Best Lofted Poems
Young Father Murphy, Parish Priest,
he rang Archbishop Moore,
advising him he suddenly
had taken rather poor.
"I'll not be fit for Sunday mass
as I'm confined to bed,
I'm hoping please your Eminence
you'll do it please instead."
"Good Father Murphy say no more,
for you should never doubt,
the willingness of love my son
to help a brother out.
So have no fear, your flock is safe,
I’ll shepherd it with love
and while confined you should confer
with him who is above."
Then as the cock crowed Sunday morn
good Father rose in haste
and gathered all his golfing gear,
there was no time to waste.
He parred the first and second holes,
his cheeks were all aglow,
when up in heaven Gabriel saw
the sinful priest below.
He took the matter higher up
for justice must be served.
The LORD said, "I've been watching son,
it's not gone unobserved."
The third it was a par three hole,
so Father gave it some,
his ball it lofted in the air
and Murphy holed in one.
Poor Gabriel he just looked in awe ...
the LORD sensed he was vexed;
How justice had been served that day
had Gabriel quite perplexed.
"Dear Gabriel it may seem to you
the priest has gained the most,
but when it's said and done my son,
to whom will Murphy boast."
Categories:
lofted, funny, father, father, love,
Form:
Rhyme
P ower held with in my grip, Run bastard, run.
I nnocence once taken can never be un-ripped.
C olorful the names they'll call me now, hateful;
k eep your pity, you've not poisoned my soul.
Y earling limbs spread for you and you rode.
O nly anger lofted life above the bloody fray,
u ntil today you'd thought nothing of my pain;
r ancid was your heart, but there are many deaths.
P igeon holed in the alley of your miserable hovel
o n a night as hot as hell, what will it be dear,I ask.
I display a fine array of knifes and a scatter gun,
s oftly I whisper Run bastard, runand laugh.
O nly, it appeared, he could not make a manly choice?
N o, poison, it’s too meek, too neat for my voice.
Published in Sweet Dreams And Night Terrors 2013
Categories:
lofted, abuse, death,
Form:
Acrostic
bittersweet vine
twist like pipe curls on a finger
blue birds sings
bird song arias
wake the sun-soaked cat napping
feathers fly
down laced twigs
incubate the Robin’s blue eggs
puss licks his whiskers
lofted sparrow hawk
warm basket of new born kittens
noon whistle
Categories:
lofted, animals, life, nature
Form:
Haiku
Some Say Golf Game
Some say my golf game is really great,
And to go again I sure can hardly wait;
When balls have been hardly driving,
People are astounded and need reviving.
What the most surely would surprise me;
Badly driven ball had hit branch of a tree
Which is when whole scene I then stole,
Ball I lofted landed right into the hole.
My game became a successful campaign;
Always remember when it started to rain;
Being old heard nature and all of her calls;
She said you should never use fake balls.
Golfers must be prepared and up braced;
On score card every line had been erased,
To appear like you were a rising golf star;
Each hole you played ended up being par.
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
Categories:
lofted, allegory, analogy,
Form:
Concrete
I know the Bear.
watcher, courage
unpredict(ability)
I know the Snake.
wisdom of initiation
I know the Wolf.
I know a pack of 'em.
loyalty, intuition
I know the Spider,
though I pretend
I don't.
shadows, communication
I know the Owl,
or, I pretend
I do.
insight, clairvoyance
I even know the Fox.
(I may be the Fox.)
cunning, hidden
messenger
I know the Bobcat, the Alligator.
patience, revenge
and other far-off
Beings, lost to this
space, but not lost
on me, not lost to me.
I know the Bat.
secrets, longevity
I know the Cougar.
So well that I call her,
not by her first name but,
the First Peoples' names:
I call her Catamount/Painter/Puma/
I call her Panther/Mountain Screamer/
I call her Amigo da Onça
foresight, leadership
silence, patience
I know the Coyote, the Crane.
ingenuity and folly; vigilance and independence
I know the Heron, the Lynx.
self-reliance, balance
guardian, listener, guide
And each of these,
each Medicine
each is prayed for
and each preys on
each arrives from
some inchoate world
(land? sky?)
beyond all sight.
An answered wish,
a plea,
a demand.
And each, a predator.
One who wrings life
from flesh
that it might deliver its
song, its dance of Medicine
to one so foolish as
me.
and yet the Hawk,
I see today,
though predator,
is the Medicine of
Solitude.
Near enough,
Far enough.
Alone enough,
apart enough.
a lone Alone.
Hawk
Arc
Lofted.
Lifted.
Hawk.
Medicine.
Alone among...
Denadagohvyu
Categories:
lofted, animal, bird, mythology, native
Form:
Free verse
Lost in My Senses
What wondrous night so warm and magical,
I saw you through the tangle of leaves, the breeze gently kissing your delicate cheeks.
You weaved slowly to and fro as the yellow Chrysanthemum moon spilled its molten gold
on to your velvety cloak of royal blue.
The rustle of the branches created a symphony in tall green stalks of bamboo.
I sat beside you and you whispered your desires into my longing ear.
Every muffled word music, every sound gentle like bells heard at a distance.
Your scent lofted into the night air, sweet and fragrant,
your petals soft and perfect.
Was it all but a dream?
----------------------------------
Dream or Fantasy
Dream?
Or
is it
fantasy?
The beauty of you
leaves me longing for your sweet breath,
but like wisps of fading mist you have vanished from me.
Gone forever in your final dance as the moon melts slowly behind dark silhouettes.
09/27/15
Categories:
lofted, sad love,
Form:
Fibonacci
I found John today.
John died yesterday.
I read of John today.
I vibrate now to his pinch.
Somewhere by a poisoned river
a dead man was born...
Somewhere by a noisy airfield
a pre-writ obit finds me -
The news can still be news.
My future in writing has
been torn and reborn,
today. By George, by John!
A minced oath
of mint stuff.
John left in order to
be found and I surround
myself with his words -
Speaking aloud a baleful
cento of his wordings.
A funerary recitation
lofted into the bitter air
as I read to myself and
some phrases go
burbledy out -
smoke in the pines.
What else, who else
might next die that I
will find it?
Categories:
lofted, death, poetry, poets,
Form:
Free verse
Titans tilting, tangibly human windmills
Swaying sentries, harboring haloed witness
Lofted coal mines, timber canary cages
Whispers from redwoods
Bite Size Poem no34 Poetry Contest
Categories:
lofted, nature,
Form:
Sapphic stanza
What wondrous night so warm and magical,
I saw you through the tangle of leaves, the breeze gently kissing your delicate cheek.
You weaved slowly to and fro as the yellow Chrysanthemum moon
spilled its molten gold onto your velvety cloak of regal blue.
Tall tendrils of bamboo played percussion in time with your symphony of branches
as I sat beside you and you whispered your desires into my longing ear,
every muffled word, music, every sound gentle like bells heard at a distance.
Your scent lofted into the night air, fragrant and sweet, honey on my longing lips,
your petals soft and perfect.
Was it all but a gentle dream?
Categories:
lofted, dream, fantasy, senses,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Virgin skin and smiling eyes
lightly steps in black disguise.
The shadowed depths to travel in
‘neath lofted moon’s pale unveiling.
Spirited way on her lover’s calls,
sneaks through silent mirrored halls,
through the arch of guiltless pleasure,
down unknown flights of enthused lore.
Startled by the prickly shifting breeze
that stirs the ground that shadows seize.
Upon the hill steely gate unfairly wrought!
‘Tis the place where her lover sought,
and bid her in the high of the night,
through misshaped gate, past blinking light,
past chiseled warriors and over cobbled bridge
to their first meeting place the old garden ridge.
In shivering skin she stubbornly waits
pondering naught why her lover is late.
Her innocent heart not broken nor bent
doth not see what impatience may invent.
A tidy minute leads to a weary score,
a guard’s hour, and then many more.
Now heavy lidded her frowning eyes
play witness to the changing of the skies.
The darkness fades to the colour of rum
as she wishes well for whatever did become
of her lover, his kisses and knightly accord
to flatter her with the poetry she adored.
Her innocent heart somnolent and beset
lays its new pillow in the night of regret.
The dawning now bells jilted and wronged
for the girl was forgotten by the love that she longed.
Categories:
lofted, adventure, dedication, devotion, girlfriend-boyfriend,
Form:
Couplet
Remembering the pool
down by the port
where at times we use to swim
sometimes with friends
sometimes alone
at times beneath the moon
black and blue beautiful hues
arm in arm just me with you
the stars above ignited a light
I thought would never end
the days and nights at Gardens Place
I gladly held within
I see the mountains in the valley
where we often use to spend
rekindling the days and many a nights
we sat and reminisced
I see the diamonds in the park
from bleachers we often lofted
I see the bridge all boarded up
as once we came and left
5 days to rekindle
a heart filled with memories
5 days to rekindle
an old love from deep within me.
Categories:
lofted, cute love, deep, emotions,
Form:
Romanticism
sail ship of lofted line
down the keelway rolling fine
splashing birth to berth
Categories:
lofted, on work and working,
Form:
Haiku
Lucent snake
From lofted peaks it writhes
Through jagged fissures and wind scarred ice
Bewitched by Newton’s muse, wily serpent descends
Gorging wide through meadows snared by wildflower’s charm
Still, down it coils in stalking deftness
More prey around the bend...
Mountain Stream
Trois-par-Huit (3-2-3)
Categories:
lofted, mountains, water,
Form:
Verse
I have one great thing that comes so warmly
Tears soaked in love.
My darlington -- pigmy doll.
I rolled my heart like a roller on your tiny cage;
I dewed the evening tide in your leafy page.
I gleaned the minutes to write;
I felt your hug and enjoyed your bite.
In my airiel music I hear "Papa"
That sooths and waters the ground;
In my dismay, I tie your shadow with me;
In me, I am filled -- I found.
Your stretched tiny arm
Your lofted happy boundings;
Your half crescent lipline,
Your flued eyes and that, soundings.
No graeter poem have I heard;
Nor, any greater music arreyed in art's shelf.
That sweet soumd PAPA
Is the best poem itself.
Categories:
lofted, sonmusic, music,
Form:
Lyric
So you’re fifteen and have a part time job walking distance from home
How safe is that?
So you’re living fifteen bars down from Queen’s Surf Waikiki
How safe is that?
So you’re another shipyard worker on a half built cruiser
How safe is that?
So you designed lofted built and tested a Boston Whaler
How safe is that?
So you danced around on fifteen story scaffolding that you put up
How safe is that?
A few thousand hours flight time over cold empty ocean
How safe is that?
So you commented on a woman’s poetry
Dumas
Categories:
lofted, funny, time,
Form:
Bio