Best November 11 Poems
The Hole Deep in One’s Own Heart
In moments of greatest loss, sadness and sorrow,
A hole forms so deep within one’s own heart;
There it shall remain so for each ‘n every morrow,
Until life’s end when comes our Heavenly depart!
My dearest, such times of tribulation define us pure,
For we know not all the twists and turns of this life;
We must keep our faith ever true, never it to abjure,
Whilst seeking angelic guidance from this human strife!
As we recommit our true faith in God’s blessings above,
We seek solace in His love that only our souls may find;
With this our passions ‘n emotions form the deepest love,
Giving us His blessing as our souls return His love in kind!
God’s love brings our eternal souls into His Heavenly space,
And makes our injured hearts whole in His Divine embrace!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved,
November 11, 2017 (Shakespearean Sonnet)
I could smell and sense
the showers coming in the air
with an approaching storm.
I inhale this
light little scent of heaven.
The rain will never dampen my spirits.
No umbrella for me tonight.
But, I don't mind,
I'll walk in the rain.
I savor this
sweet little taste of heaven.
The flavor is cool and refreshing,
with a purity
that is almost indescribable.
It is cleansing to my soul,
I can feel it
washing away my cares,
and making it okay to smile, again.
I experience this
gentle little caress of heaven.
When it soaks through
my jacket and my jeans.
My shoes splash
in the rain
with every step that I take.
I can hear it
tap dancing on the rooftops,
with invisible feet.
The streetlights
reflect on the wet pavement,
in pools of gold and silver.
The neon signs blink,
red and yellow,
blue and green.
Like drips of paint,
it puddles on the street.
Bringing color
to where there was none before,
only a flood of gray.
Now there is a palette
of fragrances to absorb.
Creating almost a rainbow
in the nighttime.
Written by: Kelly Deschler
November 11th, 2013
For Nette Onclaud's contest - "Fragrance Of Rain"
Where willows sway in wintry woe
Sunrise shimmers on falling snow
While crimson dawn in scarlet rays
Glimmers the face of morning’s haze
As new day smiles on golden glow
On whirling winds white flurries blow
Autumn's remnants in frozen throe
While winter shudders frosted glaze
Where willows sway
Giggling blue streams struggle to flow
On thawing prairie’s splendid show
As snowflakes glisten parched malaise
Clueless that soon spring will amaze
When in meadows blossoms will grow
Where willows sway
Written: March 6, 2021
Submitted on November 11, 2022 to:
Placed 9th: 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 20 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Mark Toney
Placed 1st: All Yours (March 8) by Brian Strand
I love the way you melt into my eyes,
And speak to me in fluency unheard,
That says to me your lust is on the rise,
My body and my mind by you quite stirred.
Impassioned arms, we're craving hot embrace,
And right before our yearning lips do kiss,
Ignited heat of heartbeats face to face,
We linger in this moment of pre-bliss.
You take me o'er the moon my shooting star,
To galaxies and realms our Milky Way,
In velvet nights of endless repertoire,
On astral planes besprinkled with risque.
Exotic dance in swirls of ecstasy,
That whirl us to new heights so breathlessly.
Susan Ashley
November 11, 2017
~ Second Place ~
Contest: Any Poem Won in a Contest in November (not from mine)
Sponsor: Laura Loo
~ Fifth Place ~
Premiere Contest: November 2017
Sponsor: Brian Strand
laden in the semblance of the lifeless
i curled my mind, nesting in the umbrage
of memories that haunt more than touch
unable to soar within the wind's of time
she begged me to fly, wrap my wings around faith
offer her comfort, make promises she knows i can't keep
yet my words fall darkened like november days upon her deafness
my shoulders carry her weight as her silence screams aloud
i see the bony fingers of darkness pointing
at yet another encompassed in my coalition
she knows he's come for her, i see the fear
in her downcast eyes, as tears trail my back
i pretend to be tethered on strings of hope
ensconce my fears with factitious smiles
praying she doesn't see the forlorn looming
as i suppress my own tears through a stammer of words
while cursing death beneath my breath, unsettled within
i clamber the ground on deflected knees, hands enclosed
in sullenness my words are uplifted on a zephyr of last breaths
bore of a dozen souls lost as i withdrawal in this unrest of fate once more
November 11, 2019
Poems flowing from my heart
Words filling sheets of paper
Feelings pouring through stanzas
Until rhymes make sense
Who says what should be written
Who says what should be felt
Only who writes knows the first
Only who reads capture the last
My words can resonate in some hearts
It can pass unfelt through the rest
It'll grow roots in someone's lives
It'll be ignored by the mass
And that's okay, you see
Because it's impossible to please everyone
I hope who matters will read
And my words will have a life of their own...
****
November 11, 2016
Written: November 11, 2023
____________________________________________________
Zeal, which requires forbearance as its root,
Akin to a home built upon sleek clay
Yet, as brave as all the walls on the route
And its high spires proudly rise to the sky.
Though skilled creators leave behind a trail,
Aesthetic pyrrhic shapes on every hand.
Shining sculptures in shady nooks prevail
And waterfalls dance in some pastiche stands.
Yet, when a gloomy easterly breeze blows,
The worst wind blows, and dewy showers fall.
Always defeating a hindrance that flows
Then! The ornate design crumbles and crawls.
Earning love spells the skill to endure pain.
Masonry-like friendship called to remain
The clay goes round and round, on the Potters wheel
With gentle touches, and pressures he creates what he feels
One is a bowl for eating soup, another a cup for drinking tea
Each one is crafted uniquely special, showing his individuality.
Handled with care by the Potter, while still in a fragile state
The Potter continues to mold, until it reaches a hardened shape.
And then the formed handiwork, is set aside alone to dehumidify
Slowly one by one he is joined in like company, no need to cry.
And then to the kiln to be purified, tested in superheated fire
When they're out they are all polished, to a beauty that inspires
When the Potter's done with the clay, it becomes a useful vessel
We are like clay in God's hands, with our imperfections we wrestle.
Our weaknesses, our wrong desires, at times may overwhelm us
Our lack of faith, and hardened hearts, could scheme and impel us
To be used for ugly purposes, which were not intentionally made
We ruin our fragile selves, putting the haughty ego on display.
We know the Potter does not change his immutable eternal purpose
It is us, who must submit, to doing God's will, because it's worth it.
Let him mold you for an honourable purpose!
John Derek Hamilton November 11, 2015
~Veteran's Day Tribute~
(Hotan)
It's Veteran's day
Today we honour all the
Living military veterans
For they do
Today remember
Their bravery
And their sacrifice
We're so proud of all
American Veterans from all wars
They keep us safe, free.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
Copyright@2015
November.11.2015
~Authors Notes:
~On November, 11, 2015... here in the USA, we celebrate "Veteran's Day"
Please remember and pay honor to all our American men and women in the Military, the Air force, the Navy etc...from the very long past, to the present and future generations. They sacrifice a lot and some have sacrificed it all ...they give it all they have... and too many have given it their all....their own very lives.
Please support all our American troops in any way you can not just this day, today, but everyday.
Against a browning hill
oak trees' bleeding limbs are stretched;
some drops release to softly fall
some cling to dry encrusted scars.
A few short months and we will walk
beneath the springing trees
marking their swords of thinnest green
stabbing at the stars.
And so, life seasons make their rounds
in nature and in men
the flower wilts, the rose is pruned,
the leaves must fall again.
Everything of lasting worth
contains a seed of loss;
on young love's throbbing circlet
hangs a bitter cross.
We will walk life's lanes together,
cherishing this pain we share
for spring will come tomorrow
and bloom on our despair.
Copyright, November 11, 2014
Variations on the Malay Pantun : The Old Man and the Short Story - VII-IX Continued
for Georges VOISSET, the "Master Keeper-Nurturer" of the Malay Pantun
Check out: www.stateless.mysite.com/Pantouns-20-Aout-2017.pdf
(The pantun line varies between 8 and 12 syllables and is most commonly found in the anonymous quatrain form. Cf " Poietics of the Pantun ", pp. 49-67 in T. Wignesan. Sporadic Striving amid Echoed Voices, Mirrored Images and Stereotypic Posturing in Malaysian-Singaporean Literatures. Allahabad : Cyberwit, 2008, xix-244p.)
VII
The One-Act Play's the favourite Old Men's roman fleuve
Experience shows Old Men how to keep the Wench in hell
They know how to stoke the Imagination with love
They need no how-to softwares to write a novel
VIII
The One-Act Play they say is still Old Men's mainstay
Though on Freytag's Triangle they slip down climax
The Wench cannot make Old Men still come up their way
Not so the Youngster his horns gore Wench's false syntax
IX
The Wench always seeks to milk Old Men in side-burns
Old Men know One-Act Plays don't box-office burgeon
Nor drips invested in banks ensure big returns
Not so the Youngster who banks his bit in oven
© T. Wignesan - Paris, November 11, 2018
Waking on this grey fall morning;
in the air there lies a warning;
rising angst as fears aborning;
feeling late November’s chill.
Darkened clouds obscure the daybreak,
as I nurse this aging headache;
warmer days are but a keepsake
gone forever, summer’s thrill.
Thinking back as springtime’s grooming
brought me hope with nature’s blooming;
summer’s warmth left me assuming
that forever youth would last.
Suddenly there came September
causing bygones I remember;
now November’s dying ember
leaves me longing for the past.
Damning is this aging season;
robbing hopes with truthful treason;
greying dreams are now the reason
that I’m feeling nature’s warn.
Looking long into the mirror,
aging lines becoming clearer;
end of year is drawing nearer
on this late November morn.
November 11, 2020
In sheep's clothing they infiltrate, call you mate, lie in wait;
these sly wolves who seek to harm and disarm with charm.
It's a clever deed, founded in greed and meant to mislead.
Their nakedness would reveal the heart of steel they conceal.
Search behind the glint in their eyes to see their lies and alibis
Strip vile ones naked of that pseudo smile, glimpse their guile
Lay bare the amiable mask they wear. They will dare to ensnare.
Don't be naive and believe words spewed by those who decieve.
It's not uncouth to play the sleuth and expose the naked truth
of those who stalk and walk about while praising with sweet talk.
Don't be a fool thinking they're cool. It's a heap of wolfen stool.
Be shrewed! Denude the lewd ones so you don't get screwed.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
November 11, 2016
Naked Contest
Anthony Slausen
Sailing Beyond My Dreams
Sailing deeply into my dreams—
All night long, I could sense it,
The ocean in its pure magnificence and majestic wonder.
I smelled Nature’s soft salt from the sea in the air,
Savoring complete its true sensorial magic and delight.
I heard the rhythmic melody of the waves breaking at the beach.
I heard the wind’s sonorous echo loud and clear,
And felt the force of its glorious power and pitch,
Whilst nurturing its earthly promise for a most exciting day!
And now I was finally on the ship—
With its big white sails,
Along with all other people
Who share the same goal.
Despite of any differences, different jobs, and families,
We all are joined together on this unique sailing trip.
Everyone is excited,
And full of hope for a wonderful day!
And now the ocean itself seemed to be very
Excited, full of enchanted hopes and dreams,
Whilst looking forward to everything,
And to what each new day may bring!
And more and more and more—
With every movement of the ship,
I could sense, see, and palpably feel a mystical
Dancing with the waves and the wind
In the midst of this great ocean entire;
And then, I could feel it again:
Freedom, total precious freedom!
And now, at the very same time—
Everybody on this magical ship,
Is so familiar and close together
In this marvelous joint venture!
At this special moment of divine
Wonder and purity,
The idea of God’s own creation
Presents itself with an absolute clarity:
A sense and realization of total freedom,
With all earthly elements arrayed in their
Purest and most radiant nature!
I’m part of this fabulous and fantastic adventure,
In each and every moment—
Yet, at the same time,
I’m never, ever alone!
I’m part of the people—
I’m part of everything—
And each and every element and aspect of what
God in His most holy and divine grace meant
When He created this miraculous earth!
I am at peace. Here I am. Right now.
Gary Bateman and Ingrid Krukenberg-Bateman
A Collaborated Poem, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
November 11, 2016 (Free Verse)
Henri held me to his heart and then let me go,
he ran away from me and I was left weeping;
your so beautiful, he said, with those eyes that glow,
he packed all his bags and left when I was sleeping.
He ran away from me and I was left weeping,
the note said, I'm a creep, a weirdo, a freak;
he packed all his bags and left when I was sleeping,
I'm not good enough, he wrote. Now my life is bleak.
The note said, I'm a creep, a weirdo, a freak,
I have fallen, fallen into a deep sadness;
I'm not good enough, he wrote. Now my life is bleak,
so dark, an empty canvas and I talk madness.
I have fallen, fallen into a deep sadness,
my life is a black void because now I have gone blind;
so dark, an empty canvas and I talk madness,
we were special, perfect, yet he left me behind.
Life is a black void because now I have gone blind,
your so beautiful, he said, with those eyes that glow;
we were special, perfect, yet he left me behind,
Henri held me to his heart and then let me go.
_________________________
November 11, 2016
Poetry/Pantoum/He Let Me Go
Copyright Protected, ID 16-849-037-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, Creep
sponsor, Silent One
Second Place
Inspired by the lyrics and song, Creep by Radio Head