Best Mains Poems
Captains Log Star date 8391.1,
I now face a terrible dilemma. After the bloodiest of battles with a crew from
another dimension, a crew of doppelgangers, in essence a crew of ourselves, we
have finally gained the upper hand, and this other Enterprise, Enterprise of
ourselves, Enterprise of unquestioning faith, is tumbling, helplessly through the
coldness of space. And I, I remain unsure of my next move. Do I destroy this other
Enterprise before it makes me believe in the ideas I hear repeated the most? If I
destroy it, what will the consequences be for me and my crew?
(Status Mr. Chekov?)
Captain, her shields are down
With no anti-matter inducer interface
Basically she's a wounded wessel
Just hurling through space
(Spock)
But her coils are recharging
As is that of her design
You have only a brief window
Before her mains are back on line
Mr. Sulu, arm photon torpedoes
And stay ready with your hand
Lock phasers on target
And then await my next command
(locking phasers)
(Uhura)
Captain, the other Enterprise is hailing
Wishing to express their desire
This faith-based you wants to discuss
The terms of a mutual cease fire
(ON SCREEN)
(the faith-based me}
What's the meaning of this attack?
You have taken this too far
And don't you dare forget
I know how blood thirsty you are
(the questioning me)
You represent the old me
The empty parrot of my faith
But so often you gave me comfort
During the loneliest of days
(the faith-based me)
Then we have an understanding
You can see that you need me
I just want.............. to live.....
To love and ........to breath......
Categories:
mains, philosophy, spaceme, me,
Form:
Stair carefully dear into the unknown abyssal void.
Pier was once past and now rotted and rictus, petrified.
Hue manatee threaded ten den and garnet.
Ruby teardrops and crimson Damascus drips droplets,
like a leak key faucet in the dead of night.
Scarlet necklace four by one who did sow much,
kismet of my bloodlust and neck crow man sea.
Fools are all burning with me now, how kris pea.
Cerberus let me pass for free or dye dog,
he growls but I remain steadfast and waltz threw.
Welcome to my finally fore Hades is dead,
only pan door ah re mains.
Categories:
mains, dark, dog, gothic, horror,
Form:
Free verse
J'ai appris que jamais, les anges ne mentent
Car tout ce qui est faux, emprisonne nos âmes
Loin d'un ciel bien trop haut, dans un destin infame
Lié au sort mauvais, que la tristesse hante
Si tes mots s'effilochent dans de fourbes vibrations
Comme un pauvre instrument, au son désaccordé
En mon corps je ressens l'absence de vérité
Et chasse sans reproche ces affabulations
Je prie pour le pardon, que la grâce divine
Libère ainsi tes chaines et apporte la lumière
qu'au fond de toi reviennent, nobles paroles sincères
Et renoue le cordon à la paix d'origine
Et souviens toi que tricher, ralentit ton destin
Les anges ne mentent pas, ils ne pourraient pas voler
Le poids du mensonge est trop lourd à porter
Et désormais ta vie est entre tes mains.
Categories:
mains, angel,
Form:
Rhyme
The power we now witness is only the start
An angry earth she is, her tectonic plates in depart
Seconds later they again meet with abrasive force
The reaction to the action is just a matter of course
Crustal deformation from the abyss of her deep
For she'll care not for, the thousands who will weep
Translucent displacement in furious rise
The energies are now released that will swamp victims cries
Substantial volumes gather at a tremendous rate
No care for our future or the disaster it will create
Whilst out at sea we can can't determine the size
For we will feel the anger as she forcefully applies
Sirens now sounded, on the horizon it's been sighted
Evacuation to the listening, the unheard will be blighted
As it now approaches the shore, wave shoaling compresses the wave
It's speed now slowed down, we now await what it craves
Like a silent assassin it's now ready to pounce
No prisoners it will take as it lands in thunderous trounce
Smashing and crashing as it collects in it's wake
No care for the living or it's material take
The gathering of debris amidst gas mains that erupt
Power lines and buildings feel her anger so abrupt
Losses of many are now caught up in this sadness
From she angry earth, or has she entered madness
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/natural-disasters.php
Categories:
mains, loss, natural disasters, sadcare,
Form:
Quatrain
I was my hands of it all, Translation of Pierre Emmanuel’s Je m’en lave les mains by T. Wignesan
And what could we have done in his place
Who in this century would dare to judge him
he belongs to you and you are me-myself
A tiny cogwheel
An average individual
Someone responsible neither for evil nor for good
Who merely transmits
For others to execute
I am not to blame
Even if these things are not the makings of anyone in particular
they just happen
When such things happen I’m never around
It always takes place elsewhere
It’s not my fault I’m just a soldier
They’ll tell me Yes you’re not to blame
A command is a command
I am a soldier I obey orders I‘m given
I merely pass them down the ranks
It’s not my duty to be concerned I wash my hands of it all
All this then just drains through my fingers
There are other hands to own up to all this
Replete with a hangman who’s one of them
More cowardly than Ponce-Pilate
Who at least kept saying I wield power
Who did everything thought he could really do anything
Excepting the impossible and hence did nothing
To save him
And Jesus said You wouldn’t have had this authority
if it weren’t handed down from up on high
Everyone of us is a grain out of the stock
Each is stymied by all
One’s implacable spineless There’s nothing I can do, I’m helpless
This’s the unending wail rising from humanity
He who alone agrees to bear the burden
Of all the others which none can bear alone
Is capable of the impossible
(from Piere Emmanuel’s “Les Jours de la Passion”, July 2011)
© T. Wignesan – Paris, October 10, 2014
Categories:
mains, power, spiritual, , cute,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
(Sing along to tune "Jonah Man Jazz")
The city of Bongwater was a city of sin,
An epic journey of the man who did the bins,
All that binning at 5am made a terrible din,
Monday mornings in Bongwater's city of sin,
Drive down, bin man,
Drive round the roads,
Sophisticated urban,
Tip those bins down low!
The epic of the bin man in this city of sin,
Driving into parked cars made a terrible din,
"Told you not to park near the bins."
The callous bin man yelled in the city of sin.
This is the epic of the bin man in a city of sin,
Past the schools, he ran over some kids,
"Told you not to walk in front of the bins."
Our hero yelled at the rest of the kids,
Drive down, bin man,
Drive round the roads,
Sophisticated urban,
Tip those bins down low!
An epic journey of the bin man, in a city of sin,
One day, he hit the water mains with the bins,
Fountains erupted in this city of sin,
Bin man's demolished Bongwater, city of sin,
Drive down, bin man,
Drive round the roads,
Sophisticated urban,
Tip the bins down low!
The epic journey of the bin man, in a city of sin,
Driving into light poles in this city of sin,
"Who needs power?" he yelled above the din,
Driving around Bongwater's city of sin,
Drive down, bin man,
Drive round the roads,
Sophisticated urban,
Tip those bins down low!
This is the epic of the city that didn't pray,
One day, the bin man rolled their bins away,
That was the epic of our hero of the bins,
Driving round Bongwater, that city of sin,
All that binning made a terrible din!
Drive down, bin man,
Drive round the roads,
Sophisticated urban,
Tip those bins down low!!!
Categories:
mains, adventure, children, funny, journey,
Form:
Free verse
Ain’t Nuthin To Do in Lubbock
By David J Walker
The Killer came to town
Jerry lee Lewis and his pal
Jim Ed Brown
Playin at the municipal coliseum
To a sell out crowd
Payin up to 5 bucks
Just to see ‘em playin loud
But… that Ain’t Nuthin
Cause Asleep At The Wheel an
Jerry Jeff Walker an The Mains Brothers,
Waylon n Willie and a lot of others
Includin Alvin Crow were still knocking em dead at
Back to back weekend shows
At the Cotton Club
While all the musicians in town
went to see Stevie Ray V
wailing on his fender
At Stubbs where Lou kept the BBQ ribs
And the cold beer comin
Joe Ely was there being cool
playin pool
tradin licks Jesse guitar Taylor
And Some fool still says….
Ain’t nuthin to do in Lubbock
Categories:
mains, music,
Form:
Rhyme
The emotion of your call came over me and I can't stay impassible
this silent keyboard which I can get wonderful sound
my fingers are moving, and can not resist petting and be sensible
the first notes escape and fly in dark night aground
The night is conducive to desire and fantasy
each note one by one is delicately balanced
stronger than a caprice, in pleasure I slip easily
Soft music flies to a new space, light and spiced
I feel within me with every movement of my hands
as a violent storm, strong and melodious
this wave through me and takes me far away to the end
in a world of accents lyrical and harmonious
The strength of a desire expressed beyond the mountains and seas
the inevitable need to create and to leave in the joy of playing
I lose myself In a divine and solitary ecstasy which it releases
under the sweet stare of the silvery moon smiling
-----------------------------------
L'émotion de ton appel m'envahit et je ne peux rester insensible
sur ce clavier muet d'où peuvent sortir de belles sonorités
mes doigts glissent, commencent à le caresser, en gestes paisibles
les premières notes s'échappent et s'envolent avec célérité
La nuit est propice aux fantasmes et aux désirs
avec délicatesse chaque note est harmonieuse
plus fort qu'un caprice, je me laisse aller au plaisir
une musique douce vole vers une autre dimension gracieuse
Je sens en moi à chaque mouvement de mes mains
comme une violente bourrasque aux accords mélodieux
cette onde qui me traverse et qui m'emporte très loin
dans un monde aux accents lyriques harmonieux
La force d'un désir exprimé au delà des montagnes et des mers
le besoin inévitable de se livrer à la joie de jouer
libère mon extase divine et solitaire dans laquelle je me perds
sous le regard doux et bienveillant de la lune argentée.
Categories:
mains, fantasy,
Form:
Free verse
Life is short
But love can be shorter
I wonder if love could ever be overwhelming
I wonder if we could ever get tired of love
I wonder if we’d push people away because they love us
Is that what love is really about?
I wonder if the foundation of love could be mistrust
Re-echoing and resounding worst memories
I wonder if love is desultory
And probably depends on happening situations
Like a bag on a windy desert
True Love they say never fades
But does it even last for ages
I’ve been digging for days
Surfing and scattering the mains
Where goes love?
Down our tummies?
So, they don’t last?
Or up in our chest ?
Like an undetectable malformation ?
Or skyrocketing to brains?
Probably why we go crazy about the people we love
I really hope it’s all not a mirage
But rather true reflections of genuine affection
And not delusion of fantasies
The only thing we wish to see in our images
An aura of love strongly bonded across our hearts
Where distance cannot even stand a chance
Of separating the ones we love
But I still ask from the bottom of my mind
What is love??
Categories:
mains, 10th grade, best friend,
Form:
Metrical Tale
Buddgelin Bey – Translation of Rex Marshall’s « Buddgelin Bey » by T. Wignesan
(Rex Marshall, b. July 16, 1943 at Grafton, belongs to the aboriginal tribe, Thungutti/Gumbaingeri of the Baryulgil
Reserve in New South Wales. He studied up to 6th grade in primary schools and then set himself the task of working for the betterment of aboriginals. The Hardy company’s asbestos mine, situated right in the centre of the reserve, accounted for the deaths (through asbestos poisoning ; l’amiante in French) of many miners and their family members. Asbestos tailings were used for covering roads. Rex Marshall and his fellow kinsmen then set up the Aboriginal Embassy in 1972 in order to draw international attention to « the racist oppression and covert genocide of Aboriginals. » He served on various aboriginal organizations for the uplift of his peoples, both on the regional and national levels. (Inside Black Australia, 1988). T. Wignesan, Paris, December 12, 2016 .
Les nuages noirs s’amoncellent loin dans le ciel
D’un moment à l’autre l’orage va s’éclater
Et Maman le tient à l’œil sans cligner des yeux
En tenant l’hache dans ses mains et en gardant les deux pieds
bien firmes sur le sol
Enfin elle se prépare pour se défendre
Contre le vent déchainé et la pluie se tombant tout autour
En accordance avec ses coutumes, elle devait couper les
nuages orageux
Pendant qu’elle agitait l’hache en chantant avec toute
vigueur
Un rite qu’elle avait hérité de sa tribu
Cette coutume qu’elle pratiquait toute fière d’elle-même
Elle acheva le rite en poussant le cri : « Buddgelin Bey ! »
L’orage est bien sûr dissipé.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016
Categories:
mains, humorous, mother, nature, rights,
Form:
Free verse
Daybreak
Desert sun, caress this mountain flat.
Rise and warm, push darkness back.
Engage the Earth, embrace it
for your own names sake,
Awaken the shapes and colors
That daybreak creates.
Establish the season
Wind up clock, cut through the mist
and shine on my stock,
From molten ash, to ignited sea
sending un-reined light, running wild and free
stampeding flame, unshod and untamed
spirited illusions from fusion burning so far away
Dappled, green, or splashed fiery red,
Mains of blue flame and hooves of hot led,
Escaping confinement, seeping through, heating the blinds
Encroaching and passing yet evoking nowhere to hide.
But to rid all the world of coldness and dark.
As the fires of spring gleam,
Through open eyes of the heart.
Give us this day, if even the last,
Hold the sorrows of tomorrow
and roll yesterday back
So that when it appears I'll be wed to the sight,
The softest beams of gold and white.
And made as one, in light of day
amongst the lost to light the way.
You see,
All of the above and the shadow of death,
are all wrapped into one.
The Sun, our greatest asset.
For that, I'll be waiting riding high on the plain,
Tipping my hat to the sky,
“It's good to see you again”
Categories:
mains, beauty, creation, sunshine,
Form:
Cowboy Poetry
My hands are embedded in your skin,
And your body is rambling,
To the sea of a thousand waves,
> I am a boat ...
-
I have the heart that fails,
Engraving on the ocean, my wake
When under the terms of travel
You also ondoies the hips
-
... If it is falling into oblivion
After the course of the hills
Fingers hanging with saline scents
On the pleated waves of your bed,
-
When the desire is resting
It has neither beginning, nor end,
But resurrects while whith its whole hunger,
It combines us, and overlays us ...
-
My mouth keeps in mind,
The taste of passion in fruits,
Always present in the heart of the night
> Shining Path of the walkway.
--- ( own translation from french )
-
" Le sentier lumineux du promenoir"
-
Mes mains se sont incrustées dans ta peau,
Et ton corps qui divague,
A la mer aux mille vagues,
Je suis un bateau...
-
J'ai le coeur qui flanche,
A graver sur l'océan, mon sillage,
Quand aux termes du voyage,
Tu ondoies aussi des hanches,
-
...Si c'est basculer dans l'oubli,
Après le parcours les collines,
Les doigts accrochés de senteurs salines,
Aux ondes plissées de ton lit,
-
Quand le désir se repose,
Il n'a ni commencement, ni fin ,
Mais ressuscite, tout à sa faim,
Il nous combine, et superpose ...
-
Ma bouche garde en mémoire,
Le goût de la passion, en fruits,
Toujours présent, au coeur de la nuit,
> Sentier lumineux de promenoir.
-
Categories:
mains, allusion, beauty, body, girlfriend,
Form:
Quatrain
"The streams are my veins."
Rivers, rather than flowing around us, deliver vitality to every cell and fiber in the body. They are the life-giving arteries and veins of the earth. By Poet
Sarcastic, keen vision makes me shiver,
Some light gills merge to shape a grand river.
My shattered lungs could burst the concrete chains,
Each song stirs the vent veins of the liver.
All gentlest sounds conspire to clear my veins,
Your love flows like the Nile through Egypt's plains.
But can I ignore your love in my face?
Don't miss wetting the dense stems with your mains.
Wasting flowers could divest her of grace,
My soul was relieved by the tune's embrace.
Allow viewing realms from the onset.
She fascinates every time with the lace.
No applied falseness but switches my mindset,
I am just leery about this concept.
Dull words of fear, half peace, and half sorrow,
A halt would be marked; I lack an outset.
They say you were all over the bellow,
Croon in a shrewd tone, and you will follow.
Once you head me going, I'm harsh to sway,
I've seen creeks full of life rushing 'morrow.
A calm stream bears lithe life into the clay,
Reap peace and calm, at sea, don't jump astray.
All the sounds are causing my veins to stream,
No mountains or freeways prompt me to stray.
My veins run through my mind like magic-dream,
It's glum, but I note them in my bloodstream.
Your love spares me from being powerless,
When you wake up, it won't stop meaning realms.
Written: August 2nd, 2022
Let Your Muse Be Inspired - R Form Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
1ST Place Contest Winner
Used: HMS.COM// 10 syllables per line
Rhyme: AAbA-BBcB-CCdC...
Categories:
mains, analogy, appreciation, beauty, river,
Form:
Rubaiyat
Un appel – Translation of Oodgeroo Noonuccal’s « An Appeal » by T. Wignesan
Les hommes d’Etat qui ourdissent les lois de la nation
Munis du pouvoir pour contraindre ceux qui résistent,
Guidez nous réaliser le but de notre cause:
Ceci est le devoir des dirigeants.
Les écrivains dont la nation toute entière sont à votre écoute
Vos plumes sont des sabres qui font reculer les opposants,
Parlez haut et clair de ce que nous sévit
Afin que tout le monde soit au courant.
Les syndicats qui soutiennent la démocratie
Protecteurs de la liberté sociale,
Soyez sensible à la justesse de notre plaidoirie
Et agissez-vous avec vigueur.
Les églises qui prêchent le Nazaréen,
Soyez de notre coté et intervenez en notre faveur.
Montrez-nous ce que c’est l’amour chrétien
Nous qui l’avons tant besoin.
La presse qui est dotée d’un pouvoir suprême,
Les déshérités vous en font appel:
Mettez fin à cette injustice et le fléau
Dont nous nous souffrons.
Tous les blancs qui nous soutiennent, en dernier lieu
Nos plus ardents espoirs se trouvent dans vos mains ;
L’opinion publique c’est notre meilleur ami
Pour lutter contre l’ennemi.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016
Categories:
mains, hope, inspirational, rights, voice,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
just the other day
my young son
out of the blue
as me
dad he says
dad are there cowboys
in heaven
well i thought
what do i do?
so i tippet back my hat
and said son i
know the answer to that
yes there are cowboys in heaven
they ride herd over the stars
they play there guitars
and sing to the angels
they water there white horses
with mains of silver
in a crystal clear river
there saddles are laced with gold
they ride were it is nether hot nor cold
they only open the gate
for those who ride true
and shoot straight
so you see son there are
cowboys in heaven
you better shoot straight
and ride true
or they will never
open the gate for you
Categories:
mains, cowboy-western, son, son,
Form:
Free verse