Best Rampart Poems
Draw near and listen—
the interminable din—
thunderous and raging,
spindrift riven from
graybeards’ snowy crests,
that plunge at journey’s end,
their whitest teeth laid bare,
to gnash with boundless fury
on patient rampart of
unyielding stones,
their mottled skin
to smooth and polish,
that these might stand,
in reverent alarm,
never to be forgotten.
Toward God and His way to assured salvation
…affirming eternal power of regeneration
…asserting priceless redemption
…awakening through miraculous new creation…
His believers are we, trusting Him for our transformation!
Toward God by His Word that resounds His tender mercy
…refreshing souls with divine loving kindness and clemency
…rejuvenating spirits yearning for contentment sufficiency
…rekindling faith’s fervent fervency…
His followers are we, practicing His statutes’ policy!
Toward God Who grants pardon’s blissfulness
…directing us to confess our sinfulness
…demanding the need for worshipful earnestness
…disciplining disobedience through His righteousness...
His converts are we, casting to Him our haughtiness!
Toward God anchoring steadfastness upon His standard
…increasing effectiveness of each faithful steward
…insuring the diligent certainty of labour’s reward
…invigorating hope to keep on marching forward...
His servants are we, ushering the lost to His safeguard!
Toward God while walking along paths of wisdom
…bringing us to wondrousness of heavenly kingdom
…bracing our genuine altruism against selfish martyrdom
…beautifying character with patience midst spiritual boredom…
His seekers are we, triumphing in His truth-propped freedom!
Toward God as He leads us to His heart
…laying His perfect will upon our footsteps against temptation dart
…lightening vision to behold majestic eternity’s rampart
…lifting pursuits, surpassing worldly vanity start…
His learners are we, persevering to fulfill our devotion’s best part!
Toward God, admitting human flaws beseeching strength for rectitude
…satisfying our nourished well-being to exercise attitude of gratitude
…sanctifying conscience by wise admonitions surmounting vain platitude
…saturating us with His peace around prayer solitude…
His children are we, growing by grace for good testimony altitude!
*2Peter 3:18 But grow in grace, and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. To him be glory both now and for ever. Amen.
April 12, 2021
4th place, "Where are we Headed" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Unseeking Seeker; judged on 4/23/2021.
I keep tripping over hurdles
Barriers forged between our hearts
Walls of a garrisoned fortress
Lofty palisades I must ascend
without crawling on my knees
I admit my faults lie at ego depth
Perhaps it's why I expect too much of you
but I long for the affectionate touch
of your arms catching me when I stumble
and fall, dejected on the ground
When my patience ebbs like ocean tides
your emotions are concealed behind a veil
Please don't pull away from me. Stay,
and I'll soothe your troubled qualms
I keep tripping over hurdles
exposing the core of my darker side
that part of me I cannot hide from your eyes
Can you love me in spite of my flaws?
Will you be my refuge, an amorist crutch?
There's a battle line between us
but I don't recall waging war.
I fear my ways are much too strict
so I'll wave the flag of truce.
Spoils to the victors
when I've breached the final hurdle
With sighing breath across my syllables,
I'm pleading with you for another chance
Despite the way I've mistreated you
would you be a spark of light on my path?
Until I'm sure our love is realigned
I'll keep tripping over hurdles
across each rampart I approach
With hope, I'll reach your garden gate
and wait for your heart to open the door
December 6th, 2019
Pale Shelter Contest
by John Hamilton
IV. Interconnected Web
Teach your children the ethos of
the rampart-
of the earth under their feet.
Is it more than just soil? It's heaven —
The Chosen Hallowed Retreat
Where we connect
For you must see life as fully rich with
the resounding vibrations of our
kindred lives on this sacred earth.
Our temporary home.
For whatever happens to her
happens to our kindred race.
All life is connected. Wouldn't you agree?
For all life is like
blood that unites a family,
by a process of no creation.
For there is no division. One must see
Humanity and other forms of life
are knitted together...
by the fabric of existence.
Which are only a part of
circle of life cycle.
Each time we do, we are getting
our bodies intertwined.
Just like the Hopi who revere sacred mesas,
we must honor our...
Ancestral wisdom -
winding through desert canyons.
A sacred thread is planting -
our stories into the mother land.
Into the wind-carved rocks' etched. In coyotes'...
starry night songs!
We hear earth's eternal rhythms,
guiding us along.
Feel the warmth of the sun-soaked soil
beneath bare feet.
Perhaps, the cool, refreshing
touch of mountain -
stream water.
Let us smell the wild sage carried on
a gentle breeze.
And hear the wind swept leaves of
ancient trees.
In these moments, we connect to
the heartbeat of the earth.
As Katsina spirits teach through
their dances that
We are temporary guests
on this sacred land.
Yes, stewards of its beauty, bounty,
and balance. —
Our legacy layered by our
own deeds' hands.
Through each mindful step and every
gentle touch
We praise and honor
the interconnectedness web of life.
So Must Stop! and ask:
How now can we translate this
intimate and spiritual connection into
a harmonic coexistence and illiminate
the discordant strife?
I lost myself in the smile of your eyes
And found the world around would disappear
I welcomed your arms with all it implies
And felt the warmth of your smile coming near
To nourish my heart with love so it blooms
In my realm of brighter shades that was dark
To bring to it such vibrant colored plumes
And add beauty to this life we'll embark
Like thieves in the night treasures to capture
We will steal the days and build a rampart
And drink from the cup of passion's rapture
To run with the winds the winds are our heart
Whether dusk of dawn or a sunset's splay
Gave you my heart when I asked you to stay
3/16/18
One September morn, Barry is born, one day a little man that society will chastises every day, poisoned with dour memories of a life passing, staggers habitually along life’s broad way, yet still, he believes an ardent player of this earthly cast.
the mould human kind
every one naked the same
circumstance fate plays
One September morn Larry is born not a volunteer, into this place, no developing embryo given a democratic choice, but oh the joy the accolades, freedom of youth rampart significant, carte blanche credit card.
silver spoon protrudes
freewheeling society
so much to tire of
An unknown purpose aided each step, for Barry with holdall and worldly baggage around his neck, whilst trying to escape societies goals and social orders, life’s hypocrisy filed against this frail oppressed old man, living with a menial existence inside prejudiced borders.
daunting are the nights
beneath a blanket of fog
soul destroying dawns
Here Larry the mellow fellow who toast, boast every night drunk with his host, cocaine his specialty, whilst trying to escape societies goals and social orders, now his empire has closed the high life exposed a hobo a bench a lamppost his only light.
Barry and Larry
mix for the first time at the...
crematorium.
Entered 2022 Poetry marathon Mile 20
sponsor Mark Toney 12/11/2022
written 2021
The tide of life is turning
and rushing back to sea
Footprints on the wet sands
once left by you and me
Washed in tides
long swept away
In youthful quest
Of olden day
Those frolics with our
Children
The roaring of the sea
Our rushing toward the ocean
Hand in hand, it's you and me
Where love, has our youth fled to?
As we slower walk along?
And where has the wind taken
Our breath of joyous song?
But darling though the seagull's
We knew, long flown away
A far flung hope is rising
On the wing of a new day
And would I be, how could I be
That bride of yesteryear....
Washed way in earthbound vessel
Hiding every precious tear
But precious are the promises
And hopeful in my heart
One day will bring a world of joy
In heaven's sweet rampart
For now I'll hold you tightly
Beholding waves at sea
We hear the seagulls calling
Treasure coves of memory
Until that precious promise
Of that sweet new golden day
Our footprints in the desert sand
Till westward wind blows them away
Within the woods, stood a wall of stone
molded by hands from a distant time.
Though roughly hewn, it had endured.
What narratives could it tell of its past,
this ancient bulwark, built to last?
My fingers traced each pitted wound.
I wondered as to the tragic fate
of one missing mortared rock.
I dared to peer inside the hollow;
the scent of age overpowered me.
A sudden dizziness rattled my senses
with a brief glimpse of a long ago battle
when weapons pricked the rampart's bulk.
This bastion had served as a battlement,
a barricade between differences of opinions.
Was the victory worth the lives forsaken?
Because of it, were families torn apart?
With need to offer words of compensation.
I paid homage to the unyielding wall,
whispering, "Stand strong, brave soldier."
October 6, 2020 ~ A Wall in the Woods
Craig Cornish ~ Sponsor
Does not matter what they say..
Poetry is easy but it’s not poetry…
Hallmark cliché is not a poem I am afraid..
You can spot a poet.. By their words…
Spilt from lips with gusto and fervor!
Grotesquerie gavottes meandering rodents!
Leaving bubonic parasitic critiques!
Would you tell a painter how to paint!?
The pallet they should weave, hehehe…
They’re so underrated, non unique,
sad pathetic ghouls drifting morose,
through the catacombs of their souls,
now chests hollow as is their home,
to breath or hear or feel…. nevermore-
If you’re a poet I care naught your words,
if you’re a poet I care knot your form,
if you’re a poet I care not your sword,
I care that you lachrymose inked your scrawl,
and no one can rate and criticize art,
if they hate your work, remember,
they are critics not artist, ask yourself,
one simple solitary question……
Is it better than a soup can?
Wink*
I am supposed to statuesque a poet/poetess;
But it is not poetry if it is not left to be subjective,
that’s Hallmark and I am not interested in cards,
I am interested in filling hearts or tearing them apart,
metaphorical a woman on here I met is a rampart,
mellifluous canary with crystalline shards her arc,
shooting through the night, a bright light in the dark,
mahogany bonfire in the nigh, ember in the minds eye.
I rage, my need for you bleeding helpless
tied, bound by these silken ropes of love
my cries will never reach your side, my life
over the music that deafens my heartbeats
I stand mute and solo without you
till we belong to each other
even if that destroys who you are
you will only belong to our love
even if that kills us...
There is a riot in my heart exploding me apart
the burning blood of your beauty razing reason's rampart,
defenses devised by decades of destructive love
surround my soul with swords sharpened on evil known of,
I need you to breech the war barrior, to rescue my red potential
break the black bricks of the sorrow wall with a woman's wherewithal,
we will pay Fate's ransom for union legend
with unbroken breaths of lovers impassioned -
A Collaboration From The Quills Of Bindu & Justin
Claps of thunder, growling sighs
Crackling light spears, ruptured skies
Dark bruised smudges, jostling clouds
Wanton weaving, angry shrouds.
Water effusions, driving rain
Flooded fields, congested drains
Forcible winds, quaking leaves
Bending branches, bowing trees.
Birds are silent, shy dogs hide
Children reach for sheltering sides
Fish dive deeply, spiders curl
Senses dizzied, fearful swirls.
Clouds are broken, grinning sun
Arching eyebrow, rainbow tongue
Storm is humbled, joyous sounds
Love runs rampart, peace abounds
Can you get my point and drift?
It’s in my free verse and also rhyme.
They say ‘Life’s a beach’
I say, “All the time”
and there’s a beach for everyone, and all!
It accepts incoming the tidal withal.
From flotsam floating of every noxious kind,
Where you will beside the innocent the toxic find,
From grass,to plastic, garbage bags and all,
also the rancid sewers dark outfall,
And I see the littered beach
All covered & disfigured, spit headland and shoaly reach,
Then raised up with rampart fey
the most humongous tidal wave
And it is definitely and gravely shoreward bound,
Oh dear Lord, have mercy, I say,
For all of those who live nearby, and in the way
in Their lowly shed or fancy high-rise buys,
Already they suffer to live near this
Please avert your catalyst
oh!‘No’ says God, its course will run
its bounds and goals are set
As I set everyone,
Too much for me! my eyes I close
i just won’t look at scenes (that I suppose)
i await the crash! its deafening loud,
and I imagine the chaotic screaming crowd,
I wait ….. I wait….now look I must!
Before cold melts ice and rust becomes dust.
And What! before mine eyes a sight, the beach,
All pure grains of white, (are seen)
against verdant mounds of beryl green
The background sheds and townscape now stand serene;
The wave was a vision of God’s cleansing hour
Wrapt in an instant of unbridled power.
For the antiprigoligarchist was sent,
And the veil of worldly waste was rent.
There also is a literate beach
Where the antiprigoligarchist will also reach.
As antidote for pedantic bias, attention & thought
And scalar vision with true value nought
so with devoid headway misused opportunity
and selfish sway away! and
before the drift becomes a roar, better to
Clear such wasted ways from the literary shore.
a didactic poem
When eloquence leaves you a’wanting,
if verbal effluence you’re flaunting,
should your audience appear daunting,
kiss the Blarney Stone.
I climbed the circular tower,
reached the hundred ninety-third step,
and waded through unhurried queue.
I trembled with anxiety,
gasped for ev’ry uncertain breath,
and paused to view but then I knew.
Hidden underneath the rampart
this infamous bluestone will rest
I shan’t pursue my lips on blue.
When commonsense says, “No way”,
if plain prudence seeks delay,
should consequence have its say,
pass the Blarney stone.
6
You have stained stars in your eyes tonight,
a gold glitter asunder as vast as any Past
stuck fast on this moon light sight,
give me softly the sultry sigh of a woman's strong age,
I am not passing the page until the dire of dawn ushers me to the cage,
twinkles and sprinkles make for the tingles between you & I my Lady,
sparkles finite glow warm,
a silent swarm in thick air for our remote melody,
starvations lead to ovations from humbled hearts
searching blind for succulent cures
for a mad malady,
a kiss, calm as crystal and firm
like a promise pronounced proud
by a dreamy lover drives me happy,
My love, where are your f---ing fangs & whispy wings,
clever you are,like fire on ice,
playing nice but in disguise
choosing random nights,
a fickle nightingale setting sail to numerous posts and ports,
swift as thunder with brief endearings,
vanishing like a whisk whisper
and laughing lovingly,sparingly spry,
the companionship provided is priceless
with a somber cost,
a Providential promiscuity true & dry,
your absence and unpredictability
feeling cold as Aphrodite's icon
rough & rocky,
would Venus die, cry, or lie
if asked ardently why
She consumes the blood of my heart,
pitfalls for passions, enticements for indictments of innocence,
woman this carnival shocks me silly,
never the less, the beauty of you is boundless,
consequence forever in a lingering fragrence,
like a confused comet
I volunteered my vitality for your invitation
to a sheltered rampart,
deny me what you will, charge me as much you can,
for I am enthralled
by this romance and Virtuoso's dance -
J.A.B. 2003
It was a massive imposing dark castle,
A stronghold safe from invasions;
Fortified with a deep moat and stone rampart,
On the battements guards watched.
And in the dappled light of the chapel,
A lone girl with long raven hair wept;
She had been betrothed since her birth,
But she loved another.
Her family had come here for refuge,
And she had spent her life within;
She could hear her mother calling from the keep,
Running through the courtyard her hair was flying;
And in her hurry she ran right into his strong arms,
And suddenly he was kissing her.
And I kissed her deeply because I had to,
I had to understand the taste of her breath;
All her beautiful words haunt me to this day,
God's Angel of Mercy singing for me.
Unlike Odysseus' sirens with evil intent,
Her words healed my troubled heart;
Her eyes mended this broken man,
Oh her gracious touch.
Her relentless desire, it conquered me,
Never before had she acted this way;
It is as if she had suddenly become possessed,
These castle walls were her complete reality.
And I knew her blood belonged in this fortress,
Now only her name echoes in my soul.
______________________________
August 5, 2015
Poetry/Narrative/But She Loved Another
Copyright Protected, ID 15-697-718-0
All Rights Reserved.
Written under Pseudonym with Eric Brodie
For the contest, Partner Up,
sponsor, Shadow Hamilton
First Place