Best Narrative Poems
_________
The sun-yellow house seems smaller somehow,
viewing it now, after all these years...
The street seems narrower, and the trees have grown tall..
And where once open fields spanned both sides of the road,
there are small tract houses, where fences have bloomed.
Neighboring orchards have all disappeared
But, somehow we knew the house would be there....
As if seen from a distance, edged by seasons, yet clear
There's the path that we laid one hot summer day,
in the yard of this house that sits at the bend
near the end of the road, where the sycamore grew....
Someone else left their footprints that lead to the door
There's a rusty-red bike, and a skate left behind
by the squeaky old gate, that tomorrow will find.
As suddenly as wind will spring from the dust
thirty years fell away, and flew into in the past
And quickly alive, all the memories rise,
like a whirlwind of leaves, in a springtime of lives.....
_____
...Our first Christmas trees, and our first holidays...
Anniversaries we spent with just pizza and wine
The place where I cried long into the night,
as the child in me grieved for a mother who died...
Long, starry nights, I was bathed by the moon
rocking my babes to a lullaby tune
_____
Yes....it is all captured there, in the small yellow house
Our very first house, with the snow-white trim
Strange, it may be, but I'm glad it's still yellow...
Still wearing the face of the warm summer sun
The sun- yellow house, with a flagstone path
Where old slate stones bring the sun to the door
It's a path we laid on a warm summer day
in a place that we knew as our very first home
Just a small yellow house, with its snow-white trim...
that sits 'round the bend, where the sycamore grew...
A child of four suffers recurring dreams,
disturbing parents and siblings with screams.
When she awoke, always sore in one knee;
next to a birthmark, it throbbed painfully.
Night after night she feared going to bed.
What caused these nightmares that raged in her head?
Even when grown, the torment persisted,
so a therapist’s aid she enlisted.
“Hypnosis,” said he, “might offer some clues.
Why not try it? You’ve just bad dreams to lose.”
Once under, he guided her to a room --
here people’s lifetimes in books were entombed.
“Find one that is yours,” her counselor said.
Quickly she did, but before it was read,
she felt an ache, saw just a faint title.
The words, she thought, said “Alister Bridle.”
The hypnotic trance now suddenly broke;
puzzling questions “Mr. Bridle” evoked.
For many years she thought that was her name;
perhaps a past life had been filled with pain.
Who was this man? She simply had to know!
Seasons passed, summer suns made way for snow.
In Florida now, 1998,
she thought all the nightmares she had escaped.
But strange dreams always catch us by surprise --
when the lights grow dim, our minds fantasize.
Cloaked in velvet, she left her parents’ farm,
stealing away on a late autumn morn’.
To meet her love, she climbed on the carriage,
knowing her folks would forbid their marriage.
Warm-hued leaves carpeted the hillside road,
and her pulse beat fast; she’d soon join her beau.
She thought only of him; joy cast its smile,
but that’s when he called, “Alice, the bridle!”
The leather band broke and wrapped ‘round her knee.
To the ground she was pulled; her horse ran free.
She met death, but past-life dreams recycle,
and she’d never been “Alister Bridle.”
POTD 23rd June 2019
Maria Williams
Presents
Dance to Love
A tribute to my Dad, the late - Wilfred Forbes
She danced with wild abandon
she danced without a care
With sun kissed skin, her arms flung wide
Wild flowers everywhere
I chanced upon this secret glade
while walking early morn
A sacred aura surrounded it
a jewel in the dawn
A type of place where angels dwell
A place of Hopes and Dreams
A magic place of lush green plants
And sparkling bubbling streams
I drew back lest she saw me,
I dared not break the spell
Wild petals swirled around her
and to the ground they fell
Like homage to a Goddess
that she must surely be
For Gods to but gaze on
not mortals such as me
She twirled around so fast
I could barely see her feet
And even though I stood afar
I knew she gave off heat
When her tempo slowed right down
the air became quite chill
The Elements were but her slaves
she ordered them at will
I could have watched forever
so mesmerized was I
What would I give to dance with you?
I murmured with a sigh
To dance with wild abandon
with this Angel from above
A hundred birds would sing out loud
to watch us Dance To Love
by Maria Williams
This tribute is an enactment of a vision as told to us by our late Dad, which he maintained he witnessed as a young man.
He was an extraordinary orchestral musician and teacher to
some world greats.
He was accomplished in no less than 18 instruments, his favorites being the lead violin and xylophone (played with 8 hammers).
Thank you for listening and watching this video.
Copyright © June 2019 Maria Williams
Video arrangement, production, direction
and compilation:
Ron Williams
Video editing, sound mixing, graphics:
Jayne Hartanto
If you like my video please share
and subscribe on You Tube
POTD 23rd June 2019
The woods were silent except for the shifting
soft sounds of his hooves as they fell upon
the forest floor. There he stood amid the mist in
his white majestic coat calling to me to come
to him and ride upon his back, vanish with him,
(as the sun lay dying into quiet shades of twilight)
into an unknown sacred secret realm where no
one's footsteps could follow.
I stroked his soft warm velvet nose and felt the
subtle flair of his nostrils breath on my hand.
When I climbed upon his back we rode
as one as our love and trust in each other
had slowly grown into a synergy unsurpassed.
Moonlight filtered through the verdant trees
as darkness enveloped the starry sky.
Suddenly we found ourselves in a glade
where we were surrounded by the soft glow
of tiny faeries as numerous as fireflies.
We were warmly welcomed into their sacred
sanctuary and I felt enchanted by their sylvan
beauty as two tiny faeries braided long strands
of my golden hair, intertwining fragrant flowers.
I was asked if I would help to keep the forest
safe from clear cutting, and I promised I would.
I awoke to the faint sound of hoofbeats as dawn
was rising and there were pretty flowers in my hair.
12-25-18
© Connie Marcum Wong
Poem of the Day April 4, 2016
Sophie Scholl was raised a Christian in a Lutheran family
Born in the town of Forchtenberg in south west Germany
For standing defiant against evil with her young life she'd pay
In a country that was in deep turmoil and had lost its way.
She was a young teenager in nineteen thirty three
When a new leader offering hope, emerged in Germany
Adolf Hitler was an Austrian, who came to power
And for many it was the start of their darkest hour.
To unite the German people the Nazis held rallies
In some of the larger towns and all the big cities
But something dark and sinister was taking place
The evil Nazis were plotting to create a master race.
All the youth were encouraged to join an organisation
Hitler youth they were known all over the nation
Sophie and her brother together, with some of their friends
Turned their backs on the movement and vowed to make amends.
Word was getting around about death camps and persecution
Together they decided to form, a small non violent organisation
Known as the 'White Rose' who urged the people to renounce Hitler
They handed out leaflets telling the truth, about the Nazis slaughter.
One day at Munich University where Sophie studied as a student
She was seen distributing leaflets on what Nazi ideology meant
A janitor intervened and confronted her, and wouldn't let her go
She was arrested and then handed over to the notorious Gestapo.
They interrogated her to find out, who her accomplices were
But she wouldn't give them their names, as they tortured her
They charged her with high treason and sentenced her to death
To die by the guillotine and the date of execution was set.
They executed twenty one year old Sophie for making a stand
And they had accused her of being a traitor, to the fatherland
They eventually captured the others, five of them in all
And they too walked to their deaths standing proud and tall.
It’s people like Sophie who want to make the world a better place
And not supporting some twisted ideology like a master race
The Nazis were eventually defeated and their leaders tried
But not before Sophie and millions of other innocents had died.
Written 15th May 2021.
(note: picture is essential to the poem)
POTD 11-25-17
Teacher said my decisions needed consequences.
I have to write a million gazillion sorry sentences.
Billy was stupid to tease me, call my family poor.
I had to kick Billy so he wouldn’t say it more.
Just like Dad does, I laughed when he hit the floor.
Dad would say I was strong, teach says I was wrong.
I don’t understand any grown up stuff.
They don’t act the same way enough,
or Dad is right; I’m so stupid, I can’t keep up.
I’m trying so hard to stop my eyes.
Things always get more worse when I cry.
Even when I’m quiet and being haved
my tummy hurts cause it feels afraid.
Everyone’s at recess, but cause I made an upset,
Teach said there’d be no play time for me yet.
I don’t know what she means by classroom policy,
but it seems like a plan you grow up and forget.
There’s no sorry policy in my family.
Dad never 'pologizes when he kicks me.
"Shhh, look there they are.
No one believed me.
Now you see them too.
A blessing of Unicorns.
If anyone knew where they were
it would be the end of the Unicorns.
The one with the wings is the Queen.
See how sad she looks.
She has separated herself from the blessing.
She loves the other Unicorns
but she is dealing with her own issues.
They love her, she knows that.
This is different.
She has to deal with this herself.
She knows she is loved.
She knows they all care for her.
Deeply!
She is their Queen after all.
What?
A song?
Maybe!
I don't know.
I brought poetry.
I brought soup.
I have to try.
I hope she believes me.
She is going to be fine.
I dreamt about her.
In the dream her wings were spread.
You should of seen them spread
they must of spanned farther than the horizon
higher than the milky way.
In my dream her magic horn was a beacon,
it was leading her through the dark
but she was also a beacon for everyone else.
Everyone who was trapped in the darkness.
She led them too!
She always has.
She is our Queen after all.
I stood there amazed
she was magnificent.
She waited patiently and the light filled her.
She knew it would happen and she was right.
That hand from up above
the one she always trusted
filled her with light.
She is the Queen and in my dream
she had returned in her full glory."
Linda was back.
It starts with an L
L stands for love.
Maybe It's not a dream.
'Fairy tales can come true -
It can happen to you...
life gets more exciting with each
passing day...!'
I believe dreams are
just a window to reality.
I believe in Fairies.
I believe in Unicorns.
And I believe in Linda!
08~12~2014
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
Contest Name: Fighting Depression(poems for PD)
Asteroid
You were out of this world
named for the Perseids
the meteor
that exploded in two striking the blue
between the sun and the moon
the massive spark an exclamation mark
that punctuated perfectly my
“hey we’re going to see some awesome...”
fireworks tonight and
a week later
Gravity
led me to you
all arctic and wolfy
all wild and white
a firecracker alright
You were out of this world
a brilliant light in my life for
fourteen years
Graced
after you died
I learned a meteor
had streaked
that very same sky
the same day
my gift from the heavens
the heavens reclaimed
Asteroid 2000-2014
8.13.2020
Composed for Constance La France’s
All Pets Go To Heaven Poetry Contest
POTD 6th August 2019
The clock ticks down the passing day
Tedious seconds count down my existence
Time for my pills ~ Time to call the nurse
Time ~ taunting my resistance
Soft haunting strains of a violin float
sweetly liquid, melodiously unchained
freeing my mind from weariness faced
No barriers ~ it flows ~ unrestrained
My world of music I lived it ~ breathed it
In whispers ~ it spoke to my Soul
bringing with it, adoration and glory
and a passion beyond my control
I glance at the painting on the wall
pondering this feeling of déjà vu
Memories of this glade from before
Triggers mentation I need to pursue
Memories flood ~ a vision in the distance
an Angel dancing in its midst
who had danced with wild abandon
lucent skin the sun had kissed
How I had yearned to dance with her
with that angel who made me sigh
she had come to shine her own pure light
prompting my spirit to fly
But there’s no girl there ~ awry is my mind
And I’m but a frail old man
I must erase thoughts from my life bygone
And prevail however best I can
~ Every great dream starts with the dreamer
who ventures where mortals dare not tread
And laughs with mirth and cares not for
unfinished rhapsodies playing in his head ~
What’s this? I’m suddenly in the glade?
A strong young lad once more
She has come for me, my Angel love
I leap - I twirl - I soar
We dance with wild abandon
We dance without a care
sun kissed skin our arms entwined
Wild flowers everywhere
It seems I’ve left the world behind
And unshackled my attachments of
A hundred birds do sing out loud
To watch us Dance to Love
by Maria Williams
Thank you for listening and watching this video.
Video arrangement, production, direction
and compilation:
Ron Williams
Video editing, sound mixing, graphics:
Jayne Hartanto
Part 1 and Part 2
Narrated by Kelvin C
If you like my video please share and subscribe on You Tube - thank you
Copyright © August 2019 Maria Williams
POTD 6th August 2019
The 28th of April; I'll always remember that day
It was very overcast and the sky was quite grey
That short journey to the vet I will never forget
And when I think back to that day, I have no regret.
He was such a welcome member of our family
A playful cocker spaniel and we named him Ozzie
He loved to go for long walks out in the country
When he saw us with his lead, he'd go off in a frenzy.
I thought he'd take off when he started wagging his tail
The weather didn't faze him, be it ice snow or hail
I would mumble about the weather under my breath
But he was loving every minute although soaking wet.
We'd get back from our walk and I'd rub him down
You could see the joy in his face and never a frown
Then after his dinner he'd lie down for a long snooze
Out of all the dogs in the world every time him I'd choose.
He was eleven years old when he started to fade
I lost count of the many visits to the vets we made
We must have given him every medicine and pill
But we knew in our hearts that Ozzie was quite ill.
0ur family got together to discuss what was for the best
Reluctantly we all agreed that we should put Ozzie to rest
That terrible morning arrived, it was just another day
All he could do was sleep, he was just too ill to play.
My wife came home from work and I carried him to the car
Then drove slowly down to the vets, it wasn't too far
We went inside and sat down and no words were said
And I tried not to think that soon Ozzie would be dead.
It seemed like a life time then a nurse called us in
I carried him to a side room; the vet was waiting
The vet reassured us that he wouldn't feel a thing
We were both biting our lips to stop us from crying.
We'd brought his favourite biscuits and fed him one by one
And just a few minutes later our playful Ozzie was gone
We stayed with him for a while and then left him there
I know now it was for the best because we did care.
We got home it felt empty no one to greet us at the door
And I missed seeing him where he'd often lie on the floor
Its been three long years now but I'll never forget
That Ozzie was one of the family and not just a pet.
(Ozzie left us on the 28th April 2017)
Written 8th August 2020
For All Pets Go To Heaven Poetry Contest
Sponsored By Constance La France
On cold evenings
Surrounded by friends
Warm and
Safe
I could stay up forever
Taking strength
From the blackness
Talking
Dreaming
Feeling that I could float upward
And walk with the stars
On their lonely journey
Through heaven.
There was a girl
I was with then
Tall
Graceful
And beautiful
When I first saw her
I wanted to feel her softness
Her breathe on my cheek
Her hand
Brushing against my thigh
When I held her close
And even closer
I wanted her
To say she loved me.
Together
Our love
Had a perfect balance
Of
Teasing and challenge
Spontaneity
Courtship
And seduction.
A subtle change
That I never understood
Came about
The closer we became
The more anger
And resentment followed
When she smiled I was envious
When I laughed she was angry
We broke up
We were young
It was my fault
Her fault
Our fault
Or blame it on the times we lived in.
Outside my room
Footsteps echo
In a long and empty hallway
And like an undeliverable letter
A message scrawled
To no one in particular
Haunting visions are
Returned to me
The slenderness of her waist
The way she arched her back
The touch of her hand
The way she kissed
I feel her presence
Yes, I relive all that.
They had fought.
He left without a word...
...while she was sleeping.
She threw on the gown she had worn for him the night before,
pushed off the china vase and blooms he had given her.
She watched them fall in...s l o w...m o t i o n,
listened to them crash to the floor...
...sat on the window sill,
where the bouquet and container had been.
She was alone
but at least...
...she was the only flower.
22~10~2014
Sponsor: Judy Konos
Contest Name: c'est la vie
The blackberry's love for the garden rose
Brought down the gardener's wrath.
The blackberry sensed the danger
As he wended the garden path.
" A love so true as mine", he sighed,
"Must dare to brave the hoe.
Just a few more feet to reach her,
My true love she must know."
He crept along so quietly,
Sometimes quite out of sight
Until he nudged his darling's feet.
Did he dare to trust the light?
He heard the gardener's heavy boot
And hid in craven shame.
He knew he'd soon be weeded out,
A seedling with no name.
"Have I no worth since I don't rate
Some Latin nomenclature?
Without a well known parentage
Am I a freak of nature?
His darling's line was long and pure,
No skeletons in her past.
He had to make his feelings known.
Those boots were treading fast.
Gently then he wrapped his vine
Around his loved one's spine.
In great amazement he opined,
"Her thorns are sharp as mine".
The sweet rose felt his tender touch
And realized his fear
And wondered at his bravery
In coming to her here.
She heard the swishing of the hoe,
She heard those nearing feet.
Quietly letting down her leaves
In a manner so discreet
She covered her wild lover.
The gardener unaware,
Stopped but to view her beauty.
He saw naught hiding there.
She whispered, "You are safe now".
The blackberry's heart was light,
Thankful that his dear sweet rose
Had not exposed his plight.
"A rose is still a rose." she said,
"By any other name
And in our distant ancestry,
We share some of the same".
"I'd rather know your wild love,
Than a love that's dull and tame,"
Cuddling close, returned his kiss
Without a bit of shame.
Next season there were seedlings
Of a very different kind.
The gardener delighted, cried
"A horticultural find."
The moral of this story?
Things aren't always what they seem.
The love you look down on today,
Could be tomorrow's dream.
As a young boy
I watch with interest the small man
Wolf Hunter - a wise father of the hunt
He begins an old ritual
coating his knife blade
rich animal blood and tallow fat
freeze
Wolf Hunter adds another blood-tallow layer
freeze
and another – freeze
A frozen tallow-blood knife
Wolf Hunter knowing the wolf
fixes his knife in ground
blade up
prays and leaves . . .
Grey wolf sniffs air and begins to run
blood is on the wind
he licks, tasting the delicious blood-tallow
He howls into the night and licks faster
a blood lust building
lapping the blade until the sharp edge bites
Feverishly now, faster and harder
Grey wolf licks the blade in the arctic night
great is his craving for blood
The insatiable blood-thirst
now being satisfied by his own warm blood
the naked blade biting his tongue
his carnivorous appetite devouring
In the pale morning light
Wolf Hunter finds Grey Wolf
dead in the snow
stooping down he picks up his knife
I stand . . . frozen – sicken by the sight
Wolf Hunter looking at me says
. . . to be consumed by your own desire
is a dangerous and deadly foe
Years later
staring at the bottle
hands shaking -- eyes filled with lust
a vison: a grey wolf consumed . . . dead
the howl of the wolf-wind beseeching
To be consumed by your own desire is a dangerous and deadly foe
\_____/>
/\ /\
David Meade
12-12-2014
Live Generously
My depression grows everyday,
It started as a come and go,
It decided to stay and create a black cloud,
All I can do,
Is sit and hope,
Wish and dream,
Cry and smile,
I fake these looks for my family,
They feel responsible,
Like they caused my pain,
Truth is,
No one caused it,
It just came,
because a boy,
I loved,
Died,
All alone,
All my fault,
Not being there,
I was so stupid,
So young,
I yelled at him,
Told him i hated him,
Told him to leave me and never come back,
His friends came and got him,
They drove him home,
He decided to come back to see me,
My fault,
My fight caused,
His death,
He tried to get to me,
A car smashed his,
Head trama,
Lungs smashed,
Face scared,
Last words said,
I hate you,
I rushed to his side,
Last thing i hear,
I love you,
Never forget me,
He passed away,
In my arms,
Me in tears,
Unable to tell him,
I love you too,
Never could I forget you,
Your my heart,
My soul,
You'll always be with me