Best Several Poems


Several Christmas Time Horn Haiku

Christmas Yule Tide Horn Haiku

what a dearth of mirth
welcome Jesus and His birth
beyond all worth on earth

saw star in the skies
by three men who had been wise
met with much surprise

much to our delight
brought star did show in the night
Jesus brought much light

waited for a while
then saw Jesus with His smile
one day was on trial

on Jesus relied
who on cross was crucified
felt sorry inside

was such a great loss
Jesus dying on the cross
we would turn and toss

we had grieved and grieved
by God His Son was received
are greatly relieved.

Homeless with Those We Miss

we have the homeless
along with the loneliness
died and them will miss

Jim Horn
© James Horn  Create an image from this poem.

Several Miles From Home In Ireland

Mountains in the Ocean above which stood
     A piercing Sky of blue and Clouds
     Remarked upon to honest vessel
     By arrant birds aloft on high.

     Turn sails to home too far to see
     A boat of fish caught by sea breeze
     As countrymen pause and drain their Ales
     On the earth, on the Ocean; dim-lighted and pale.

     A Castle in the Clouds without any owner
     No servant, no master and entirely empty
     Where none would go but a single guest
     In its other realm on the Hawk's winged path.

     Stumble from Pub into unwelcomed street.
     The black of the Sky and its cold on his cheek.
     An angry, strong cry as he heads from this town,
     Into Highlands and Castles and lost Ocean sounds.


     (Note: accent on the "e" in third stanza's "winged".)

The Hearts of Several

Jealousy is a weak emotion; People misuse the emotion like lotion. 
- Loverboi


Several Days of Agony

Several days of agony; 
Last night...almost doubled up. 
Moaning in pain.
Even through pain killers. 

Phoned dentist: Appt. at 2.40...
Timed it badly. 
Started out; it was raining. 
Had to double back and change. 

Was almost late. Put on anorak. 
Stuffed shoes in rugby shirt; 
In bag. Wore cap. 
Took cheque book. 

Change of trousers. 
Mine got drenched. 
Changed there. 
Young guy thought I was crazy. 

I stripped the anorak. 
Went in; waited. 
The dentist poked around 
and touched decay. 

It was so painful; I cried out. 
He went to work. 
He temporarily filled it. 
I was exhilarated.  

(Based on diary notes made March 2013).

Premium Member A Lady With Several Passports-N

I met a woman from Charlotte, North Carolina
After attending a literary conference in Uruguay
She claimed that she had passports muchas
Born to a British mother now live in Uruguay
Married to man of State Department Americana.

Changing the aircraft at Buenos Aries Airport
She talking, I listening, standing in a queue.
For the check-in I handed over my passport
The inspector inquired of me, looking into 
Is she with you, sir? Where is her passport?

I simply looked at him with casual attention
Till day I don’t know which passport she used
Now that we were at the boarding gate in a line
As to why the inspector wanted hers she asked
I replied her because I have Passport Indian.

Wished to offer one more passport, couldn’t tune
But if ever she, by chance, in Charlotte she meets
As I have now settled down in her home town
And our ships destined to have favorable winds,
What I couldn’t say, have a mind to say it soon.

================================

Several of the Greater Nations

Your suicide 
Wrests the act from the hand 
So that fire can envelop the bottle 
And skyward 
And bright
And living 
Technicolour dances in extremes.

We effervesce and burst 
We rise up and with a fury
A million or more 
We wilt back onto the vine
Waiting to be harvested and 
Transformed into feed for machinery

The blocks and the slabs and
The blocs and the Slavs 
And the pointed jagged teeth 
Of a rusted saw three thousand times the size of the moon

We jigsaw and puzzle and pile up
And bric-a-brac away the inheritance 
Of dead men coming into dead men’s fortunes
We store up and cascade
And chisel 
At the face of a dam
As a plague of locusts descends 
Within the imagery of Uncle Sam 

We shoot in succession 
And with twenty-eight barrels 
We could split the world to pieces
And commit 

Several of the greater nations
Turn and shoot and all goes black
As the litter is circulated 
In samizdat and under purple cloth.


My Inner Child, One of Several

He’s 5, still is,
after all these years.
He sits and waits, frightened.
He feels hollow.
Life is too lonely now to have future.
I know he is there,
I know right where he is.
I see him.
What he knows,
what others don’t,
is that there is no escape.
There is no future.
When others do tentatively reach toward him,
it is as through the bars of a cage.

But in the intervening years,
I have come from that distant spot in his cage
through the ether that he can not discern
to the present,
and have discovered a great secret:
I now know the way!

And so I start to slip back
through mists that cloud everything.
Mists no one else can follow.

I carry music with me.
I carry dance.
I carry words to speak.
I carry form, beauty.
I carry images.
I carry sensuality.
I carry intimacy.
I carry caresses and loveliness.
I carry promise.

I know what this boy needs.
I know the pieces that have been and will be torn from him.
And the key, the key to his heart,
is that all that I carry is meant for him.
They are the nature of his heart
They are the future of his heart that has been eclipsed.

What I carry to him is the knowledge that there is a way now for him.

The mist is cool, thick,
but it is not as dangerous as the original journey.
Not so anxious, tense, frightened.

When I see him finally, he looks up.
I am on the inside of his cage.
He knows who I am.
As I reach for his hand
he puts it in mine knowing that he can.
Knowing that this too is ordained.
Not knowing what.
But knowing that he will follow to the land I lead him to.
Too young to understand all that means.
Too young to even know how to question.
Just knowing that I have, at long last, come back for him,
that at long last someone,
will take him,
to future.

Dec 2011
© Fitz Cook  Create an image from this poem.

Silly Sally Saved Several Ships Contest

Silly sally sang so many silly songs,
Sometimes silly sally sang about secret storms,
 Suddenly silly sally sang about a sailing ship, 
Silly sally’s song saved several slips.



By: Sabina Nicole
Contest

Premium Member The Several Mysteries of Stanley Meyer

A
man who
wanted to
invent things, he
claimed he had made a
car that ran on water!
Said to be bribed and threatened
by Big Oil, he was deemed a fraud
when he refused to let the court test
his creation. Did no one see it work?

This is but one of the mysteries that 
surrounds Stanley, who died after he
sipped some juice at a restaurant.
He gripped his throat and said that
he’d been poisoned, but this
was not proved. Why? Was
he gas-lighted?
Or was he
conning
US??

June 8, 2022 
for Joe Maverick's Life Death And Aims Of Stanley Meyer Poetry Contest

Stone For Stone

Walking in the moonlight, on a distant shore.Black magic, black mother let me pain no more.For the time has come for me to be alone.I must be this way for you have hit me with your last stone.I dug a ditch a long ways from here, I planted some lilies there.As I dug a grave for myself out in the middle of nowhere.As I head to the darkness where light has never shown.Tears keep coming and loneliness, heartache, the scars I'll forever have.Will i ever find who I wants was? I must hide my face and you should hide yours.Darkness is among us now.I don't hear a sound.Lord please forgive me as I'm about to sin.l asked you not to throw stones at me.That means you offered me pain.You are a sight for sore eyes.Darkness of evil has opened inside me.Broken bones with all the pain, Nightmares there's not a worse feeling to wake up and not have your memory.Someone else to feed you clean you.Screaming over and over, what the hell has happened to me.All for what? Lord only knows.iv'e always heard sticks and stones may break your bones.But you will never hurt me. We are here, this grave that i dug.Was never for me. It's for you...

Several Haiku

Haiku 

Beautiful horses
But it is the modest mule 
That carries our load

Tidy office building
Busy and efficient place 
Kept clean by janitors
 
Our great cities
Without armies of cleaners  
Uninhabitable 

Galloping filly 
Bets are on black beauty 
The jenny won
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.

Lost Causes Can Be Lost Several Times

“We the People”
"They the Monkeys"

1
three days in a row
at a zoo in washington
he watched wild monkeys
not fellows of his nation
fighting for democracy
2
they are animals
being imprisoned for life
they fought for freedom
you, humans have no reasons
for combating like monkeys
3
they are not cultured
on this democracy land
you are the people
why acting like animals
struggling for food in the wild
4
monkeys in the zoo
more civilized than humans
those fought in the house
for the dogmatic nonsense
too much blood was spilled on floors
5
villains in cities
hostile monkeys in the wild
both have the same style
whether they live in jungles
or american houses
6
where are decent men?
those who value and fight
for equality
of human beings on earth
regardless gender and race
7
you are the people
why allow a few monkeys
playing dirty game
in the name of your nation
to destroy democracy
8
it’s extremism
that makes minds blind, hearts hated
in comparison
of cultured men and monkeys
wild monkeys must feel ashamed
9
who are the people?
you or those in politics
con men on the loose
hold democracy hostage
for their corrupt emperor
10
humans in the zoo
when will they end their madness
it’s but a crude joke
dividing a great nation
democracy is at stake
11
who’s false and who’s true
whether they go left or right
it’s a roundabout
bigotry to a dead end
will they find any way out

“We the People”
"They the Monkeys"

Thao Chuong Tran Quoc Viet
Jan. 5, 2023

Tran does an outstanding job.
© James Horn  Create an image from this poem.

Several More Horrendious Horn Haiku

April is poetry month.

james horn is my name
prepare return is my game
much fortune and fame

were isolated
result of educated
specialists stated

hard to bare the course
make sure laws are all in force
after we endorse

one more round of beer
poetry month is now here
virus disappear

slept on my pillow
did dream of weeping willow
waves that did billow

we were deep in doubt
and should start using takeout
with flu had big bout

Jim Horn

I could have entered them
separately.
© James Horn  Create an image from this poem.

Several Haiku

Haiku
A season is over
Golden leaves softly fall
The breeze is absent.
 
Haiku
Bushes have the blooms
Still intact covered in dust
The town waits for storm

Haiku
Indoor plants sag too
Sorrowful for no reason
Longing for freedom 

Haiku
Umbrellas await 
Know their duty are coming
They have the courage

Received Several Requests

Received Several Requests

Did receive several requests to write this:
Point may refuse or maybe might miss;
Am bad news bearer;
Trump is holy terror,
And daily own death he does often kiss.

Jim Horn
© James Horn  Create an image from this poem.

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