Best Rallied Poems
...inspired by 'The Salamander' by C.S. Lewis
The sun bore down with blinding rays,
the oceans boiled and came to nought,
it was withal the end of days
with every living creature caught,
when from the rocks, agile, adept,
a tiny lizard meekly crept.
With roughened skin and beady eye
he reconnoitered through the haze,
no stranger to a blazing sky
it lay in shade, at last to laze,
it raised his head, albeit weak,
and rallied, then began to speak.
"The Future of Mankind is sealed,
the devil's bell has tolled and won,
no recompense, no last appeal,
eclipsed before you have begun
to fight disease and lawlessness,
the hallmarks of your wickedness.
No light will break from yonder stars
to help you in your hour of need,
your destiny these blighted scars
that seal your folly and your greed,
alone with your predicament,
God's only live experiment.
To mess with Nature to your shame,
to disregard His Holy Name,
to vilify the Golden Rule
will label you the Biggest Fool,
death comes quick as you will see,
the bell has tolled, and tolled for thee."
The power of nature has ravaged the Japanese shore,
Leaving in its wake devastation and unimaginable gore.
The mettle of this gentle people has been tested, it is true,
But next spring, they know that cherry blossoms will bloom anew!
Alas, whole villages along that rugged coast were torn asunder,
As the raging tsunami raced inland gobbling up its plunder.
When all hope was lost and they thought they'd surely meet their doom,
They were cheered knowing that cherry blossoms once again would bloom!
This stalwart people who'd suffered the ravages of falling shell and bomb
Dropped from silver birds, faced another holocaust with great aplomb.
With little but hope they vowed to rebuild their lives ever keeping in view,
The cherry blossoms that would bloom come next spring with dainty hue!
Alas, the 'quake leveled schools, ancient temples and magnificent torii,
But this patient people will restore them once again to their former glory!
They will persevere again and again as surely as the rising sun at dawn,
To enjoy another season of delicate cherry blossoms 'til their scent is gone!
The brotherhood of nations rallied as one to provide succor with speed.
It was neighbor helping neighbor in keeping with the Master's creed!
Even though the nation was rocked with misery, shock and searing pain,
Out of the depths of disaster the cherry blossoms will bloom once again!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 8 in Deb Guzzi's "Tribute To Japan" Contest - May 2011
sandcastle
grains of quartz sculpture
surrender
a ghost of past strength
sand storm
soft sands harmless
until rallied by whipping winds
rising in power
Susan Ashley
October 18, 2021
~ Seventh Place ~
Premiere Contest: Lune (Mixed Pair)
Sponsor: William Kekaula
sandcastle Lune: (syllable based: 5-3-5; PS)
sandstorm Lune: (word based: 3-5-3)
Murdered me with your love
Murdered me with your lies
I could see the rage when I looked into your eyes
You told me that you loved me
but I just wanted to leave.
"Why can't you just be happy" you ask
While pushing me to my knees
Always playing the victim
You're good at playing that game
Lies of mistreatment; lies and untruths
All I ever wanted was away from your abuse.
That night I planned to leave
That night my plan was perfect
But you found out and rallied your crew
You said I couldn't leave, you said we weren't through
I managed to escape you
And locked myself in a room
But you had other plans
And I knew my fate was doomed
You pryed open my door
And I tried to keep it shut
But your crew breached the second entry
And I knew my time was up
You stood behind the gun;
You pointed it in my direction
You pulled the trigger;
And took my life
You took it with just one finger
You claimed my death was suicide
But we both know the truth
You continue to play the victim
But now they're on to you!
Written By: Kristin Bordelon
Oh, for the sparrow
who feathers his journey
rallied by sunshine
chosen by air
Capturing breeze
unaware of his being
free of intention
free of despair
Oh, for the sparrow
who weathers his beauty
in balance with nature
for delicate grace
Gentle and soothing
in care of the heavens
to live for the ages
for all to embrace
A father and his daughter
playing badminton
in a weedy backyard without a net.
How many times
can the battering back-and-
forth connect to send a plastic
shuttlecock flying? Stroke,
that’s 70, return again
on a high easy arc, 71, while
Mom fixes dinner (meatloaf
again, count the grocery
pennies, 79 a pound, and
a husband with nothing better
to do after work than hit plastic
birdies).
But they’re actual
flying birds, 81, these
soaring plastic wings
rallied by a father
and his daughter, 82, stroke
83, never
let it touch the ground
or you have to start
all over again
counting. Yesterday
they sailed to 99 before
dinner which is always
waiting.
…thirteen miners…
…only one survived…
…still clinging to life...
...with a history of violations...
It wasn’t West Virginia.
It was I.
And I’m taking the day off.
I know it won’t rhyme,
But I’ve been pummeled.
Run through the wringer.
It’ll be coffee now,
Black and bitter,
The way I like it.
Later, I’ll have some soup.
Chicken soup.
Chicken soup without the chicken.
Chicken soup without the broth.
I’ll just look at the can.
Art soup.
It wasn’t Warhol.
It was I.
…Sago Mine officials…
…two miles inside…
…280 feet down…
...Wall Street rallied on rumors…
… of sexual improprieties...
...deep discounts expected…
…news and talk all day…
…classical music all night…
But mostly just dead air.
…The president will be speaking later today...
...the leak came from a well-placed source…
It wasn’t his press secretary.
It was I,
…a suicide bomber in...
A place I can’t even pronounce.
Suicide?
In the realm of no-time,
Everything exists simultaneously,
Everywhere, nowhere.
Vast universes containing infinite sparks
Of universal consciousness
Erupting with intelligent randomness.
Everywhere.
Nowhere.
Nothing can be extinguished,
Merely transformed.
…Intifada…
…Gaza…
What does it matter?
It wasn’t Hamas.
It was I.
When Garrison Keillor Recites this poem
On Writer’s Almanac tonight,
He’ll speak different words
And attribute it to another author,
But that’s OK.
It wasn’t NPR.
It was I.
…thirteen miners…
… only one survived…
…still clinging to life...
...with a history of violations…
It wasn’t West Virginia.
It was I.
And I’m taking the day off.
As
it
was
that
in
my
pain
I
felt
the
agony.
Building
up
inside
me
like
a
Jericho
wall
that
refused
to
fall
was
my
misery.
I
forgot
the
names
of
those
who
shot
the
same
people
in
the
struggle
with
me.
It
was
never
discussed
how
we
can
get
focused
through
the
strain
of
the
chain.
The
Abels
of
the
Dutch
people
were
the
evil
spirits
that
murdered
a
Cain.
In
unsettled
homesteads
in
the
wilderness
of
pity
hanging
filthy
attire
on
trees.
Our
women
danced
for
their
men
and
their
women
cooled
our
faces
like
a
morning
breeze.
Through
your
many
outcast
brothers,you
created
a
vessel
that
spread
your
disease.
They
structured
gay
constitution
and
made
prostitution
businesses
out
our
sisters.
Established
churches
to
tutor
slaves
on
the
slave
trade
and
rapist
ministers.
For
long
have
we
endured
the
pain
not
insured
under
the
reign
of
terror.
Blood
has
been
spilled
and
my
fathers
raped
and
killed
trying
to
settle
the
error.
We
are
one
but
not
long
have
I
begun
seeing
black
in
this
bloody
mirror.
Color
is
just
a
craving
of
the
whitewashed
masses.
When
was
it
that
you
forced
Dutch
vocabulary
upon
the
dark
skinned
classes?
And
when
we
rallied
in
the
streets
against
it
you
chose
to
shoot
us.
Now
your
christian
institutions
are
trying
to
brain-
constitute
us.
If
war
was
never
the
motive
we
would've
saved
more
lives.
Now
you've
created
democracy
and
raped
our
wives.
From Heracles immortal line sprang Kings of Agiad
The blood of Gods and heroes in mortal flesh thus clad
And such was Leonidas, half brother to the King
Cleomenes of Sparta, of whom the poets sing
When came the call to Athens aid when none would take the stand
Leonidas Spartan stood, three hundred by his hand
‘We will take and hold the field against the Persian hordes
At Thermopylae prepared to die, we greet them with the sword.’
Thespian and Theban heard and rallied to the call
Their phalanx in the narrow pass an impenetrable wall.
Xerxes watched the waves of men diffuse against the might,
as Grecian stalwart heroes held, until the loss of light.
For two full days the Pass they held, whilst facing fearful odds,
until undone by Ephialtes, betrayer of the Gods.
Across the hills by mountain path were the valiant undone
And Leonidas understood the rearguard shield was gone
He called the valiant to his side and marked his standing stone
Let thespians and Thebans turn, here Sparta stands alone
Three hundred stood in scarlet lines their valiant death to wait
and leave the field upon their shields as every Spartans fate
Thus fell Leonidas King, who stood when none else dared
Defending Athens and all Greece lest dishonour ensnared
Remembered in the halls of Zeus with victors laurels bound
Three hundred stood three hundred fell and sanctified the ground
And thus the Delphic Oracle’s foretelling came to pass
That all of Sparta be destroyed or else King Leonidas
One year upon Plataea’s fields, with the final battle won
Remembered every Grecian heart this noble Spartan son
When she was 8,
You howled at the moon,
and caught the attention of the men in blue.
You steered across the line,
You argued, You spat
until the night sky faded into dawn,
and they deemed you worthy
of wandering home.
But in those hours of darkness,
she sat with an empty space on the blanket
looking up at the stars as fireworks
burst around her and
asked why you weren't there.
When she was 17,
You howled at the moon.
It was late and you had learned,
So you hung your head out the window
while the rain stung against your skin.
You taunted a cop,
You laughed, you puked,
As she fearfully drove you home.
In tears, she declared that she
could not leave you there alone.
You were her dad.
She stayed. She watched.
She wanted to be there...for you.
When she was 19,
You bought her some beer.
It was late. There were friends.
You felt like a kid again, partying with the crowd,
And you were a hit, the provider, the crazy one.
They rallied around as you slurred your words.
You laughed. They laughed. She laughed.
This was the way to have fun.
You explained that this was not
her first rodeo.
She was going to do what she was going to do
and you were going to be along at her side
As she howled at the moon.
When she was 23,
she howled at the moon.
Her skirt was short. Her top was low.
She danced. She drank.
And so did you.
You were guiding her, you said.
It was just good ol' fun.
Except it wasn't fun
when they pulled her out
of the mangled steel
and covered her face and shook their heads,
And now you howl at the moon,
deeply, sorrowfully, howl at the moon.
The dark crept with its black humor
Rallied at the little girls feet
Dared her to move by casting his shadow
Made of a witches broom and a boogeyman
He screamed at the trees and made the tremble
While she grabbed tighter her blanket
Said louder her prayers
That made the dark hiss and react
Moved his apparition under her bed
Then roun' to her closet
With his shady hands he triggers a sound almost like a creek
Lulled the chill bumps from her shoulders
Shut down the night-light
Making it dim and of no help
The black of night
Will laugh into the wolfs howl
Dominating the suns anticipated descend
Playground In My Mind
How you used to run around.
In every playground you could find.
As you used to laugh and play.
In your playground in my mind.
The games you used to love to play.
Pull me close then push away.
Telling me how much you cared.
Not meaning what you say.
The pleasure you got from my pain.
With your deceit and strife.
As you laughed and played.
In your playground in my life.
As you rallied all your troops.
So they told the same lies.
Begging me to came back.
As fake tears fell from your eyes.
The way you relished your success.
As you tore my world apart.
As you laughed and ran around.
In your playground in my heart.
With all the games behind me now.
I've found a way to heal.
And I found one that gives a damn.
For the way I feel.
Still the memory haunts me.
Every once in awhile.
Like every time I pray for you.
Or I see the devil smile.
Edwin C Hofert
Time, to buy our poppies
To remember once again
remember those who died for us
And those who were just maimed
We must also remember
Those, who lost their loved ones
Mothers, sister’s, daughters
Fathers, brothers, son's
What a lot of us can't imagine
What torment that must be
But they all gave their lives for us
To make our country free
In one hundred years
Two wars some endured
lost fathers in the 1st, sons in the last
This fighting is absurd
And still we send our menfolk
To fight the wars abroad
Please end this madness
I beg thee dear lord...
We think we're in recession
But do we really know
The hardships that our grandparents
Suffered against the foe
Bombed out of house and home
Nowhere else to go
Then all neighbours rallied round
To help they were not slow
Rationing came about
For food, for clothes, for fuel
From just scrag ends of meat
Made appetizing gruel
Women took over men’s jobs
In factories, farms and such
Blackouts, sirens, shelters
Hardship there was much
Army, air force and navy
Were not the only ones
But fire-fighters, nurses, doctors
Air raid wardens, everyone
They all played some part
In winning against the foe
Many lost their lives
A dreadful way to go
Some might say its better
To die instantly my friends
For many, many suffered
In agony till the end
We can’t possibly imagine
What it's like there at the front
Many months of fighting
With no end in sight
In trenches,
Your comrades all about you lying
Water logged and stinking,
Lying, crying, dying.
So please stand in silence
Remember, remember them
They fought for our freedom
Our women and our men
My darling husband, Gordon
I got a lot of response out of you today
Your smile lit up like the brightest sun
Your chuckles singing our their chorus of humour
Eyes twinkling with emotion
Overflowing with your evident love for me
You knew who I was the minute I came in
The penny dropped: "You are my wife!"
Said your eyes, speaking on behalf of your tongue
Unable to vocalise your feelings and desires
It pains me to hear your rattly breath
As you battle against yet another chest infection
It seems so unfair, my love
The medicine makes you better, and you relax
Then another attack pulls you under
I hear you had another turn
When your eyes behaved strangely
And you just weren't taking things in
But thanks be to God, it was quick
And you rallied back to the here and now
Despite these obstacles, my sweet
Your lips still know how to kiss!
The most tender terms of endearnment
Place themselves on my mouth
They confirm my hopes that you love me
Your Alzheimer's cannot win against your recognition
Love: One. Dementia: Nil!
But when tears spill from your eyes
My heart is torn into pieces
You cannot tell me what it is that's upset you
The salty liquid mingles together
As I lay my cheek against yours
The only thing I can do
Is give you my love
And pray for the day that all this will cease
And you take a ride on the carpet of freedom
Meanwhile we must cherish
Every precious moment of our time together
Your eternally loving wife, Diane
I had a lovely little doll got at the tender age of seven.
It was made of fine plastic, with twinkling eyes and golden hair.
At a time when my generation had not heard of Barbie dolls,
My uncle living abroad had gifted it which I held as most dear.
More than anything I treasured it and my friends envied me.
They always rallied around to see and hold it in their hands.
I carried it wherever I went and always slept clutching it.
With its possession, to my parents, I made no more demands.
It looked so pretty in her flitting blue eyes and ponytail.
Dressed in frilled skirt and blouse, she was a beauty and my all.
We were always together day in and out, so inseparable.
But as time skipped, she no more held me in thrall.
I slowly got over my obsession with toys and trinkets.
My bond with the doll grew thinner, I had diverse engagements.
I no more cared for my doll; it lay neglected in some dusty corner.
Seasons rolled and years speeded by, and life took new alignments.
I knew the annual clean-up of my house was long overdue.
Moving the trash, I saw my old doll in a junk box made of plywood.
The very sight brought a surge of sweeping emotions in me
Dusting it, I locked it up in my cabinet, a sweet reminder of my childhood!