Best Remorselessly Poems
Mute
but immutable.
Unmoving, unmoveable;
timeless, yet tireless.
Solitary stalwart sentinel
surveils undulating horizon.
Aberrant, achromatic clouds
pock-mark the skies, as distant
rumblings herald his adversary's
latest gambit in their age-old conflict.
The wrath of a thousand crashing,
clashing, thrashing fists batter
against the beleaguered sentry.
Ceaselessly, remorselessly,
the maelstrom assails him.
But the foundations are firm and
noble gatekeeper stands steadfast.
Single-minded of purpose, placid
custodian morphs into combatant as
his luminous, voluminous blade carves
luminescent arcs through chthonic cloak.
Tenebrous tendrils wither and dissipate,
impotent under intense lambent onslaught.
His victory is only fleeting, as vanquished
foes are summarily supplanted by more of
their ilk in a seemingly continual surge.
Again and again, over and over, tormentor
presses the attack, exploiting any weakness.
Over and over, again and again, valiant warden
repels the barrage and despatches his enemies.
And so the pattern repeats endlessly, unabated,
as these eternal opponents jostle for position
in a perpetual cycle of aggression and defence.
Until eventually, finally, ultimately, the stale-mate
is broken; when Tempest's tantrum is tamed and
Blizzard's battalions have been banished, all is calm.
Tranquillity is able to reassert herself and order has
finally been restored; at least for the foreseeable future.
Obligations fulfilled, the triumphant Guardian can now rest.
Until the need arises again, until he's called upon once more,
he will wait patiently, watch diligently, in unflagging vigilance.
Forever resolute, a beacon of sanctuary, a symbol of hope, his is a
thankless task, but the Protector of Mariners will always be needed.
-----------------------------------
(C) John C Michaels, 27 July 2017
For Eve Roper's "Lighthouse" Contest.
(1st Place)
Categories:
remorselessly, light, metaphor, ocean, sea,
Form:
Free verse
"A mother’s love for her child is like nothing else in the world. It knows no law, no pity, it dares all things and crushes down remorselessly all that stands in its path.” Agatha Christie
Beautiful Sadness
I raised my little girl from birth
And through the years her special mirth
Has brought such joy, now I'm aware
Of things we may no longer share.
It breaks my heart she's moved away.
My quiet tears are shed each day
For when I see a youth like she
I recall how things used to be.
My grandchild too that I miss so
She's seven, growing fast I know,
Maybe Christmas we all may meet
And it will be a special treat.
A beautiful sadness will remain
Until I see them both again.
7-20-19
Writing Challenge 2, July 2019-
Melancholy- Poetry Contest~Third Place~
Sponsor Dear Heart
3. Beautiful Sadness
Categories:
remorselessly, daughter, granddaughter, lonely, longing,
Form:
Couplet
In England’s pleasant pastures amid the free wild flowers
Lie pagan ways the wise ones do not mock
And one adept at harnessing these ancient rural powers
Was Oggwool Fleece, the black sheep of the flock
Oggwool was old, much older than the old oak it was said
Beneath whose boughs the dark sheep’s plans are sealed
‘Twas said the sheep had come back from the other side of dead
With the darkness in that corner of the field.
The farm hands better knew to venture in the oak’s strange shade
Or to the long grass that the darkness gripped
Where Oggwool lurked amid the spells and potions he had made
A sheep unshorn and magically undipped.
Not limited by four hooves in working his deft skill
Unhindered in ambitious sheepish plans
Harnessing the dark elves to do his dark sheep will
Dexterously with little dark elf hands.
From that darkened corner of that English country field
His influence extends itself outside
His arcane woolly web through which his mystic powers wield
Reaching parts and persons spread worldwide
He has extensive vineyards in Italy and Spain,
He has mining operations in Peru
He owns a flock of ostriches down in the Ukraine
(Although he never quite intended to)
He’s engineering world events on scales beyond the ken
He has his hooves in business of all kinds
He interferes remorselessly in world affairs of men
With night-time thoughts drip-fed to human minds
Little green men fly through space in saucers flat and round
On interstellar missions without cease
But on their furthest journey yet, their enterprise is bound
To the ever growing plans of Oggwool Fleece
The politicians spin their words and armies shoulder arms
And yet do not beyond their small acts see
But Oggwool Fleece with thistle skills and other sheepwise charms
Is planning how to rule a galaxy!
Categories:
remorselessly, adventure, animals, business, fantasy,
Form:
Rhyme
“The Lost Daughter”
Thursday walked through the doors on a Tuesday
She sat in the Waiting Room,
the place smelled too sterile,
Antiseptic wash,
rank clean with soaps of fine lyes
no rugs to sweep bulldust under
such shiny spotless floors,
All open doors
Effective, efficient,
cold and distant
No blow flies
Time ticking raw.
Saturday was far away
Learning about "policy"
and how to "fairly" play,
walking down bustling University Halls
shining bright sun,
traversing all manners of shade
The Lost Daughter
looked in the bathroom mirror
Hazel Green eyes double take
she did gaze
Occasionally she heard Thursday calling her name
She turned on the faucets,
washed her hands,
singing a song about
"A Brand New Day"
turned her back to better things, and
swiftly walked out the swinging door
into the fray.
The Lost Daughter
left on a Saturday
She watched 3
dreams slip away
How to communicate
all that she wanted to say
Love was all she possessed
THE biggest gift,
to leave on their pillows
She blew them her kiss
an imprint on small brains
Like "Wind in the Willows"
“Take my hand”, He said,
“no need to worry, although it's too soon,
we will work out a way”.
“You’re up next,” the matron relayed, “let’s get you ready”.
The Lost Daughter sucked in the Aether and breathed. She replied,
“Bring it on, I’m game”.
(Lovejoy-Burton/April 2018)
For K, M, & G x
"A mother's love for her child is like nothing else in the world. It knows no law, no pity, it dares all things and crushes down remorselessly all that stands in its path." Agatha Christie
"Mother is the name for God in the lips and hearts of little children."
William Makepeace Thackeray
"Sonnet III", William Shakespeare
Categories:
remorselessly, daughter, life, love, mother,
Form:
Free verse
-- Re: Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas, Rue de Fleurus #27, Paris --
What would Gertrude. What, Gertrude.What, Gertie?Have thought.Have thought what thought?Thought thought driving,forward,remorselessly.Remorseless Remorse? Forward.Never reverse;no reverse.No.No remorse.
Remorseless,spurning reverse,seated.High!Seated high in Auntie.Then in Godiva seated. Looming.Enormous.
Looming enormous.Unsinister presence. Certain presence.Definite.Definitely not sinister. Positively looming;enormous in brown. Brown,
in brown corduroy,driving Paris.
In Paris,through Paris.Looming high in Paris in Godiva.With Alice,
quiet beside her. Quiet; always, Alice. Alice always.
And zipping, about -- coming to Rue de Fleurus 27.
Zipping to Rue de Fleurus.To 27. And Alice so able.
Able Alice, each a.m. transcribing.Able Alice typing.Automatic Gertrude.
Typing Gertrude.Great Gertrude.GeniusGertrude.Talking Gertrude.
Genius talking.Great brown Gertrude; Gertie, to Alice.
Absorbing, talking, buying art --- buying Matisse.
Absorbing Matisse.Showing Matisse.Banishing Matisse.
Selling Matisse,collecting Picasso.Great Gertrude -- genius Gertrude
at court, holding court at Rue de Fleurus 27.
And Leo.Gone Leo.No Leo at Rue de Fleurus. Not at 27
After Leo, after Mr. Stein, after brother Leo. But there was Alice.
Alice was there Among Braques.And Cezanne.
(Not Matisse.)No longer Matisse, but Picasso.
And Picassos, Picassos, Picassos!
And Alice; alongside, was Alice.Next to, was Alice.
Alice next Gertrude,Gertie, G. --- Gertrude, Miss Stein.
Genius Gertrude Stein Quiet Alice always.
And a great Gertrude. A great brown Gertrude. A leviathan.
A passing ship; a great leviathan.Gertie, a genius.
A hugeness.A shibboleth.But to Alice,
just Gertie.
Categories:
remorselessly, art, dedication, devotion, history,
Form:
Prose Poetry
The Boy from the Tail End of the Goldhawk Road
1.
The Boy from the Tail End of the Goldhawk Road
I was born Carl Robert Halling at the tail end of the Goldhawk Road which runs through Shepherds Bush in west London and which in the mid 1960s served as one of the great centres of the Mod movement, whose dandified acolytes were infamous for their vanity and hedonism.
I was raised in nearby Bedford Park, a comparatively genteel district close to the largely working class area of South Acton.
My first school was the Lycee Francais du Kensington du Sud, and by the time I was 4 years old, I was already bilingual.
I wasted little time at the Lycee in establishing a reputation as a troublemaker, a popular one admittedly, but a troublemaker nonetheless, constantly in trouble.
I was popular, that much is certain, not just with girls but boys too and blessed with a vivid imagination but I was a near impossible pupil which caused my poor mother a good deal of heartache, and on at least one occasion she drove me home in tears.
I seemed born to controversy, being impatient, disobedient, mischievous, remorselessly attention-seeking, a true imp of a child, on which the full force of the innate depravity of Man appeared to have landed.
At the same time, I was friendly, sincere and open, a good friend, and well-liked.
My Judo teacher at the Budokan in Hammersmith once told someone no doubt with a sickly feeling in the pit of his stomach that whenever he heard me he always knew it was Saturday.
I was no less a trial in the quaint little back streets of suburban west London.
My roughness could hardly have been helped by the popular music of the times.
By the time it came for me to leave the Lycee my scholastic standing had improved a little, and after some months spent at Davies Preparatory School, I received the most glittering school report of my entire young life; and was actually declared an excellent pupil.
Categories:
remorselessly, child, childhood, children, england,
Form:
Free verse
One does not tremble before a man she esteems
Certainly not before the one she finds dignified
No; it would be contrary to Mother Nature herself
It is before a dangerous man that one trembles!
And it is from a murderous man that one flees!
There are times when storms rage and rivers swell
Times, too, when earth quakes strike remorselessly
Times when the sun bakes all around it wickedly
And there are times when a conflagration occurs
Rendering man, woman, child and beast rootless
If one could control the winds and arrest the tsunami
Many a stranded woman would not have left home
If one could summon the rain clouds to donate a tear
In regular fashion and without undue discrimination
Even Darfur and Ethiopia and Arabia would rejoice
Is she from Mars that you should call her alien?
Is she a child of a beast that you should deny her?
Did she choose to be born poor that you should shun her?
Oh lucky children in Europe and America and elsewhere!
Find in your golden hearts room for just one more refugee!
Categories:
remorselessly, giving, heart, hope, people,
Form:
Free verse
Held fast!
Ruthlessly trapped in a white sepulchred vice
that slowly, inexorably, crushes all hope.
Starving we wait, with lips black and caked,
all frozen in a wasteland of ice and snow;
revealing desolation and utter despair that
relentlessly flows, to an uncertain death.
We, officers and men, who’d aspired so high,
had failed to spot the strange irony
of our two ships’ names – ‘Erebus’ and ‘Terror’!
Darkness and horror now stalks each soul,
icily gripping us, in manacled madness.
Naked we entered this imperfect world,
born to long suffering and adversity.
Dare we bear arms against this dread fate?
Or, meekly succumb to what destiny holds,
shorn now of all means, to sustain our lives?
In the bleakness and sorrow of that long winter’s night,
we watched the fell stars of mighty Ursa,
circling, like bears, in the spangled blackness,
remorselessly hunting each human soul
…to a grizzled end.
Categories:
remorselessly, death, history,
Form:
Free verse
Is God a Woman?
Love.
Nothing is fair
in love and war.
Mother
carries the load
ripped open ripe torn
gives birth.
Who’s the better
stronger one
in this war?
Puts her child first.
Swallows all burning
stones thrown
ignores trolls, fights all...
Child first.
First born.
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
gvlm.
llb.
“God is Love God is War”
https://youtu.be/mhrSUE__oc8
“Mother is the name for God
in the lips and hearts of little children.”
William Makepeace Thackeray
“A Mother’s love for her child
is like nothing else in the world.
It knows no law, no pity, it dares all things
and crushes down remorselessly
all that stands in its path.”
Agatha Christie
"Now what to do?
I know your crew,
and each one got stripes
But I'm young see,
and one thing you not --
Hungry...
It's either or,
in the Game
from the door
Let's see
who'll be the first
to find the floor..."
"I sent my Soul through the Invisible,
Some letter of that After-life to spell:
And by and by my Soul return'd to me,
And answer'd "I Myself am Heav'n and Hell:"
The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam
Categories:
remorselessly, i am, woman,
Form:
Free verse
Malicious Intent >
Reclusive con Artists, who appear to take no rest
ProwLing through codes
Crushing anyone who'd dare contest
This is perfection, I suppose
The consistently coherent cooperation betWeen mAn and machine
An artificial understanding - an accomplice unknown
They relY on evasion, but program to attack
PerhapS a grand scale heist - performed silently
Under the unforgiving blackened hat
Uniting against titans
As "We Are The law!"
Should you ever Cross tHem, your world wIll fall
Those devious codes
Adware, malware, and raNsomware
Will drown your screen in red
Imagine them as insects
LeachinG, vampiric
Dripping blood of a familiar crimson red
Under the radar they go
Remorselessly busting locks
Corrupting, decrypting - accessing your data vault
No time to react - it’s all over in a flash
You will relinquish control, and surrender to our clicks
We do not forgive
We do not forget
Categories:
remorselessly, computer, corruption, evil, fear,
Form:
Rhyme
I remember when Alexander of Macaedon
approached me in Siwa as a supplicant soldier,
he was so young yet so wet with war blood
32 years old and the most powerful king on the planet,
Alex entered my chamber unarmed and unassuming
he was rather like a boy unbruised by fear,
everything in the world was at his command
but there were questions that he alone could not conquer,
he did indeed ask me, about his family tree
whether he descended rightly, from godly seed,
I arose from my seer's seat
my silken green and gold gown
hugging my body thickly off the shoulders,
stepping down deftly to meet his rare eyes,
we stood face to face
like two fires fuelled by eachother's breaths,
I told him to give me his hand
to which he did
because he knew to trust me,
I unsheathed a tiny dagger
that I kept against my stomach
and sliced his fingertip remorselessly
we smiled at one another,
gripping his hand tightly
I brang his finger to my mouth
as the blood dribbled quickly down to both our hands,
the taste made me close my eyes
I was in instant ecstasy,
I knew now what he thought he knew,
and I told him he was not the first nor the last
that another king shall come in the future
whom will complete the Holy Kingdom...
J.A.B.
Categories:
remorselessly, creation,
Form:
Epic
Dear Mr president
I seem to be in a spot of bother,
Would you please grant me a pardon
before you depart the oval room,
Seeking a change of reality
I ran away and joined the circus
well actually it was more a sideshow
Ringmaster said I’d fit in better with the midget contortionist,
however I was drawn towards the Siamese triplets,
joined together at their knees and elbows since birth
We got up to all sorts of hi jinx and Shenanigans life was great,
til the one in the middle decided to leave our troupe,
Me being their best friend they asked would I do the separation,
eager to help them I agreed to perform the operation
Not having a clue about surgery
I decided to knock them out with a sledgehammer
borrowed from the strongman,
and use the knife throwers sharpest blades,
I butchered them remorselessly for hours,
was a very difficult operation,
but wholly satisfying for me anyway,
Unfortunately but not unexpectedly,
the middle one suffered the most cuts and bled out pretty quick,
the other two died days later in multiple beds,
I was put in some hospital for the criminally insane,
and doped up to my eyeballs on potent medication,
actually settled in quite nicely here,
Worse part though is I had a fantastic combover like yours
now they shave my head every other day
Some say they’ll never let me out,
only occasionally do I think of going on killing rampages,
I’m not getting on to well with the parole board, “mostly democrats”
but hope to marry the midget contortionist, on our next imaginary visit,
The circus was disbanded, shortly after,
and they all live on welfare now,
bunch of really great guys.
I’m a republican
PARDON GRANTED
By David Kavanagh
Categories:
remorselessly, abuse, allusion, america, analogy,
Form:
Free verse
Sealed in white cotton
Bathed in SSRIs
My nights have forgotten dream.
Notebooks stand at the ready each morning,
Uselessly covered in dust.
Once I filled them remorselessly
With remains of the strange woman,
The snake-haired temptress,
The ashen guardians walking in shadows.
Now, I know only that memories
Fail me each dawn.
Each day, each night
I wait, anticipating irruption.
Each morning I wake to just routine,
just chores, just the next piece of reason.
Will the night play dead until I die?
Will the guests of my buried soul
Escape their early grave?
Am I condemned to an artless list?
No. No. And no again.
This blank page
Demands writing.
A rite of sacrifice must begin -
So from this death
Dream spring again.
Categories:
remorselessly, imagination, introspection, loss, recovery
Form:
Free verse
The Ides of March, oh woe betide
Twas on this day that Caesar died
Stabbed by his double-dealing men
Remorselessly, time and again.
Twenty-three times the knives were thrust;
Take care therefore in whom ye trust.
09.04.2022
Bite Size Poem No.43 Poetry Contest
Sponsor - Line Gauthier
Categories:
remorselessly, murder,
Form:
Rhyme
Wait Death
When in a hurriedly hurricane
An egg expounding hope
Slips, falls and cracks open
The mother bird stands helpless
Shall she weep for a child to come?
As if the invidious kite has done
The evil she witnesses
When a green growing fruit drops
It has denied a man its joy
It’s tree mother the fulfilling joy
Even in the face of drought
The planted seed cries for rain
When an owl sings
In the daylight
Again, a soul, a young soul goes
With bitterness and languish
Causing and abusing fate
He designs to renovate the Milky Way
A golden egg of a cock
Even the Angels Strike
Remorselessly death prepares for another
Do not dig out the yam in May
For you shall eat but okra- like yam
Categories:
remorselessly, loss, mystery, mother,
Form:
Enclosed Rhyme