Best Rite Of Passage Poems
Rite Of Passage
*
My Walk to Remember
My father takes my hand,
tucks it in the crook of his arm
and smiles at me as we walk through
the old pasture that has been transformed
into an outdoor chapel
Tears roll down his face
with each paced step we take,
towards the alter, the pastor
And the hopeful face of my
of my husband to be
His grip tightens on my hand
as the congregation stands
and all eyes turn towards our progression
as the clouds give way to the
warming April sun.
I recall the pungent, smoky scent of
the tanned buckskins we wore,
see the blue cone of the tepee with
lodge poles reaching towards the pale blue sky
the red and white bunting my sister
so carefully wrapped around the fence posts
My Beloved’s eyes shining with
promise, hope and love
and the Indian flute music that
drifted on the tangy spring air
marking my rite of passage from
Daughter to Wife.
i journey chasing
imaginary wisps, in
reality bound.
We seem to have it all
As we want for nothing
In the darkness of the womb
We are evicted into the light
Sadness, then happiness
Unaware of the looming doom
We seem to have it all-
Sadness, then happiness
Cloudy-vorfreude abloom
We hustle, we jump huddles
We cry, we hate, while loving
Then the reaper to the tomb
I taught my son to shave today
Whiskers only he can see
The reflection in the mirror was
A yesteryear one of me
So serious and timidly
Careful with every move
He rinsed away the remaining suds
And again his face was smooth
I taught my son to shave today
With a solidly steady hand
He walked in my bathroom a little boy
And walked out a proud young man
Is it any wonder that on a recruit's first day of service he is befuddled?
From day one he's told to do things by the numbers and his brain is muddled!
From the moment he stepped off the bus, mean ol' sergeants began to yell!
Sergeants, it seemed, were born to make life for raw recruits a living 'ell!
He was herded to the barbershop where he was shorn of all his hair!
He was as bald as a billiard ball, but the barbers didn't seem to care!
Next on his rite of passage was to strip bare as the day he was delivered,
To be poked, prodded and given shots as he moved along and shivered!
Sergeants double-timed him to the quartermaster to be issued all his gear,
Still smarting from all those shots he'd just received in his arms and rear!
He drew a gun, socks, drawers, uniforms and a couple of pairs of boots,
Then the sergeants taught him close order drill and how to make salutes!
The next stop was at the mess hall where cooks concocted dubious fare,
Mysterious vittles that in no way with his mom's cooking would compare!
He was double-timed to his barracks where he was assigned a sagging cot.
Along with fifty snoring and snorting troops, this was to be his hapless lot!
He aspired to be a fighter pilot but the tests he couldn't comprehend,
So he was assigned to the good ol' ground pounding infantry in the end!
At the sound of "Taps" he felt mighty blue as he collapsed on his bunk.
He was disillusioned with the whole affair and was in a dreadful funk!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Last Rite of Passage
(for Elizabeth) 30th January 03:11am
Through towering colonnades of stars
She rises with the daybreak's fire,
As angels strum on lute and lyre
And frost sparkles like fractured glass;
And when dark clouds have filled your eyes
Pray do not yield to let them cry;
For she is where the white doves fly
Amid the glades of Paradise.
Yes, I love you child
more than you'll ever know
Although you don't understand me right now
because you're only one-year-old
Rest assured,
rest assured
Yes, I love you dear
more than you could possibly know
Even though you're smarter than me
when I was ten-years-old
Keep your heart,
keep it pure
Yes, I love you daughter
in every way you now know
Because your love has surpassed mine
now that you're twenty-years-old
Always believe
love endures
Dedicated to my beloved daughter Sade
“The streams are in my veins”
quote from the sponsor
Guided
Through the ages
Endowing the future
An heir aroused by sage wisdom
Ancestral blood pumps and streams through my veins
A pulsating rhythm from the heart
through life’s restless currents,
A destiny
Guided
Date: August 5, 2022
For: Let your muse be inspired ~ R form poetry contest
Sponsored by: Constance LaFrance
Form: Rictameter
Syllables verified on howmanysyllables.com
Placed 2nd in contest
mountain of esteem
low valley of perceptions
platonic plateau
Somewhere between ordinary and special.
The paradox of metaphysical conceit
optimism from the divine,finite to
infinite,two sides of vanity as eathly time
passes.Touch and taste the tender the
vulnerable time of careless youth,this
product of the moment..
elusive yet larger than life.
Hear me recite from my 4000+ PS anthology on youtube under my pen name ichthyschiro..
catch my short forms @strandpoet on twitter
read my Christian&Poetry kindle guides on amazon
He salutes the mountains Tehachapi to the west
San Gabriel and San Bernardino to the south
This is his rite of passage
His coming of age
How he’s yearned
For his spiritual journey
To become a man
Thirsting to prove his bravery
Alone he wanders the barren Mojave
Facing the elements
And challenges head on
Datura in hand for nights of visions
He'll forge his unique one-on-one bond
With the universe and its mysteries
Bam bam bam echoes of drumming
Till the spirits of his ancestors
The lingering chants of Navaho
Guide him to the oasis of manhood
AP: Honorable Mention 2020, Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on October 22, 2018 for contest MID OCTOBER 2018 sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - RANKED 1ST
Rite of Passage
Ebon skin debutante
contemplating spring’s arrival,
counting blossom petals.
There was insurgency-
in white night.
Moon will stay to witness
the murder
of a golden leaf.
What was the promise of a ripe
language ? The yellow thrust ?
Keeping a date with death was not all important.
There were
lots of poems to be underlined,
preened and straightened. The dirt had
accumulated. A metaphor
will remove the stains.
Any confession will
take away the mystry. Who killed
the nothing ?
Unrelenting
the apples were crashing.
Satish Verma
The rite of passage
The old green wagon moves a life
Heads appear like nodding gulls
Eyes cast down searching cracked flags
Hopes from people sadly to be missed.
Un-walked limestone worn and smooth
Names unknown pronounced with care
Cats are watching ears laid flat
Hoping for a swift return.
Birnbeck sits in swathes of grey
Awash with things that crawled the tide
Calloused hands help downward steps
Keeping faith on steady legs.
In time with autisms dragging feet
Not knowing still how words are said
The backward journey seems so long
Help shunned by one straight eye.
Early smells of flowering mint
Pervade young senses drawn to home
Ancient trees clasp hands above while
Rooks berate a passage walked that
Knowingly follows time worn trails.
Kerb-stones line an unknown road that
Reach horizon's fading edges
Above a time worn scaffold sways
Perhaps to halt a wayward course.
Earth and ochres mix like blood
Healing scars sewn up in haste
That keep a soul from breaking up
Not caring should a life be lost.
Ink stained papers edges torn
Keep note of any ill thought word
Caen stone gently touched with love
Abate a sense of shame and loss.
Behind a broken brick façade
Held in place with hair and sand
Cements a quilt of truth and lies
Not yet for want of faith or feeling.
Unwanted dreams await their time
Held up by benches warped and bent
Each stroke and cut so carefully wrought
Helps sanity to keep its changing form
To live a life that can't be shared.