Best Scroll Poems
Memory or dream from hell I cannot tell
The vision of stygian forests where harpies dwell
And men from them among men spawned
Greedy gullibles that on pagan mysteries fawned
Evicted from stygian caves to wander bared
Of human comport and yet in human shape
By cultures of war in Cerebus’ loath prepared
These monsters of men defy, steal, kill, rape
The African land still, and virgin virtue defiled
In all her children stolen, manacled, despised
Toss upon dread waves like dead meat, disguised
From pity of sharks, innocence, kindness biled
By the same fiends frantic at the Judean cross
And this colonial evil is unsurpassed in dross.
They should have known such deeds are wrong
If they had known we are people too, and he
The Eternal light, the bringer of the griot's song
How they murdered him in grim glee of prophecy:
When each of us are enslaved or kill, he dies
Again in that wickedness entrenched in vanities.
VELA (CANDLE)First Spanish version, scroll down for English)
Yo ser‚ para ti.
Toda la vida que me queda la vivir‚ para ti
y cuando el tiempo haya terminado,
morir‚ por ti.
Dir‚ tu nombre
en cada vela que encienda, respirar‚ tu nombre.
Te susurrar‚,
cada oraci¢n que diga ser siempre parte de ti.
Por toda la eternidad,
y as¡ ha sido y ser siempre,
y cuando deje este mundo,
aquello vendr conmigo
en la luz de una vela.
Todo el mundo sigue girando, haciendo el d¡a y la noche,
y de la oscuridad a la luz,
ser s siempre parte de cada oraci¢n que yo diga.
Yo ser‚ para ti.
Como una fresca quebrada de la monta¤a que se desborda por ti
como una c lida brisa de verano
entre los rboles para ti.
En el brillo de una vela,
todo lo que he sido o llegue a ser
por toda la eternidad,
tu ser s parte de todo lo que yo haga siempre.
Yo ser‚ para ti.
Traducci¢n: Emilio J. Saavedra M. CANDLE
I will be for you.
All my life that is left, I will live for you,
and when time has run out,
I will die for you.
I will speak your name
in each candle that I light, I will breath your name.
I will whisper you,
every prayer I ever say will be part of you.
For eternity,
and forever it has been, and will always be,
and when I leave this world,
it will go with me.
In a candle light
all the world keeps on turning, making day and night,
and from dark to light,
you'll be part of every prayer that ever comes from me.
I will be for you.
Like a cool mountain spring that overflows for you
like a warm summer breeze
through the trees for you.
In a candle glow,
everything I've ever been or will ever be
for eternity,
you'll be part of everything I ever do.
I will be for you.
© Ron Wilson aka Vee Bdosa the doylestown poet
Although the light long ago faded from my youth
Clarity of my memories tell one; go home,
If only to find the innocence and the truth
From whence I travelled this world, like a gypsy roam.
When the scroll misconstrued paths collide in the night
Unprepared for the dawning the golden sunrise,
Horizon awakened one of emerald bright
Freeways of poetry and words woven without guise.
The misunderstanding of the unrolling scroll
Gave one measure to digest the loss; the delay,
In sands of time ribald an everlasting toll
The scroll we have a new understanding this day.
The gypsy has finally found himself a home
Through emerald eyes seeing his sunrise; not alone.
© Harry J Horsman & Mandy M Tams 2014
Reaching out to infinitude
when words have come to an end.
Yan Yu
Presence, without;
the space framed
but left empty.
Mountains float
as a fisherman
ignores, wishing
only for a fish
to feed his family.
Empty space is
space for us
to not ignore.
We fill it with
our emptiness –
and together
the picture paints
your presence.
The bards met there on winter nights
to write about the sounds and sights,
of all the places they had been,
since they met last with all their friends.
Quills and ink wells,parchment too,
shared or squandered,
words come true,
thoughts and feelings
fill the air,
visions falling everywhere.
Scooping up bright inspirations,
from another's celebration,
of the wonders they have known,
and finding out,
you're not alone.
A violin is like a lover--
A beautiful work of Art--
Precious, delicate, fragile.
It has to be handled with care,
Caressed, fondled, touched,
Hugged--but not too tight,
Or break it might
And hurt you in its breaking.
Hold the violin by its neck
The way you would hold your lover--
Firm but with the right pressure.
Look at it at arm’s length,
Admire its waist,
Lay your chin on its rest,
Close your eyes and feel
Your lover’s chest.
Press its strings as if you were
Pressing your lover’s skin,
With fingertips tripping over
Like the dainty feet of a dancer.
And the violin’s scroll--
Isn’t it a pretty sight?
Like a lover’s head bowed
When you were still both shy.
May 1, 2024
Lower Fairview, Baguio City
SCROLL OF LIFE
Although the light long ago faded from my youth
Clarity of my memories tell one; go home,
If only to find the innocence and the truth
From whence I travelled this world, like a gypsy roam.
When the scroll misconstrued paths collide in the night
Unprepared for the dawning the golden sunrise,
Horizon awakened one of emerald bright
Freeways of poetry and words woven without guise.
The misunderstanding of the unrolling scroll
Gave one measure to digest the loss; the delay,
In sands of time ribald an everlasting toll
The scroll we have a new understanding this day.
The gypsy has finally found himself a home
Through emerald eyes seeing his sunrise; not alone.
© Harry J Horsman & Mandy M Tams 2014
I am the beauty of your face,
I am the cloud up in the sky.
Because of your love, I can trace
The joy of knowing your near by.
I am the wonder of your whole,
I am that wistful look that you begat.
Because I am deep within your soul
I am with you, where err your at.
I am your eyes that look and learn,
I am that thought that passes through,
I am the body, that you yearn
Wrapped up in this verse, so true.
I am the love that we hold dear,
The longing that gives us pain.
One day soon I will be here,
Ne'er to leave, life to start again.
Penned 30 July 2014
Vespia, my dearest sister-in-law
I write to reveal my emotions raw
Victulus has asked me to wait for him
He is travelling to Herculaneum
How I do wish he could have taken me
Not as a maid but as his wife to be.
Now jealous thoughts are rising in my breast
They shall torment me in my night time rest
Cruxilas and his daughter Delphinian
Also travelling in my love's caravan
She tried to seduce him in wanton ways
Her eyes, her dress and with her hair she plays
His love reassurance in days gone past
Has long faded now as the die's been cast
I have not told him of my pregnant state
Hope nothing shall happen to make him late
Remember this year AD79
When, at last, dear Victulus shall be mine.
May the Gods favour us both,
Flavia xx
I write to you, my darling love,
emotions felt most tenderly;
I read anew the words you wrote
upon your latest scroll to me.
I keep them all together, love,
precious collection - all apart -
outpourings of the dream we share
from your dearest, purest heart.
I wait for you and you alone,
no other one will ever be
as treasured as you always are,
God's sweetest gift on earth to me.
My world is quiet, seasons change;
I write my heart upon the stars
in hopes you read the messages
in the midnight skies where you are.
I pray that God will keep you safe
upon your journey for our king;
the day your ship sails into port
will set cathedral bells to ring.
But no bells will peal more loudly
or with more melodious art
than the bells that your returning
will set to singing in my heart.
Copyright, August 1, 2014
Faye Lanham Gibson
To see your gaze light the firmament
To see your smile lift the sun
It’s your eyes I see as the moon rises
My heart hopes this is love begun
You gaze through the space, do you see me?
I watch in hope forlorn
But my heart I want to give to thee
You are the reason I was born.
My love I can only send
On rolled parchment now to you
My life on you depends
For in truth you love me too
You gaze through the window
I see you every day
You face lights up as I pass
Please speak to me I pray
Although I am of lowly birth
I am rich in love for you
Please grant me a next meeting
And we could start anew.
I will do it right this time
And ask your father’s grace
But we both know it now
Together is our place.
A sign, my love, from where you sit
And gaze each day t’wards me
I promise my life, my love, my name
As I promise to make a wife of thee.
MT © 30 /7 /2014
Turning the parchments pages
Of this tearstained scroll
Bombast tales, never, have I ever spoke
The writings of palladians life, unfolds
Beyond the reasons and beyond the rhymes
And beyond this once somnolent night
In front of the crowds, I have stood
Bowing toward these everbearing eversions
These sombered encores, for the disemboweled
Deafened ears and emptied eyes
The hues, of crimsons splashings
Gasping for breath, these souls of the plight
Blinding foreclosures, of what might have been
Sprinkled and shattered, shards of images
Dreams, that once were, now, splattered in red
Palladians parchment, of a ghost with no home
"Forever lost"....this light, this plight, this night
The night, of the living dead!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
......The Scroll.......
Hands of God Above
Reminging us of His love
Parted the clouds, light
I remember the morning when the flags flew
High over us, how we tumult in sweet chorus
"The people's flag is deepest red," and grew
Warm around you, like emancipation August
When we track Sam Sharp down the wet mountain
To pay with blood for what we could not keep.
I grew up a cargoed car in your tight train
I made bonds with my land, strong and deep
And loved him who for the Gleaner his satire
Wrote, and him who peeled our pulse polling
Views, sown deep, about time's history scarred
I remember the reggae king's sweet prophesying.
We confirmed with you our need to stand, we
Nor had done so well since Nanny led lines
Of my blood sires through bush for history
I remember some sat where the moon shines
Still on green guinea grass, and tongues
Warm as logwood fire lighting dark tales
From the past, and our imagination's lungs
Expanding 'til dreams were bulging sails
If downriver a conscience sliver should make me wonder
Why in the face of challenges I should blunder
Fearing to thrive into a hope giver, preferring to pull asunder
Pangs of conscience, veering away from sticking out my neck
In case guilt should on my churlish cheek plant a peck
To denounce my façade and pronounce my person a fake protagonist, a wreck
Filled to the brim with shame
That in mundane fora I should lay claim
To an iota of virtue to redeem the name
Sunk into disrepute
As injustice and unfairness I couldn’t dispute
Despite carrying considerable clout with the ill repute
In ivory towers
Where iniquities devoured hours
Hobnobbing with gluttons who withered flowers
Decimating probity from petals of love
Whose hues and fragrance scintillated on wings of a white dove
Which couldn’t accommodate my cowardice to have
Shrunk from the centre of controversy
To the comfort of soapy sports, pleading for mercy
In the face of the moral and mental pleurisy
I felt as shame drove my sanity to the fringe
Where in comfort I could cringe
And die in shame on the binge
Where for a few pieces of silver I sold my soul
Vowing not to rock the status quo boat if I hoped to reach my goal
Wishing I could inscribe my name in gilt letters on a salvation scroll.