”
hope god will hear you
this is my sickness –
i want to sleep all the time
my kitty don’t mind
i will surely die
forgot to take prescriptions
it’s part of old age
the house is a mess
my wife saves everything
blames it on the cat
oh, dear lord, now what?
there is a crack house next door
change locks seal windows
a car just went by
music so loud it shook the house
scared old puss in boots
mortuary called
bargain price on caskets
it WAS a fine day
i can’t control gas
nor the water works either
monthly bill sky high
I have a case to register with Chief Judge
the one who wrote me and asked me to teach
this hard-nut generation of humans
They hear but not understand, look but not see
They come to me for wisdom and insight
I teach them today but tomorrow
they are as raw as they came yesterday
Revelation, intuition, reason are repelled
I, the Holy Bible lament in tears often
They come to me for knowledge
of the One who created the world
I reveal the secrets today
but tomorrow they are walking Judas Iscariot
bent towards rebellion and destruction
I teach them the Ten Commandments
how to apply them in daily life but
sooner than later all is gone
they are sorcerers and are friends of sin
They come to me looking for heaven’s gate
I sit them down and show them the way
but tomorrow I see them along the wide path to fire
They come to me, read me and quote me
While in the podium of power they swear- me in hand
most pick names from my belly and write them on backs
Yet out in the field of power all is dust
They cheat, kill and are selfishly un-Godly!
Children of God, how stubborn your hearts are!
The holy words of wisdom, the fear of God
are vanishing like snow in tropical heat
Christ on the cross is feeling more pain
Each sin you commit you add one more nail
I have a case to register with the Chief Judge
(A True Story)
Now I grow older, and beauteous memories turn to weeds, this blood in my veins turn to water, like the shivering river cold desolate in the valley bleeds.
Yet still on the hill rise I see 'Aunt Mary' her hair more golden by the day,
when my memory returns and I think of September, and how she succumb
like the freshness of new mowed hay, her passing beautiful and she would
have approved. Alas here in “Back Beck Cemetery” in December the rushing waters hum a hollow song, the wailing tune of midwinter to an unconcerned
yet obedient audience.
the chilled musty air
agonize the aging stone...
deep waters rush by.
The tombstones glisten in the pale unloving sunlight, my spade and I rendezvous there five and a half days a week, just to dig a little for the human race, and carefully lay them here, some holding on to their earthly hand me down attributes, some rightly earned, others a relief from the eroding sentiment of life.
Oh! Then there are those of an infirm foundation, with the joy of knowing I,
wait in this their final resting place, for them no more winters of discontent!
brothers and sisters
to the closed gate of heaven…
life on earth the key
© Harry J Horsman 2019
Poet's Blessings and Laments
Ye with the many empty baskets , save a few for me
Tho' word weary this pen can still shake a tree.
Weave ém with diligence and your greatest care
For we that need writing, will always race to be there.
Hold out the bright gold and beg us to write to win
author's ego may be a wordy knot but not a sin.
So keep the door open , tis the least you can do
for today is flowing and our words are the glue!
Laugh with us as we celebrate with piss and moans
our addiction, we celebrate in ego driven tones.
As your doorway swings, we seek even more keys
music in our writings, turbulence in our deep seas.
As we build rooms to hold our rampaging words
We fight to write and sometimes stampede in herds!
Robert J. Lindley, 4-17-2016
Dedicated to PoetrySoup, written after reading it holds 6th place and is improving.
Also to remind admin, we poets are the glue.. that holds this place together.
So take your well deserved bow but keep on improving...
My heart aches sorrowed
Over the death of King San
My poems shed tears
As my hands wipe dead King's feet
With Shinji's virgin water
Tanka Tears - Poetry Contest
Sponsor Rick Parise
Poet: Rajat Kanti Chakrabarty
8th February, 2015
I
~ He died in my arms -
life flowing out with His blood ...
as I wept red tears ~
II
~ I was once beauty -
branched full with life abiding ...
now I am but cursed ~
I gave you a wonderful
Landscape to view
And grow
Foods and beautiful
Flowers
I gave you fresh
Rivers and lakes
That are homes to myriads
Of sea animals
I gave you different
Kinds of minerals to invent
Tools for making your lives
Easier like the
Mountain bees in their hives
I entrusted you all
These things for you
Are my children
But now….
You have poisoned
The oceans, rivers and lakes
With your elite minds
You have chased away
Animals and beauty
By ruthlessly
Cutting down trees as
If were a sport
Fish and crabs
Are suffocating from
The oil that your ships
Are spilling every season
Orphaned cubs are dying
Of starvation as
Poachers hunt their parents
For entertainment
Butterflies and ladybirds
Have become a fairytale
To most children
Because of toxic chemicals
That you release in the air
Some people’s physique
Have been erred while
Some lands have become
Barren because of your
Flaming, gigantic mushrooms
You have fought me
For many years,
Without knowing that
You are part of me
I tried so hard
To show you the bad
Side and its consequences
With messengers,
But you couldn’t heed
If you see the clouds
Flaming, it is my wounds
That are healing
Which you inflicted on me
If you see raging storms
On oceans and lands,
It is I turning the clock back
To how things ought to be
Returning the clock
Will make most of you
To lament because of hunger
And collapsed civilizations
But in the end…
I’ll usher in a golden
Age for your children