Best Semaphore Poems
Recall the midwife
To the cenotaph
War is over
For now at least
Nothing but poppy petal buttercup remain
in tact to blow away this coming eve
Or grow from flounder's red sodden field
To flutter on a chasten solar breeze
Up and up so only downward grave
can see
So pray the world outside relent drunken
on the floral scent
Sprayed by white tailed doves formation
flying overhead
Signaling in semaphore
Death is dead once more
We've little left to fill a casket
Apart from surplus faulty armaments
Scattered across the length and breadth
of no man's lands
To carry these giant's home
To mother's
Wishing they we're never born
Or had a daughter instead
Amen
Categories:
semaphore, love, slam, war,
Form:
Free verse
In 1914 at Albany the first ANZAC soldier's fleet gathered
And on the transports the soldiers were by orders tethered
She was the Light-house keeper's young daughter so patriotic
Using semaphore signals she spoke to them on youth's topic
It was to the Great War battles fought and won ahead of all
Each word semaphored from ship to shore their excited call
Finally off to Egypt, Gallipoli shores and Western Front they went
There were tough trials of bullet, shot and gas towards them sent
They remembered this girl with her heart felt messages freely given
Their letters and postcards in her mind her thoughts of them still living.
© Paul Warren Poetry
Categories:
semaphore, remember, world war i,
Form:
Ballad
Ardent galleon cutting foamy high tide
Each sliver born to venture yet farther
Captain and lady, stout crew by their side,
Still hailed by stalled gray frigate in harbor
You’re bailing water again, foundering
Says the unsubtle, frantic semaphore
Wan efforts to stay afloat floundering
Desperate colors, guilt cannot ignore
Ours not the only ship with billowed sails
Sure hands ride in closer proximity
Yet only our craft you insist to hail
Another failure for your litany
Ere, as your crew, began my sailing craft
On fair seas, through inky nights’ frozen rain
How could I surmise, you color me daft,
My apprenticeship owes eternal chains?
Leaks in careworn hull not of our making
A Dramamine rerun, your sophistry
To sail in your wake, sadly mistaken
Your dry dock is not our trajectory
5/9/16
© Thomas W. Quigley
Categories:
semaphore, allegory, boat, sea,
Form:
Quatrain
Starling Murmuration
'Neath Nimbus Dark
Eerie sings
Nature's Acrobats
Million wings
Splendour reigns
Cascades crash
Aeriel Ballet
Swooping splash
Mesmerising movement
Semaphore Correlation
Phenomenon splendid
Starling Murmuration
thank you
Categories:
semaphore, adventure, animal, beautiful, bird,
Form:
Rhyme
Tech-No-Logic
Of keyboard and swipe
a screens deliberation circuit electronic
in metal skin and paper thin
push button hums the chord of plastic
tech-no-logical inventum
such marvels to grind the wheel
impartial utensils the battery static
a signal from pre-molded concrete
sends the flip switch light
a barrage of city steel
Perfidious evolution
camera slapped ready to be mobile
disseminate precious packeted information
send the engine forward
designed specific mechanical
with purpose and all copyright invention
roll out the factory trinkets
and by wifi extol these virtues of freedom
such ease of apps
the dictionary of a creative human
Pander upon the wonder
tech-no-logic inventum
to satellite and celluloid praise them
the world a window
to ignore confusion
fanatical gears performing missiles
each trigger of functioning confident
laser guided telescopic retention
art forms innovation
and the busy discourse of bibliophiles
What design by rain
the mechanisms of perfume
a flowers technical schematic
a blueprint revived
so the wind sustains chaotic
fluctuations of forms molecule Phi
graceful filament wings
the meaning of feathers, thorns and insect
wood breathing light
inexplicable, irreproachable tree
of life
And who by sun
upon rainbows plain did walk
was uttered a catchphrase of miracles
no other perfection
wrought in animate visions sacrament
the momentums overture existential
rhythms dance plays waterfall
which finger tips technology
so in intricate reflex of memory
sustained an infinite birth
Lay by road side
in clank and clamor rattle
semaphore an accident in skeletal
and by marvelous creed
take emulsions photo
whys and wherefores the veins of petals
the everyday unexceptional
but still focus changes the angle
all reiteration speaks
by blueprint original perfected creation
Categories:
semaphore, nature, technology,
Form:
Free verse
Within your system
of abstract data I'm the
invariable
one; the broken semaphore
who yearns for an error-patch.
Categories:
semaphore, absence, blue, heartbroken, pain,
Form:
Tanka
I saw it turn from green to red
The little light inside my head
When I looked into your eyes
And mistook your heart for your lies
Deep inside, you see, I knew
What you were saying was not true
But deep inside, I find, I’d choose
To believe you loved me too
You let go and set yourself free
And back it went from red to green
And I found I couldn’t breathe
And I found I couldn’t see
And I found I did not feel
Anything but what was real
So nothing really changes at all
When that light flickers on and off
Then again from green to red
Back and forth and back it went
Until no longer I could stand
The confusion and the sound
The siren wail that signals fear
And the gentle melody of love
And the little light that controls
When to stop and when to go
I always crossed with green man walking
Followed lights, patters, and colored symbols
Subtle rules that yank the strings
My invisible puppeteers
So, this time instead, I took my breath
and crossed the street with red man standing
and was almost killed…
almost…
I grabbed your hand and pulled you to me
Won’t you please open your eyes, I said
And you stared long and hard at me
And started laughing then:
‘Oh darling you sure are slow
That’s just what I was waiting for,’
You smiled at me and squeezed my hand
But I stared back, confused, “what?”
‘You cut the strings and took control
Now, of your show you are the host
And no longer the main lead;
Yes now you know the difference.’
Did I say, “almost killed”? I did
Oh, the grandest of the lies
Perhaps that was the first time ever
That I felt alive.
Categories:
semaphore, devotion, faith, hope, love,
Form:
Verse
I Remember -by Trevor McLeod
The soldiers gathered at the wreath I remember.
The coffin covered just beneath I remember.
The poppies at the corner store I remember.
The amputees the coins were for I remember.
The fighters flying through the sky I remember.
The trail of red to catch the eye I remember.
The bombers at the airport strip I remember.
The radar with the foreign blip I remember.
The sailors with the semaphore I remember.
The air raids to incoming horror I remember.
The sailors with the folded flags I remember.
The victims to their body bags I remember.
The granite tomb to seal them in I remember.
The sign outside to say we win I remember.
The cemeteries many stones I remember.
The flowers growing through their bones I remember.
The bugle player playing taps I remember.
The Sargent Major never claps I remember.
The crosses planted by their head I remember.
The helmets hanging off for dead I remember.
The Legion playing in the band I remember.
The drummer pausing for a stand I remember.
The legion drinking in the hall I remember.
The stories being shared by all I remember.
The rifles firing twenty-one I remember.
The bullets deafening to the gun I remember.
The widows left at home alone I remember.
The women of the bombs been blown I remember.
The cannon shot to send the ball I remember.
The powder black to scare us all I remember.
The poem we know as Flanders Field I remember.
The author killed within it's yield I remember.
The unknown soldier questioned who I remember.
The final words our thanks to you I remember.
Categories:
semaphore, appreciation, remembrance day, war,
Form:
Couplet
wishing he had sung his prayers last night
from both ends to the middle
fell to the ground in adoration
tore a wake through the ink stains
but not from satisfaction
plastic Jesus hold my head
a round of applause for once
or even just a soft murmur
from those in your employ
parked way out in Kokomo
my interrogator professor Zworykin
said quietly we want information
I knew I was up **** creek
without an assault rifle
with various blunt objects
aimed at what was left of my head
initiations with disfigurement
so have a melodic answer he encouraged
yah well the Third Reich fell from bad music
I spat like a backwards vampire
the swelling is an obstacle
I added for evidence I mean emphasis
the King of the Scarabs was neither mollified
nor inclined to use less aftershave
a great rectum of a situation
which is a poem in itself
I got in a few imaginary hits
before he called in the hockey franchise
with their many novel effects and manifestations
such as hugely distended penises
not at all like the computer club
fart gigglers and Balaam anointed
who sang as they worked
that's how we laugh the day away
in the merry merry Land of Oz
always a help to morale in the trenches
to use a dirty semaphore
for the male power hug
cracking walnuts with hydraulics
the Scarab King was a backhanded guy
strung out on endless platitudes
this is a spit shine day men
do your regimentation proud
they wavered then cheered then wavered
when the going got tough
and it seemed to often
for your present narrator
they allocate security personnel
in my case a comic endorphin gigolo
the hand of a spell upon his brow
good lord not another eccentric botanist
bedecked with the fabled Trinkets of Mouthgate
traffic fines double in poet zone
former servant of the hypno-avatar
with his blemish free goats
and his tunnel vision paparazzi
hI I'm Joe Product family friend
half con half circus half fury
screaming on the rack
my one line in the play
whatever will I do now
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
Categories:
semaphore, how i feel,
Form:
Free verse
Conceive in a moment of silence
You came to thought
To feed birds of desire in drought
With hands; of bare
Melted shields; of frosty ice
With pair of wings
Played in air
On peripheries
Of pain
In rings and raise
In a book of shallowness
Of my pale
And bore
Added
A blossom of rose
In gallery of rimes; old and cold
Conjured you the paint
An art
A sense of love
With semaphore of heart
Make the scene alive
Again
Categories:
semaphore, desire, love,
Form:
Remember speaks its semaphore
in passing eyes elicit stare
coquette the lip is waiting for
some smoldering shadow shall dare
Make threat to mountain with needles point
and clasp impetuous the hawthorn bush
for care not so the virtuous caught
as petulant to cause the bloods ignited rush
Such a useless thing called love
the demon of a feather sent afloat
artist of another happenstance in truth
tempered to the molten coin of a harlot
And tumescent in the trespasser of
panders to a daydreams lecherous thirst
but claims to burn the yearning of
and in mockery damns the broken heart to burst
Make threat to mountain with needles point
where so many as want the angels will dance upon
better for worse or dissonant
the parting shrift or parting gifts delusion
Beaten down to overburdened
exultation this poets cantankerous pen
or places in mythos such heady legend
a chocolate box of promises given
Still hammers bitter nails on libations grasp
treasured name so driven to agony
'till uttered with the final gasp
this ambrosia whispered into eternity
Freedom gained repentant of sightless prison
so open embraced surrendering kiss
as to quivering hand the lover seeks expression
and relinquishes all to hubris
Love be-damned to a useless thing called love
For what love wants is naught
neither in the service of soul
nor to spirits radiance brought
nor for love, is loves portent of, loves only goal
Categories:
semaphore, love,
Form:
Free verse
Crash down softly, where the red crush deepens
Charming, snatch your cherries from the stem
Rude health walking in the greenburst showers
Weather wonders whether she's with him.
Then fly downhill for the lost sensation
Climbing with a shudder back up fell,
Rainjacked half smiles and a skywide feeling
Rush to hunker down the shattered elm.
She could suffocate the hyacinthes
Breeding and pervading every pore
Skim-stop stones among the lead-tipped peril
Breathing once again in semaphore.
They play catch perhaps, a shimmy in slow motion
Every brush a shock to seek again
All fall ragwards in the bluebell clusters
Laughing, shrinking, knowing... something.
Jill woos butterflies while you play Hamlet
Cradling a half-brick in your hands
Grass-stained livery that can't stay forever
Sedge bonfire from nowhere and that hound.
Who'll tell grandma that the wolf has eaten?
Who'll break the bank for just a dare?
Leave mudboots ashamed to save twelve seconds
Gunning for the best seat in the lair.
Categories:
semaphore, desire, flower, grandmother, rain,
Form:
Rhyme
Why have the birds stopped singing
What is causing this restraint?
Why is the air full of gunsmoke
Why can’t the politicians get it right?
Why are good people dying
Where will it all end?
When will the word PEACE have a meaning
Will we have a sign from heaven?
Why is the peace sign round with no corners
With a semaphore of letters N and D?
Will there ever be nuclear disarmament
Will the world ever be free?
Will the world leaders sit down together
To agree not to disagree
Will nature stop being so devastating
Will World Prayer create history?
Categories:
semaphore, peace,
Form:
Rhyme
Lost my Voice
When I woke up this morning,
I found my voice had gone.
It wasn’t where I left it,
Something, was obviously wrong.
I looked under my pillow
and I looked under the sheet,
No, not on my set of draws,
What a mystery complete.
Not beside the soaking glass,
Where I keep my teeth,
No sign of it by the cupboard,
Or anywhere underneath.
It may be in the Kitchen,
Or dropped on the bathroom floor,
I need to find it desperately,
So that I can holler or roar.
Please don’t ask no questions,
Because I can’t tell no lies.
I could always speak in semaphore,
Or scribble down my replies.
Just as I started to worry,
My voice came back to me,
It was exactly where I left it,
How silly could anyone be.
Categories:
semaphore, absence, funny, lost, silly,
Form:
Rhyme
The Southern Cross possessed the sky
that night winds with cold dominion
should coast the chapel roof and cry,
betray the heartland to oblivion.
Relaying scents on mountain breeze
with relics of the grateful dead,
semaphore on repentant knees,
did something kill the newly wed?
With no reply about the grail,
duos of crows pecked the eyes
and beak-plunged in the entrail,
communing when something freshly dies.
The friend and lover contemplates
a future tarred and tarnish feathered,
locks digits with the hands of fate
in grinding seas and tempest weathered.
Togetherness, in love division,
reaching for a different sun,
I know the weight of indecision,
she knows I am the one…
Categories:
semaphore, adventure, life, love, passion,
Form:
Verse