Best Last Stand Poems
An ancient twilight tree now stands alone
with weakened cries of olden creak and groan;
winter’s rattling winds do rise and shake it -
in stark silhouette shriveled and reaching
wizened limbs thirst for Mercy beseeching;
prides the deep roots he laid down that did knit -
Nature bemoans as old oak's overblown.
Susan Ashley
November 29, 2018
~ Second Place ~
Contest: The Last
Sponsor: Silent One
*Overblown: to blow over, away, or across. Late 15c., blown over, passed away. For the purpose of this poem, ‘overblown’ means to fall over by force of the wind.. ‘overblown’ can also be defined as ‘passed away’, which in the context of this poem means ‘the death of’
*Rhyme scheme: AA B CC B A*
One night I had a dream. I heard a blood curdling scream.
It was death approaching me....
Thirty-two years I've escaped the clutches of death
I'm exhausted and out of breath
It's time to straighten my tie and man up!
Slip on these boxing gloves and stand up!
"Ding, Ding" is the sound of the bell
I was determined to fight my way out of hell!
The Grim-reaper dances around the ring.
Blow after blow my body and face feel the sting.
His fists never miss, he's lightening fast.
By the end of this fight I'll be dead or in a body cast!
He bobs and weaves trying to avoid me,
And just like Muhammad Ali -
"Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee!"
Taking me further into Death Valley!
My back is against the ropes.
I begin to doubt and give up hope.
I took a hit, my eye split, and I tumbled like an acrobat!
With a splat, my back hit the mat!
I lost consciousness, but could hear voices all around me.
This erie voice hissed, "Join us in hell for eternity!"
I felt my chest jolt and life flowed through my spine.
I opened my eyes immediately felt like a new man.
To my surprise I had survived The Last Stand!!
*For Rambling Poets contest "I dreamed...."
* I chose "Death" - truly enjoyed
I climbed the mountains, I've trodden the plains
I walked in the scorching sun and also the rains
I reached far ends and may be crossed the lines
Through the fangs and sometimes tides
But luck goes to he who keeps alive
For it's the wages of every persistent strive
And the passing of time brought me to my best love
Sh'ld it be slavery I'm choosing to slave
You see freedom is a feeling only felt in the heart
It starts with you before comes the light.
Your choice is your freedom: the magic of your might
It sends you into the sky like flying kite
The day i met her, she became a place to stand
My past from then became a dark land
And i gripped Catalina in my very right hand.
Remember home is a head and never behind.
For now i don't care whether i found love or it found me
As long as it gave me wings to fly free
It's hard my friends you can't really agree
That I'm stronger and straighter than a palm tree.
Who was it that has sent you here this day?
Timed with chance by a wronged man's suspicions.
An accurate surprise shot you this way.
It was quick like me shutting this small book.
Death before repentance on back slide slope.
Smoother than oil drops on honeycomb's hook.
Left with regrets measured by hourglass sand.
So it is by this white throne I now stand.
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**Inspired by Proverbs 5:3 (KJV)**
I have been here for almost three years. I still like my first posted poem, though I no longer like poems I wrote years prior to joining PS (this first poem is the only exception). I still like this poem because it was the start of my style changing. Since becoming a member, I have learned a lot about the different forms of poetry, especially meter.
When Sitting Bull and Colonel Custer were locked in mortal battle,
And with arrows flying and heard was the muskets' fearsome rattle,
Finally surrounded and when all hope was lost, Custer was heard to say,
"You must be bull sittin' me!" Proclaiming with his last breath, "Foul play!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
THE LAST STAND
Where have all my people gone, the Navaho, Lakota, and the Sue,
Smothered beneath the white man's blanket,
Chocking for a breath of airs life's sustaining oxygen.
The beating heart of native drums, are stilled frozen,
In the middle of it's rhythmic thumping, no pulses echo,
Can be heard on the open plain.
The weeping women kneel on sacred ground, shedding
A river of bloods tears, burning a permanent scare across,
A baron landscape.
Death's black raven shields itself, under it's crimson soaked wing,
Against shames immoral injustice.
Greed's insatiable hunger for land and riches fuels lusts desire,
Behold exterminations holocaust of the native inhabitants,
Nothing remains alive except ignorance blackened shadow.
How much blood can mother earth be forced to drink before,
She drowns herself or spits up everything undigested,
With sheer disdain and hatreds malice intent.
On a black and white chess board the winners takes it all,
Strategies grand masters playing with living pawns.
Treaties written in vanishing ink, promises disappear in thin air,
Revealing a liars sharpened tongue.
The odds have always been stacked against those believing in fairness.
A rogue tidal wave of humanity has wiped out a nation,
And it's culture within the blink of an eye.
Flights appendages are clipped on the dove of peace, leaving it
Unable to soar above it's own habitat.
Wreckage’s refugees stumble in the ruins after math,
Rapes victims of civilizations civilized,
Are left devoid of their heritages lineage and legacy.
Elders chieftains representatives of a great nation,
Smoke peace pipes in the white mans hunting lodge
In Washington.
As human beings are hauled like cattle's cargo,
Taken to reservations burial grounds.
Ancient ancestors lit up the heaven's vast expanse,
By torches flame,
To guide the souls of the dead unto their great spiritual
Plain beyond.
The pale horse gallops forward without a rider,
And the red people become a phantom tribe vanishing
Upon the winds shifting tides.
Giving one last final tribal battle war cry,
Why my father but the great spirit answers not.
Behold America's legacy, a world trampled beneath
It's heavy iron fist, all in the name of progress or for the cause
Of Manifest destiny.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
i'm a soldier fighting in a war death all around how can this be my sargent blood is all over me!oh god he is dead that makes me in charge of my squad!we are connered we are all going too die westart shooting them for america we all cry as the bullets fly!
He steps outside to ease his troubled mind. Wind grabs at his tattered cloak;
spray from the furious waves mock the firmness of his belief in safety. Feelings
alone hold him together dancing wildly from each tingling hair to those receptors
that step over his command.
Mutiny could be his downfall.
Struggling to balance emotion with pride he attempts the last stand, which he
has prepared for but for which he is truly disappointed, glory it seems has a
price. Even though the outcome is what was planned from the beginning, the
first thought that ever had been pulled out of that place which is there but not
seen.
Here everything is the same but empty except those few dreaming minds that
have the means to stay long enough to appreciate a place that is full of peace
and silence. They walk, yet they search for nothing that I could begin to
understand, and it would be impossible to try, considering all that i know.
So far it could be something that I truly appreciate, but I still have lots of
learning to accomplish, maybe someday.
I stand in defense of decorum and civility
Spirited debates over a cup of tea
I'm a staunch supporter of the art of statesmanship
To be worthy of my fealty
To gain my unwavering loyalty
You must possess integrity and have a guileless lip
I will demand no less
I will cross swords with the best
To ensure our cause stay pure and true
I will not bend ear to chicanery
I will not follow an evil command
I declare this to be chivalry's last stand
Where does one go when honor abates
To follow someone with villainous traits
No! To such I refuse to pledge my hand
The world is awash in vulgar disposition
It has yielded to every foul imposition
Let valor prevail at chivalry's last stand
Last night in my slumber I saw destruction and death
It wasn’t caused by the riots, heroin or meth
There was no discrimination, no discernible math
It laid waste to all that stood in its path
It rained fire in the east and then quickly moved west
Many were consumed, our worst and our best
It had no empathy, it scorched much of our earth
Both the young and old died, many before birth
I had witnessed the technology of man and how it caused so much death
A simple malfunction released the dragon’s breath
We no longer stood divided, but united by one common goal
It was simply to survive and regain some sort of control
In deep sleep I saw mass destruction sweep throughout our land
But in the end it was unity that saved our last stand
I need to break out, I need to break through,
It’s all about me and squat about you.
Lord let me shine, put me to test
Show them my mettle, my very true best.
I’m in this to win, don’t stand in my way,
I’ve always been great to make voter’s sway,
I’ll do and I’ll say whatever I need,
My ultimate goal, they follow my creed.
These joker’s assembled, the best of the bunch
Little they know I’ll eat them for lunch,
And then when its done, let’s throw them a bone,
Make someone my Vice, a worthless sweet home.
You’ve got to get tough when Trump’s the end goal,
A perilous journey towards a wild shoal,
But history knows but one winning hand,
So here’s where I make my desperate last stand.
No more need to really ever stare
Rarely see a lady fair
Gone are days when to be was bold
You Eyed them all
But now we're old
Funny how the years flew by
Same white clouds
Same blue sky
Just see with eyes
And aging bones
The babes pass by
Now they have their hand held phones
And when this fair sex passes by
I always smile
My age a lie
Other men may sit and frown
For me old age
Won't let me down
I'll never ever be a sage
But never write a final page
An active life
Can bury rage
Be not so quick
To announce our death
Set aside your shovel and your spade
There will be no burial here
Not as long as these lips have words to form
Or there are tales to be spun
From these withered hands
Yes, we have been quiet
Overwhelmed by today’s clutter
You live too fast
We speak
But you have no time to hear
You can not get culture
At your drive-through windows
Nor can we simply dish it out
For you to scan at will
Ours are words with meaning
They are to be savored for their value
They refuse to be simply devoured
Without leaving some taste behind
Please stop for just a moment
I promise to attempt to entertain you
Maybe it won’t hurt as much as you fear
You will not leave here untouched
For if I fail I will simply lie back
And let you cover my memory
To go about your life
As you began
In darkness
Poetry is not dead
As long as a single soul survives
Ed Roberts 5/14/91
(The title piece of my first book)
The raging waters will soon cover this mountain,
My last resting place,
No salvation crashing through the dust clouds
I scream aloud at our own stupidity
Ashamed at my fellowman
Warnings unheeded
Lessons ignored
No last Stand
The debt is finally settled
You who survive must make amends
If you dont do right by God
A price will be paid
And perhaps your children
Will one day write this same message.
(In memory of Governor William Donald Schaefer)
A Spirit he was, roaming
wild and free
Often a pistol and a live-
wire, he could be
Quick to give to Our tragic
flaws, the third degree
Having built his foundation,
on expressing Honesty
With the intention of being
a "Public Servant, not a gove-
nor", you see
Truly, was William Donald Schae-
fer, a pillar of Our community
On a whirlwind of a ride, had he
taken the State of MD
During his term in office, which
came to end, abruptly
Yet, I can imagine him before
passing, exclaiming:"Don't Cry
For Me, because Heaven's where
I'll be spending My eternity"