Best Pounded Poems
One day when I was walking
inside a wood alone,
admiring the autumn trees,
I found a big flat stone.
It beckoned me to sit awhile -
and so I wrote a poem.
Another time while driving,
in a mighty storm I feared,
rain pounded down, but later on
a rainbow then appeared.
With gratitude, I hurried home,
and so I wrote a poem.
A boy I once thought loved me
to whom I bared my soul
rejected me most cruelly.
When heartache took its toll,
I needed to release my grief,
and so I wrote a poem.
Another boy that loved me true
brought happiness to me.
And others – friends and kin of mine:
each made a memory
I wanted to preserve in ink,
and so I wrote a poem.
Some social issues boil my blood
and things I find absurd
can put me in saracastic mode
and craving to be heard.
I wanted to convey my thoughts,
and so I wrote a poem.
Oct. 11, 2020 for the "And So I Wrote A Poem" Contest of John Lawless
Categories:
pounded, write,
Form:
Rhyme
Dare We Beat Evil With Truth And A Heavy Sledge
Fresh rain pounded out cleaning again our Mother earth
above squirrels chattering for all they are worth
what matters is in this life we simply obey
do our very best and sometimes we kneel to pray
for guidance and follow the dear heaven-sent light
develop fully our brains to see with true sight
see glittering stars above, know our God is love
face off squarely and with heart deal world's push and shove
such gives us dear Lord's blessings and truth to walk straight
walk proud as we live, remember it's not too late
share our happiness with family and our friends
with conviction know Heaven be ours in the end.
Dare we beat evil with truth and a heavy sledge.
With our faith know wisdom and truth gives us the edge.
Robert J. Lindley, Sonnet
Oct. 27th, 1979, age 25
Categories:
pounded, deep, devotion, god, heaven,
Form:
Sonnet
Eternity within your grasp
My plea? To undo the clasp
Let Desire wash away
Tomorrow and yesterday
Every other thought and dream
Meaningless I make them seem
Had you let the floodgates go
Oh, what pleasure you would know
But you let the moment pass
Tranquility came softly by
Sweet promise with you to lie
A scent full of serenity
Permeating entity
It caressed your very skin
But you didn’t let it in
No, you let the moment pass
Passion demands obeisance
Set to conquer your essence
In fevered pitch of a storm
To tempt you in every form
Fantasies of every kind
Unleashed frenzy of the mind
Transformed into what is real
But you were afraid to feel
To be tossed around and worn
To be completely reborn
Pounded by a wanton need
Every craving to be freed
Coaxed to burst into flame
But fear made your wild heart tame
And you let the moment pass
Love came knocking at your door
To bequeath a kiss and more
Calling in angelic chime
Faithful pledge denying time
Bonding of a soul to soul
Golden chance to become…whole
Promise true to last and last
But you let the moment pass
Now you beg and kneel to pray
For Him to open the way
You cajole powers that be
Somehow to change destiny
Before that moment to stand
Hold it safely in your hand
To seize me, the source of these
Let passion and love to please
To capture that golden time
Where all could fall into rhyme
Oh, my love, it will not be
My broken heart cannot see
My way through the halls of time
When I begged to make you mine
And now, my love, alas, alas
I must let this moment pass
In tears I let this moment……..P A S S
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Categories:
pounded, leaving, sad love,
Form:
Rhyme
Those designated raindrops
the sky must have saved for two
I kissed you in the daisy field
the rain soaked us through and through
Together we ran for shelter
moving quickly to the barn
I was thankful for those raindrops
as we hastened arm in arm
Sure the sky had coaxed us
to pleasure it opened the door
The sweet smell of hay around us
made me want you more and more
Those designated raindrops
pounded loudly on ancient wood
We removed all our wet clothing
I said we shouldn’t you said we should
As I gazed upon your beauty
my true passion became proof
Designated rain brought us together
Tap, tap, tapping on the roof.
Thanks to Elsa Rosee, her title “Designated Raindrops” inspired this piece.
Categories:
pounded, desire, passion,
Form:
Quatrain
When wands of beauty spell the core of heart
a rapture gasped and pounded into me
my vision I long to capture in art
with hands of poetry dipped into glee.
When music flows through the chambers of mind
no sounds heard but steps of the soul in trance
as a glow of joy through the soul would glide
the self whirls and twirls in a divine dance.
When smitten with supernal sensations
mysteries, you seek to perceive and frame
taste sweet pains to reach higher dimensions
the soul is deeply moved by light and flame.
Ever, the heart fill and the mind inspire
With abiding thirst, to quench and admire.
April 24th, 2019
Categories:
pounded, appreciation, art, beauty, emotions,
Form:
Sonnet
Christmas carols are being sung,
As bells are joyfully being rung,
Heralding the Christ Child’s birth,
As Christmas Day, we celebrate with mirth.
But lets think of Joseph and Mary now,
As they must find an Inn, they vow.
All are full, where will they go,
As Mary is nigh, a holy child to bestow.
A stable they see before them,
With sheep and lambs, they hurry in,
The time is almost now,
When many holy men will bow.
A manger is turned into a crib,
A bird above sings cheep, cheep, cheep,
Straw, Joseph lays in the manger,
The baby cries,
This story I have often heard,
Tears always fill my eyes.
A star shines brightly in the sky,
Three wise men see it way up high.
They follow it to the holy babe,
Who with miracles one day,
Would pave the way,
For faith in ever lasting life.
The Wise Men from the East they came
With one ambition,
Gold, frankincense and myrrh they brought,
To honor the Christ child
Was their mission.
Shepherds saw the star and also came
To Bethlehem to bring the Christ child
Gifts of faith and love, gratitude
And devotion, all spiritual gifts,
The distance traveled by these lowly
Folk my soul did stir,
My spirit pounded, His birth heralded
With heavenly angelic flair.
As the Christ child grew into a man,
Jesus his name, He sent forth
Disciples of his faith,
Who spread the Christian faith,
As he so often preached and saith.
Categories:
pounded, christmas,
Form:
Rhyme
The routine ride home from a neighboring town, seemed different today.
As I glanced at the dirty, sandy spot left on the usually spotless black leather seat beside me,
I felt almost ashamed of the warm smile that crossed my face..
But that's how I felt.
Content some how.......
No radio blaring as usual. Just thinking of Ernie and his stories.
Wondering what that look was, I saw deep in his eyes.
Scared eyes..yet not scary. Eyes that had seen too much maybe, who couldn't seem to find home.
The cardboard sign simply said east. He was sitting atop a dirty, dark roll of gathered belongings at the only stop light in town. It was one of those sunrises that make you feel small. Pinks..purples..glassy blue..sun rays shooting through scattered clouds like golden fingers pointing straight to heaven. As I sat waiting for the light to change, I noticed this guy noticed it too! I don't see many hitchhikers in our small town and the words pounded into my head since birth kept ringing over and over. Never talk to strangers...don't do it!
Ernie is sitting next to me holding his dirty rolled up blanket protectively in his lap and
I'm at the drive through at McDonald's. Three sausage biscuits please..I take mine and hand the bag to Ernie who looked like a skeleton lost under layers of old wrinkled clothes. Kind, hollow eyes thank me as he rolls the top of the bag down tightly and asks if he can please save his for later. I can't speak and hope he doesn't notice tears running down my cheeks. He must , for he breaks the silence by telling me of his years on the road, although I didn't ask. He speaks intelligently of the sights and places I've always intended to visit some day. His words bring to life the adventures of meeting all kinds of people - good and bad - all over the country, but Ernie didn't tell me why he lived life on the road.
Later, he shook my hand and said goodbye.
As he stood there, that last look we shared..he smiled - I cried.
I thought I was going to help a lonely man, but he helped me........
©Donna Jones
10-16-2013
Categories:
pounded, introspection, loneliness,
Form:
Free verse
It'd been one of the most bizarre days; downright crazy
so I had a martini, maybe four, so things got kinda hazy
I fumbled in my wallet so I could pay my pricey bar tab
Friends thought I had too many, so they put me in a cab
I stumbled up the steps. It seems walking was a chore
Couldn't find my key, so I tried beating down the door
Her screeches of "Where the bloody hell have ya been?"
Pounded in my head, making me sorry that I'd come in.
She hissed, then off to the kitchen she foolishly prattled
With horrendous noises, pots and pans were being rattled
My head was sorely throbbing so I begged her to be quiet
She screamed, "Don't yell at me! Blame your liquid diet!"
She banged a bowl of something down on the table cloth.
I weaved my way to a chair as my mouth began to froth
Put my head in my hands when the room started spinning
Caught a glimpse of that evil woman. Yeah, she was grinning
A mound of muck she'd plunked down right in front of me
looked like it should still be swimming in the salty sea
It smelled vile and disgusting... nauseatingly atrocious
I gagged and turned away, that's when Liz became ferocious
I couldn't move an inch to find my way back to the couch
I was a brick, held by mortar. My wife was being a grouch
but I couldn't find the strength to flee. I felt far too dizzy
My turn to shout, "Can you just stop your naggin', Lizzie?"
I didn't mean to say it, and my words came out so slurred
My vision was fuzzy. Everything was clouded and blurred
Something was staring up at me while awful music played
That's when I saw green heads and grew appallingly afraid
Whether fantasy or reality, frogs had escaped from a pond
These were fugly creatures. From evil they'd been spawned
I was being serenaded by a quartet of deep croaking voices
So suffers the drunken man while his heartless wife rejoices
I crawled to bed when I couldn't take the harmony any more
Lizzie punched me and said, "Wake up if you're gonna snore."
I tripped down the stairs, woke the dog and made him bark
Left the wife and found a bench to sleep it off in the park
Categories:
pounded, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
fo'c·'sle /'fohksel/ noun deriv: forecastle
1. the forward part of a ship below the deck, traditionally used as the crew's living quarters.
2. historical: a raised deck at the front of a ship.
With the equinox illuminating a fortnight of recovery
On pelts spread like Ionian jars left askew,
My flame-keep sparked alight against the doldrums of
Greed. Stagnant and fetid.
My bark beats out a call stretched
Skin-tight over the sea’s virgin core
And sets trust aflame.
Ashes collected into the collated casks and
Corked with animus, Moon Girl pounded on.
Drumming a dirge on the tanner's own flesh.
Pounding the seed of echoing hope.
Pounding the corpus beat of life anew.
Those echoed my own harmony and emptied my ears.
My tunes would now be true and crisp.
My struggle to syncopate the middle eight
Was like on the saltchuck the time before.
Before we crossed the bar,
Breakers chasing, pounding aft of stern.
Now in the glow of the coal oil lamp
Sat The Dane who came to trade.
He mumbled a Chinookian curse and winced.
He sensed my mariner's cred, how I lit my smoke;
Muscle memory and addiction married in my subconscious.
But His eyes would never sense the venomous flow
Of the seabreak distant,
Like hounds baying to the highway of stars
And up to the dunes ran with phosphorescent faces
Fermenting the blackness.
Hell-hounds bounding.
Lungs pounding.
Driving on.
River may lick Disappointment’s shanks
But Drake’s gold remains unfound.
The cavities carved along the capes
Echo an emptied ethos and sapped spirit
Which salal and sage cannot clense.
Walk with me now Sister Ilchee.
Beat your dirge
Along the pock-marked ports of plunder
Laid before the flattened corpse of
Ebbing freedom found.
Categories:
pounded, boat, endurance, history, native
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
I stubbed my toe ...
(I do this a lot since turning fifty-five,
when everything I picked up to read began going to
arm's length in order to be visible,
and "readers" became a permanent style change -
I see things in the lower part of my
vision through wire-rimmed lenses that ride low
on my nose, and the mid-to-upper
views are naked eye, hence my feet are nearer
to objects than they seem,
and my podiatrical digits pay the price)
... and though this particular piggy-pounding
was as intensely painful and bloody as any of the myriad
bashings that preceded it, and while the air around me
reverberated just as rhythmically as it ever had with
streams of well-placed and frustration-relieving profanity,
and though my fists pounded just as relentlessly against
my thighs in anguish as they ever had before, (the purple/
black damage there to be tended to at a later date), and
while my face grew as contorted and red as was humanly
possible, THIS specific stubbing, was entirely different ...
... for when the aforementioned processes had run their
rather ugly (and noisy) courses, THIS time I smiled,
reached for my sublimely-timed Frozen Blue Margarita,
raised it to the direction of the accident itself, offered
a heartfelt blessing to that marvelous twilight air, and
TOASTED the very object I had stubbed it on ... a tree.
But you see, THIS tree was surrounded by cool, white
quartz sand, was near a lagoon that shimmered with the
colors of a peacock, and was festooned quite wonderfully
and perfectly and tropically, with PALMS ...
... battered toes ... be damned! ;-)
Categories:
pounded, adventure, appreciation, beach, pain,
Form:
Free verse
Within the creeping shadows,
do you think you can find me?
Before chaos implodes my soul ~
I’m lost amongst childhood
memories, pounded to ash and dust,
clouding my sight,
as silence stifles my screams.
Whilst rivulets of water collect
around cracked soles,
cold liquid rushes
with each word left unsaid,
rising as foreboding
talons scrape against the ballast
stones of despair.
Spiritual hunger gnaws at my insides,
pain filling a closing throat.
O Helios Flare,
burning the crystalline odyssey,
sailing through sinister sapphires ~
I let my muse
spill cues of clemency,
allowing the salt of stillness
to kiss the bronze bones
beneath my quivering skin.
As I taste the f e a r s ,
the trembling turmeric
of the sun I once loved ~
soaked in
t e a r s of the dragon,
for you and for me.
Yet will the green-eyed gales
ever know, ever feel,
the truth I have traced?
The caged nightmare
that bound my gossamer,
leaf-like wings,
taming me to a gruesome game
of bleeding blame and bruises,
as though I were fated
by the blaze of kismet ~
to be the chained dreamer,
drowning in darkness,
choking on unspoken sorrow,
suffocating on splitting stars,
oblivious to the opalescent
shimmers of moonlight
singing within these vain veins…
So tonight, in muted midnight,
I write ~ and I weave ~
swaying to sulfur-laced,
gustless breezes,
all whilst the choir of dead dreams
serenades abounded hopes,
departed in fractured equilibrium.
No longer able to stay
afloat amongst raging riptides
of repressed trauma, I plummet
into the seas of tranquility,
hoping to emerge
b a p t i z e d by the
empathetic estuaries
flowing through heavens...
Categories:
pounded, dark, gothic, imagery, introspection,
Form:
Free verse
HORSE
Hell-bent stallion muscles led the mustangs through the plain,
On their heels rode hard a hired man –his job to rope the best--
Rearing high the stallion—urging speed as autumn winds dance thru his mane.
Sheets of lighting limned silhouettes as they pounded toward the west--
Enchanted now the man reined in—this day let beauty rule his breast.
Categories:
pounded, animal, beauty,
Form:
Acrostic
Mama held me close to her bosom
wouldn't let me go astray
she shook the cradle of civilization
and to her wayward offspring
she paid attention.
She added a tinge of color to the cheeks of some
and tinted plenty with even more
for identification, as to whom they belonged.
While her purported gaze
stored us from mediocrity
she whispered silent pants
when our future's prowess
begun to shiver she remained astute.
Mana Africa! I call you by this name
You've nullified all bleak spectrum
situations bestowed on us
when frequent ill-health
pounded on our weary hearts
you trembled --never loss guard
We are forever indebted to your
unflinching affirmation of sheer solidarity
Mana Africa!
your goodwill seizes not to elude
Capricious speeches we confer
as we orate about the trying times
The soundbites of your caresses will never
be deserted; let alone our appraisal of celerity
The best of we your “Adeptus Children”
have supplied the melatonin
from your sacred womb
and you have followed us with
love and self determination
as we have toiled on foreign soil
Then as we have been scattered
to the four corners;
Innately we have held on to our sanity.
Stayed in tuned to our intuition
as we have maintained circadian rhythms
and overcame enough, clinging to
our dignity in one hand and our
lives in the other, still to rise above.
Nana has taught us to endure
to be courageous, outrageously
courageous we have been.
even as we achieved
Our circadian rhythms were off beat.
Sacrifices only a mother would make
from the alchemy of adoration comes her love
self-determination is the water of her blood
and she the blood in our veins
the blood passed on...a mother’s blood...
Mana Africa
Ase’
A collaberatetion withYoung Prince Kennedy from Ghana and Mama Oladeji aka Vicki Acquah
Categories:
pounded, beautiful, inspiration, poetry, poets,
Form:
Verse
Black Diamond Night
Life is a cruel wench, a beckoning tramp, she is.
Sprawling wide open to draw us into her erotic nectar.
She whispers lurid words which promise to forestall
The imminent erosion, of illusionary perfection.
The promise of a tomorrow? Few have the inherent structure,
To challenge her guile, humming quiet, sweet victory.
Only the ancient one, who hides beneath our vision,
When wrenched from the rock, is still perfect in her imperfection.
Dawn loses its battle to dusk, and returns again to be defeated
In an endless, biblical battle. The waves wash up on the shore
Wrenching the sands from pounded beaches; only to spew up
Again and be dumped ashore by the evenings rushing tides.
I lie on my back, on a beach, gazing up at dark stars,
On this black diamond night, sadly, wiser.
Brenda Molmod Atry 8/14/2012
Categories:
pounded, introspection, life, nature,
Form:
Free verse
The sand is swept with gleams of light,
pale moonbeams burst where wavelets crest
about sea turtles seeking nest.
Soft seas are flat and calm tonight
beneath the light of stars; on land
she digs an egg womb out of sand.
Before impending winds take flight
the dawn reveals her scrabbled walk
of mother love; how nature talks.
Sea turtle pounded, stormy plight,
small beach creatures in fright, agape;
the loggerhead cannot escape.
A tropical cyclone's sad blight
has swept her nest and eggs apart;
the beach displays her broken heart.
The sand is swept with gleams of light,
soft seas are flat and calm tonight
before impending winds take flight.
Sea turtle pounded, stormy plight,
a topical cyclone's sad blight.
Copyright, November 18, 2017
Faye Lanham Gibson
Categories:
pounded, beach, natural disasters, nature,
Form:
Rhyme