Best Sat Poems
I sat down today....
Found myself prideful,
Sinful,
Selfish, and unruly in places.
I found myself publicly appealing!
I sat down today.....
I saw a cloud between me and God.
I could see him, but barely.
The midst gave a rough odor!
I seen thunder and I felt the lightning in my chest and it was all I could do to hold on to his unchanging hand.
What is it to self that finds me!
I sat down today.....
©2017
I sat to write of subtle things
The sun, the gentle warm it brings
To melt the ice on dormant springs
Awakening the bug that stings
Then came thoughts a bit more harsh
Large snapping turtles in the marsh
Bug-eyed pike with teeth so sharp
Chasing dragonflies at dark
A soothing hum that fills the air
Just letting us know that they’re there
Residing between leaf and lair
A season’s worth of life to share
Thus, do the woods kindly enfold
The dreams of lovers young and old
Stories hidden, stories told
Of moonlit kisses ne’er grown cold
It was a gorgeous house
Dated in its style
A stone-walled bungalow
Quiet sitting up on a hill
I’d never seen a sign of life
And the stories lurked about
Owned by an old photographer
Whose son had hung himself
A house that seemed abandoned
Where everyone had left their soul
In some form passed away and died
Leaving just the ghosts to roam
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
I sat and pondered the things I’d like to forget.
There have been some bad times -
Lost love, both romantic and familial,
betrayals by a few I considered close friends,
and the inevitable hardships of simply living life
including its numerous moments of sheer embarrassment.
I contemplated which of those many examples of life’s trials
I would choose to completely forget. . .
Then I thought of my step dad, who passed away -
and not so quietly - those several years ago,
his mind stripped bare of any reasonable thought,
and all his recollections, whether good or bad,
reduced to the fleeting images of childhood’s ghosts.
At the very end, was there even a glimmer for him
of the recognition of anything at all?
I was not there at his bedside, but my mother related to me
the wild fear in his eyes
as he choked for breath while clinging to life
despite his apparent inability to even grasp
one memory that would give him a reason to survive!
Everything reduced to the blind biological instinct
simply to breathe. . .
All who were there at the end with him
were praying for him just to pass
quietly into the night.
With all memory ripped cruelly away
and still he fought to live. . .
So how could I ever declare wanting to forget even an iota
of anything at all in my entire life?
Written 1/18/13 for Frank's Contest
I sat beneath a Veteran-oak,
In awe of His strength—
Here was a solid spirit!
Sympathy you get from Willow,
But stiff upper-lip from old soldiers,
With forged bark —
His limbs flexed, cut, rippled against the wind…
No chinks in this warrior-wood…
“Divide and Conquer!”
Then I thought of my Father—
A cook at the end of the war—The Big One!
You know the One I mean, as if there are small ones—
When the commanders were through eating
He was instructed to toss the leftovers
From the belch of plates—
Trashcans were in the alley,
The steel that seems intrinsic to battles
In one form or another—
The hungry German children
Would sneak pass the guards
And line-up;
My father would sneak pass his superiors
And his honor
To dispense carefully wrapped scraps…
Well, soon the line was out into the street
As my father was compelled to seek food
From wherever he could steal, beg or barter
To procure—This brought attention—the cat-out-of-the-bag,
And all hell down on my father,
As the captain screamed: Gus, these are the enemy (the children in the alley),
What in God’s Name are you doing?
He was forced to stop—no Court Marshal though…
I looked up again at the old oak,
Through the snarled branches
Deep into the staunch soldier,
Where I spied a nest
In a small, compact fork—
Having a canopy of extra leaves
For shade and shelter from the wind—
I smiled—hum…
His bark reddened, but like my father, no apology from this weathered soldier…
As I, Their Weak And Soft Human Flesh, Sat To Eat
I have seen stars blown to dust, red moons rising steep
lives taken by the billions where death is a must.
Candles burnt out , before their red moon falls to sleep,
great empires destroyed, their monuments turned to rust.
I have walked blood-soaked alleys with neck bone in hand
bleached white bones crushing under my stomping feet.
Seen millions die making futile heroic last stands
as I, their soft and weak human flesh, sat to eat.
My name is Power- greed , pride, lust are my black game,
cherishing each hour my evil desires are met.
Men have called me many great and dastardly names
paid that heavy price as death wins my every bet.
So few can resist my alluring and dark charms
As my temptations brings lost souls into my arms.
R.J. Lindley,
July 25th 1977
Syllables Per Line:
12 12 12 12 0 12 12 12 12 0 12 12 12 12 0 12 12
Total # Syllables: 169
Total # Lines: 17 (Including empty lines)
Words with (syllables) counted programmatically:
Total # Words: 134
(edited today before posting to meet uniform 12 syllable verse count)
Old Note- From my private journal 7-25-1977...
Wrote a dark one tonight as bad blood raced through my veins
wicked the fleeting midnight hour and its agonizing flow.
In my mind, deep hatred calls for dark and bloody stains'
never will she the dark demon, this my mad urge ever know..
New Note--
A very bad time in my young life (age 23 years old, 4 months and 20 days), whiskey seemed to put me in a rare mood.
I sat alone
with the moon
last night – in
the deep dark;
till the dim light
and then
the morrow;
I spoke of Love's enchantment...
of Love's joys, and of loveless
sorrows...
I asked, had she also counted –
with the happy hours –
the many unrequited tears?
Had she kept a few of my own?
For joy and sorrow, does Her Light
show different tone? Or for Her,
is it all the same moan?
THE CAT SAT ON THE MAT
this perfect poem of mine
will rhyme in every line
no stanza’s out of time
or thoughts that drift sublime
the cat sat on the mat
her body round and fat
and when you stroke her fur
rewards you with a purr
blah…blah…fishpaste !
we all love faithful dogs
who chase those logs and frogs
with coats shiny and long
who never judge you wrong
blah… blah…bonemeal !
birds have feathers that curl
and when they fly they whirl
they sing the sweetest songs
choirs of sing-along’s
blah…blah… birdsh…eet !
this perfect poem of mine
will rhyme in every line
no stanza’s out of time
or thoughts that drift sublime
THIS PERFECT POEM OF MINE IS INTENSELY ANNOYING !!!
SO I’LL ADD A BOTTOM LINE COMPLETELY DESTROYING !!!
I hear the dragon breathing threats of polluted line-spaces
that
promise to destroy the crow-like-critics of the written word
….like a rush of fresh air
© Kim van Breda—15 September 2015
They all come in
There’s a family din
But the cat sat on the mat
Tea time done
They have some fun
But the cat sat on the mat
It’s early evening
Kids are screaming
But the cat sat on the mat
Eight at night
Kids out of sight
But the cat sat on the mat
News at Ten
For Kate and Ben
But the cat sat on the mat
A cold winter’s night
Folk tucked up tight
But the cat sat on the mat
Three in the morning
The house is snoring
But the cat sat on the mat
Mice scurry past
Could it be their last?
But the cat sat on the mat
Seven in the morning
Milk is pouring
But the cat sat on the mat
What is wrong with this cat?
Oh - it’s dead!
~~~
One of my early poems written in September 2012
1st place
The Throwback Challenge Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Natasha L Scragg
I had a call from Santa
He said he will be late
He's lost his sat-nav in the snow
And Rudolph's in a state.
Rudolph had an idea
He said why don't we pray
For God created Christmas
I'm sure He'll guide our sleigh.
So Rudolph and Santa prayed to God
And asked Him to guide their sleigh
And make sure the children everywhere
Got their presents on Christmas day.
God answered Rudolph and Santa's prayer
And Christmas was really great
The children received their presents on time
Because Santa was never late.
At the end of the elated visit
Around the mind moving marble mausoleum -Taj Mahal
I was unconvinced to leave and got a place to sit
As excited to enjoy the environment, withal
It was the inside on the right, near the main entrance
Just before the famous ‘visitors bench’
from where visitors pose, with faces full of romance
As a monumental memory, though the fire won’t quench
I was seated at a comfortable distance
To watch this mankind’s magnificent marble marvel
My mind churned the charm, inch by inch
With visitors from the entire globe, lining after a long travel
Of all colors, gathering was the crowd of tourist
With dressing styles that were, to this land, new
My emotions of excitement, I could not resist
Their expression of ecstatic too, none knew
Flocking was also the beeline of photographers
With the face of everyone, full of excitement
Earnestly everyone was immersed, as none bothers
None can forget in life, this joyful moment
Distracted my ‘dream-like-reality’ was an eagle
He was flying low, short rounds over the main dome
Over his unusual behavior, into me, I did giggle
He returned after two short rounds, as it was awesome
He now flied directly to the Finial – Islamic moon symbol atop
He sat over the Finial, as if he came to chat with me
A new relationship between us began to develop
I enormously enjoyed this ecstatic and wondered to watch the game
Joy or grief never lasts for longer
As he could not sit there comfortably
As the edges seems sharper and stronger
My friend was forced to fly away, inevitably
This play of this eagle, perhaps I only noticed
Perhaps only towards me, He sat to chat
Taj as universal ‘symbol of love’ is highly placed
The joy of watching the eagle too, a tantalizing treat!
(Copyrights reserved by the Author)
He sat at the bar,
She had just left
To use the restroom,
And he pondered
His situation.
Yes,
She was beautiful,
Curves in the right places,
Weave perfectly done,
Not a track in sight,
Outfit exhibiting all
That God had blessed her with,
But.....
But she spent more time
In the hairdresser's chair
Than she spent in bookstores.
Philosophical conversations
Left him confused and
He was a philosophy major.
Yes,
She was pretty,
But she was like
A beautiful vase,
Pretty on the outside,
Empty on the inside.
He sat at the bar,
Trying to put words together
Kind enough
Not to damage her ego,
Strong enough
To let her know
That they were over.
Words pulled him
From his thoughts,
They came from somewhere
Behind him,
They were a mix of
Male and female,
Peppered with a rhetoric
His mind hungered for.
Slowly, he turned around,
Searching the bar
For a couple
In deep conversation.
They sat two yards away,
Two book ends,
Brother and sister.
He sipped his whiskey,
Pretending to be taking in
The whole bar scene,
But he was really
Fixated on her,
Fixated on the dialogue.
She was no stunner
By society's standards,
But the more she spoke,
The more he was enamored.
She glance his way
And smiled, not knowing
That in that gesture
She stole his heart.
Just as he was about
To stand,
To join them,
To introduce himself,
To join this battle of words,
His woman appeared.
She whispered naughty things,
Delicious, seductive things,
Things that would have made
Him forget himself.
Not this time,
Or any time in the future.
He spread out the
Roughly sewn patchwork
Of words he had planned to tell her,
Then he bid her goodbye,
Slipping out of her grasp.
He didn't join
The brother and sister,
He just walked out of the bar.
He was not that kind of guy,
The kind that would
Break up with one woman
And pursue another
In the space of five minutes.
It was two weeks later
When he saw the sister again,
This time, he joined her,
This time, he introduced himself,
This time, he planned to be with
A woman that stimulated him
Mind, body and soul.
I sat before that panel,
some half my age,
that didn't know a tenth,
of what I do,
that I thought had the power
to change my life and
I barked,
and drooled,
and rolled over,
and jumped through hoops,
and licked butt,
and played dead,
and chased my own tail,
and preened, cutely,
and even scratched a few fleas.
I did as an old dog would,
that was tired of being kicked,
and starved, and tempted,
by his master,
and who had forgotten,
that he still had teeth,
and still could
run away.
There once was a lady from Newmarket
Who's deriere was so big she couldn't park it
Tried a regular chair
Imagine if you dare
Sat next to herself! Overweight... just a bit!
© Jack Ellison 2015
I’m huddled up in my usual spot outside
Cold as a dog’s nose
On the old park bench, eating air pies
Drinking crushed sun, watching for a sign
Counting days, waiting for rain
There are signs everywhere, the crowd
In every sense a herd
But not behaving like one
I have seen them before and I see them now
People who look like trees
Walking tall, laughing out loud
Talking, choking on thought, walking
There is nothing here but hunger
Nothing here but thunder
In my stomach, lightning in my mind
I am no Jack Horner and there is no Christmas pie
But I see the Christmas lights
I see flickers in the dark night. There’s nothing in this
They have nothing but darkness of heart
They care naught who pass me by
They can’t be bothered
I am Lazarus, sitting at your gate
Invisible to the naked eye, a figure in the shadows
A picture in the rubble
Action figure, dumpster diver
Between us and them there is a great chasm fixed
I would be grateful for another crumb of bread
Master, what must I do to be saved?
It means a lot to me. It matters that you asked
My plight is simple, and so is the solution
I will work for food, but every sign indicates to me
That there are no vacancies, no jobs
My communication is lost in translation
I came into the world with egg in face
I see a world in intermission
Moving fast forward but also in fast reverse
The rich young ruler left with a long face
With thanks
Original poem by Kenny Gwena appeared in an anthology titled "Hunger"
Inspired by true events and four books "Waiting for the Rain" by Charles Mungoshi, "Man Gone Down" by Michael Thomas, "The Wasteland" by T.S. Eliot, and "The Holy Bible""