Best Rostrum Poems
A book that I plucked
from an antiquity of books
filled my nostrils
with a smell that I will always know
and always love.
This love cannot be explained,
but neither could any indifference.
At the back of the hall,
distant from and opposite to
the comical speaker's rostrum,
behind rows of chairs filled
with the attentive and the obliged
and the hands raised in angst
to express righteousness
and cleverness
(look at me ! hear me !),
I, too, would be righteous
and clever some day
(wasn't that clever ?),
but those dusty old books !
And who could forget God's hand ?
It thrust earthword,
its sword gleamed
a split second before cleaving
a wicked man in two,
skull to groin,
a dusty old book
among dusty old books,
explored with petrified daring
by fingers so tiny they're forgotten.
A platoon of books competing,
all to be explored in turn,
some more readily than others,
all old, all dusty, all so rich in scent,
none to be forgotten,
never to be forgotten.
5th July 2020
Categories:
rostrum, memory,
Form:
Free verse
HAIKU & TWO SENRYU
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
white sky... low the clouds
winter... stuck in a drift again
spring... where are you...
~~~
the bobbin dipper flies
below our secret rivers
spring... summer delight
~~~
ring ouzel... moorland
high craggy tors... upland moors
birding adventure
~~~
the avocet
fenland treasure... coastal dream
no spade required
~~~
harbinger of spring
declining population
drives birders cuckoo
~~~
be proud... sing aloud
needs no invitation
jenny wren is spring...
~~~
hedgerows... tinkling bells
charms of goldfinches rejoice
inviting springtime
~~~
a flash... gone... dived
a kingfisher fishing
the river ripples
~~~
look high to the sky
skylarks sing a challenge
give us back our land
~~~
hope... no... it must be
put nature on a rostrum
give back her freedom
~~~
look... oceans waves
on shores display their wisdom
ere we could read it
~~~
rock pools... origins
with good intent life explodes
evolution... real
~~~
our fate in our hands
as is... we will all perish
give nature a chance
~~~
A SENRYU
or
TWO
~~~~~~
no known foibles
maybe a spring twitcher
Maureen McGreavy
Jan Allison
a moral supporter
worth her words
Categories:
rostrum, nature,
Form:
Haiku
Written: July 17, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: X F Lacasse
******************
From the anvil of solar eclipse flame ~
Sunsmith struck with a mallet lit by light
Blows hump the sky ablaze by molten might—
a yellow nepenthe for summer's shame!
Sapphire sea warbles hymns amid her name
cy(press) woods rostrum by a hedge of white—
shades turned long as time that denied the night ~
Below straw frame—time seems to be the same.
She wafts the fruit till flesh begins to burst!
unbuttoning the orchards one by one —
her breath is spice, her (kiss) an early thirst ~
a blaze baptized in laughter, sweat, and sun
Yet 'neath her crown, a melancholy hides—
a knowing nod to how the sear subsides?
Categories:
rostrum, analogy, summer,
Form:
Sonnet
The fireplace kindle in the moonlight.
I am along deciphering the mind’s eye.
God is here with me tonight.
The popping flame was a yellow reddish fire.
The wood burned and the smell was a delight.
My thoughts were ablaze to set the Devil afire.
Of course, I will let Lucifer exist.
He is confrontational to my holiness.
In that God is the omnipotent, Satan is the Devil defeated.
Insofar as the world is perilous, many (as I) must conquer their demons by
rostrum of our crusade as a battle won.
In India, primitive to the philosophy of religion, the reality is profound.
Deities are of one and of all.
There is such a thing as the Christian Satan.
They are enemies to Brahmans, god-giants.
Demons are devils crackling vigor.
This campaign is of war not of battle.
The action plan is to deploy Christian powers.
Revelation statuses such.
The plague of our time is trinity.
Spheral by one Godhead organizes the consecrated force.
The mercenaries are on the battlefield of and for the Lord.
With giants and demons how the monkey king detonates causing the wrath of
God.
Demons are decapitated and bodies are slanged from here to yonder.
God bellowed, “We must behead the monkey king.
He is the demon of all entities.”
The lashes influence the giants lambastes.
The Monkey King’s demons had formed their attacks.
God’s giants’ impact condemns.
They beheaded the Monkey King.
______________________________________________
Penned January 17, 2015!
Categories:
rostrum, character, spoken word, strength,
Form:
Epic
Nature held a Beauty Pageant
Guess who was crowned a crest?
A flowery green meadow was the stage and rostrum
Watch who won the contest.
Well, the peacock from India was crowned beauty King
The bird of paradise from New Guinea became Beauty queen.
And last but not least was the Indian tiger, runner up
But care he for beauty that he might as well sup?
And what care any of them
for accolades, crown or cup?
Other contestants were the gorgeous leopards
and the flimsy beauteous butterflies
They'll be crowned
next time around.
For beauty tis rich in supplies.
But nature-lovers alone applauded the flamboyant winners
who gaily stood upon the flora
They did come out with 'flying colors'
Around them nature's beauty an aura.
Miss world bird of paradise yet unaware of her placing
The peacock endowed by God a crown
They might never know of this showcasing
At our staring, gawping, they might just frown!
Then there are those unsung unawarded yet perfect beauties
both among mortals and animals
who join no display contests nor pageants
yet are undeniably glamorous nonetheless
for beauty ain't exclusive
to önly beauty contestants.
Categories:
rostrum, animal, appreciation, beauty, creation,
Form:
Tazkira
High noon sun would soon turn
Her petite, ruddy face into one freckle
She rubbed the juice from a fresh lime
Across her brow so the bangs might bleach
The white sand brushed the strand
and aquamarine surf that cut a split on the Caye
reflected mint green off the lens of her Wayfarers
Almost lathered in coconut oil
Her cutis emitted the scent of sandalwood
And warm mackeroons
Her smile hinted of a sweet, pitted apricot
Its puckered core with eyes closed
Waiting for that first kiss
That would never come
I met her in the morning last week
On the corner of happy and chirpy
The day she tossed her cookies in the street
And swore off cashew wine and meat pie
Her tummy hadn’t been the same since;
The because of a picnic basket brimming
With plain yogurt and sourdough sticky buns
“Look at that phosphorescent fish” she exclaimed
Spurting seawater that had backed up
in the snorkel tube into my eyes, her mask
catawampus across her cheeks
“I think you mean fluorescent” retorted I
“it is all the same” she beamed
And smacked her face back into the water
I couldn’t help but chuckle
And dove down so she would not notice
Shadows off the palm leaves told me
It was time to head back to the water taxi
With what remained of her chartreuse
Lipstick, she now resembled a fried crustacean
It made me hungry and I longed for croutons
She either talked or sang something like
A muzzled version of Del Shannon’s “Down in the Boondocks”
The entire trip
When we docked her now blond locks
Sheared her rostrum and her
White teeth winked at me
Oh my …. Shall I say goodbye?
Categories:
rostrum, adventure, beach, humorous,
Form:
Light Verse
Dotard Trumpery used to disgust the "ery" excrescence ending his surname,
for apocope he approached Megan Trump and poached her maiden name,
to which Joshua Trump, her son naming after her, dare no longer lay claim,
because from then on he was reduced to campus bullies' fair game.
Pretending to be placatory, Dotard Trumpery had to invite
Joshua Trump to the Slayer-Of-The-Union site.
Trumpery, standing on his rock-and-roll rostrum, spieled song and dance,
Trump, seated off his opposite nostrum, cast ahead no glance;
Trumpery, haranguing high, may presume to be contagious,
Trump, lolling low, just continued to be contumacious;
Trumpery, in skittish stance, legs to prance,
Trump, in stolid trance, his head askance;
Trumpery, right hot, opened his mouth to smear shutters with sputter soars,
Trump, left cold, shut his eyes lest they be crisscrossed by sordid sores.
Impersonating Trump, Trumpery violated Trump's right of name;
Impugned due to Trumpery,Trumpp suffered long dark campus time.
trumpery blatherskite.
Categories:
rostrum, abuse, slam,
Form:
Prose Poetry
HOW I MANAGED not TO BE A DOC
You know something,
Me a thing, I think not worth than a farthing
was put in a college of Medicine.
Paternal honour intact was to be kept.
Heavy in heart and blurred in vision
When thought of those bespectacled sermons
On blood and urea, capillary and neuron.
I tugged at my mom, a deaf ear she gave.
Like a prep child, I crossed the day
For the doom to impend on my lovely day
On the calendar on the wall with landscapes gay.
Oh! All because my father loved me so.
On that day I stood on a rostrum
Feverish, next to a corpse bloated and grey
I was to say my name and greet the group.
But all I could choke out was a meek gibber.
I fell down with a thud,next to the corpse,
funny,all came running to the body lifeless,
for he was the specimen for one whole year.
The thing I knew next,
On my bed cozy I was
And I think I heard my father say,
Smiling,
‘Oh,It is all right my dear’!
Categories:
rostrum, education, funny, father, father,
Form:
Light Verse
IF EVER I HAD A COUNTRY - LXXVII
IF ever I had a country proud of its wall-less porous boundary
And if ever by no mistake of the Supreme High Command of the International Militaro-Business Conspiracy I were appointed the CHIEF TARIFF IMPOSER and Eminence Grise of and on all the self-righteous realms rocambolesque republics and renegade run-of-the-mill rotten rotting rostrum-raving riven ribald rascally rickety refugee-raised democracies
Mark my words I’ll put an end to the raping of my dearly-beloved national integrity by
One, importing all available rutting Queen Bees of the "Killer African Bees" and have them breed with local wasps of high pedigree in the front-line of battle along the Southern Border under every tree where I’d let Red Ant-Hills multiply free
Two, import Myanmar Pythons with a taste for digesting young fresh human flesh, mixed with the local brand of Everglades alligators, down the Mississippi and the Colorado River sprinkled liberally with the Grand Canyon brand of the Rattle-Snake with their tell-tale warning-rattle nipped off, together with the silent army of Black Widows clad in their enticing mantilla webs, as a second-line of defense against the illegal refugee
Next, if they still keep coming I’d roundup all the lazy good-for-nothing thick-maned Bisons of the prairies and have them lined up for a Charge-of-the- Heavy-Brigade stampede by whipping their asses to the sound of the Land of the Free
And if this doesn’t stem the tide of illegal immigrants, drug dealers and tourists with empty pockets, I’d call on the faithful Black and White striped Tribe of Appalachian SKUNKS with my tonitruant bugle, line them up so that their posteriors faced Tierra del Fuego and let them squirt to their hind-hearts’ desire even at the risk of driving the entire population out of the country
Yes Siree, this’s what I’d do as the Eminence Grise and Chief Imposer of Tariffs of My Beloved Contree
And this even if I never ever had no country worth saving for the ennui of a penny
(c) T. Wignesan - Paris, June 11, 2019
Categories:
rostrum, america, drug, humor, immigration,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
As my closed eyes open and the dream of my calves playing among the corals curtail,
I realize that my body is contiguiting the earth,
perhaps the shore,
because I can feel the sharps rays of the blazing sun puncture my tender skin.
Yes. It is the shore.
I have beached myself,
for I can feel the grains of sand resining to my throat rooves.
Ouch! There's a sudden ache in my rostrum.
OH those goddamn Dioxins and Furans!
Must have corrupted me when I ate those planktons for breakfast.
I am now running out of breath,
the sun is too coruscating and I'm dehydrating at an accelerated rate,
and and I'm drying out.
I know it.
I can feel it.
Are these my last moments?
Is this my destiny?
With an overly-dehydrating body and failing organs,
I decide to take one last walk down memory lane.
Oh my charming lady,
my adorable babies,
never will I consign to oblivion the wonderful aeon I had with my mates,
travelling in pods to outlying, faraway waters.
Ooh! I'm getting worse.
My breath is quickening,
it's almost over.
I see someone walking over to me,
perhaps a rescuer.
Looks like he's got his little daughter along with him.
Under the dazzling sun,
the tears of the little girl dry up leaving stains on her trepidated face.
Anytime now.
The little human places her soft palm on my paper-like body,
and whispers something which happens to be the last words I ever hear.
"Fishy? Why are you sleeping?"
As my shutters close and the seagulls await my death,
I fall into a deep slumber.
From which I will never awake.
Categories:
rostrum, death, depression, fish, sympathy,
Form:
Free verse
Amulet graced by gems
clad for stratum prow
tawny glyphs
margin of witticism
& quagmire
extravagant dictum
trivialize shores trails
summer ousted
& waves of wrangles
sundered the ocean
& swapped my spirit
in crimson burst
swirl to scatter
In demolishing ruins
& twilight crumble
slump of man
glittering Phoenix fire trail
scribble a cyan-xantos rhyme.
bore a shallow rostrum
defective soothsayer
haunts dreams?
hilltops & both
oceans & skies
cyclone of emotions
&
lethargic sadness
soul storm mulling.
5TH Place Contest winner
Written: July 19, 2022
A BRIAN STRAND PREMIERE CHOICE Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Categories:
rostrum, analogy, dedication, humanity, inspirational,
Form:
Free verse
Resourcing faith, resolve, resolve
conforming brace of how
consigning brackets of identity, not slow
the entry of concern, between friend's row!
Yet, still enduring, we are them, their vow
this loneness of reserve, the leader's power
conserves some owning of their toilsome plow,
ne'er freedom is their choice, we rostrum flow!
Conviction, is it changing, holding stow
I am in constant danger, yet I show
ne'er fault, impartiality must go,
involving loss, my prayer is fairness more!
Now, join some unity of truth, the platform's scroll
my life, your life, let virtue breech, not row
the national incentive, debt's bestow
nor words impounding, restoring condone!
The truth's reserve, secession's teaming call
that space of joining, allies not disown ~
my ally, we are here, this cost we know
security's contention grossly stalls!
Where action is the limit, we face haul
consulting with our interests, trusts install
that destiny, called choice, reverses, mauls
may just be my endowment, just my soul?
Or all mankind at purpose, answers hone
to this our enemy is still at throne
the sterile overstepping overthrow
this outright pose, this policy's control!
Erosion not the strength of freedom's prone
this break up, not my cause, as God, disown
still showing honor's back-up, not renown
in earnestness compile, nor allies roam!
Up front, an ever pressing, selfless stone
the brink of character, so evermore
that freshness could sow on, immortal's cone
true learning, listening, never cursing's thrown!
To test our weakness, I would cringe somehow
that courage, entity, seems all condone
is interference' monitor's bestow
I plant in some forgiveness factor's cull!
Diplomacy's contain, the jewels roll
ne'er in that wearing coat of idol's bloat
this right or wrong, my energy console
does eke not my transmission's holding core!
Categories:
rostrum, break up, character, today,
Form:
Monorhyme
Title: Unsettled Gain
A letter from moon came with hopeful
Scattering calm and peace for earth’s human beings
Opening window I found smile in face of the moon
Demanding surety of peace not only keeping words
Rays of the sun whipped encircling rostrum
Stop such non physical matter address, next
Bombs and bullets are today’s religion
Why you aren't understanding phases of human beings!
People say, hear, religion emerged from cowardice
Stop to allure me O sun, as you are your burn
You, cannot bring mild gentle numbness
Which requires through dialogue, peace, born
No, brother religion is gain of knowledge
To bring in rest for unsolicited mind and kind
To bring harness of unity and justification
I know more than you because bright reigns religion
A culture of natural brother hood accepting other dues
A pure science of trust and perfection at least to meet God in heart
Which enables to proclaim realisation of heaven or destination
Farther beyond human beings’ knowledge.
Categories:
rostrum, religion,
Form:
Blank verse
VERILY I STATE…
Celebrating enjoying life, I tolerate others’ leisure all the time.
I know people live for the sun to shine.
I just ask that if I respect your rights, you respect mine.
Toleration is a broad word.
I will narrow it down to liberality.
An instance of this is superlative.
Therefore, here is my list of munificence…
I can tolerate the world of indecency.
Many find this to be the sex industry.
*********** is for adults.
I tolerate because of law enforcement.
They do not allow this form of entertainment in the United States to mainstream.
They regulate this diligently.
As long as it is in a constructive mind, I can endure the test of time.
When you are worthy, I can sentient.
I will hug you with a mammoth love, ensuring you that you are exceptional.
You have your rite to the extreme, as long as you kept it law abiding.
Justice will prevail in self-defense.
When it does not, you must know why it didn’t.
Withstanding all the risks, threats, and dangers, I tolerate because that is the way
of a civilized universe.
With all said, I yield to see and embrace your rostrum of sustainability and universal
freedoms.
This is my philosophy on considerations, which is an understanding of indifference,
a factor to open-mindedness, and the allowance of the fulfillments of life.
Verily I state that tolerance is the rite.
Practice tolerance and be gratified.
_____________________________________|
Penned on June 05, 2014!
Categories:
rostrum, america, time, today, together,
Form:
Verse
CONCERTED STRUGGLE
Armed only with a thin baton to juggle
He faces an orchestrated struggle
Looks at the plan on the rostrum
Begins under breath with patrem-nostrum
Then a thousand tadpoles on telephone wires
Hundreds of blackbirds on barred barriers
Dozens of clothes-pegs on washing lines
He lunges into his defence designs
Fencing with the imaginary opponent mass
Stabbing viciously at the brass
Windshield wiper action for the string-strums
Thrust and parry over towards the kettle drums
Dizzy from the many-headed enemy
Hair is shaking, face is twitching - there’s too many
The noises continually blaring
Screeching, wailing, twanging, scaring
He finally concedes, stops the fight,
And they too give up the struggle for the night
After this cacophonous riot
There’s a little peace and quiet
Categories:
rostrum, music
Form:
Narrative