Best Sickle Poems
Sickle moons have shone above me
In the dark of night,
Standing on the mountain edges
Writing by their light.
Fall with eagle wings of colour
Soared the starry skies,
Called its sickle moon of copper
To enchant my eyes.
Winter passed with silent footsteps
In one silent night,
left the world a stainless canvass
And a moon of white.
Spring woke as an early blossom
Blooming in the snow
never was there such an artist
Made a green moon grow.
Summer, daughter of the morning
Let the world behold,
As her fingers formed the perfect
Sickle moon of gold.
So the seasons passed before me
Still I stand and write,
In the dark on mountain edges
Sickle moons my light.
BETRAYAL - FICKLE DEATH'S SICKLE
Life is short, death is sure,
Much is better left unsaid
In this painful life we endure
Many thorns we may have to tread
As death freezes,
Loved ones fall prey to deadly diseases,
Death with His sickle cuts as He pleases,
Sparing no one, He runs rampant,
While we survive, our lives stagnant,
Reminiscing those absent...
For Death's betrayal, what is the cure?
Blood tears that we shed??
Fickle Death's sickle displeases
Our will to live in torn fragment...s...
11/08/18
Fragmented Rhyme Contest-November 2018 Writing Challenge
Dear Heart a.k.a Broken Wings
I was in a hurry
To weight only forty
Had no time for a drawn
out diet
So decided I would try it
Bought a sickle
Carved off my flesh
It didn't tickle,
But the blood was fresh
Got on the scale,
With my dying breath
Couldn't read the weight
Too much blood
And it was now too late
I probably weighted but twenty
A skeleton was I
Exceeded my desired weight loss
But for this I had to die.
reaper’s sickle flies…
far above battlefield cries
scorched and bleeding skies
By Robb A. Kopp
You returned sooner than we expected and you were never sluggish
Same Mike we knew but these episodes kept happening
I remember one day you told us strongly that you were going to be fine
You said you had superpowers, your cells were mutated and the bad weather was your weakness
Just as kryptonite was to superman and yellow was to Green Lantern
At that moment we all wished super heroes never had weaknesses.
I sit here on your birthday eighteen years later thinking about where you could be now
At least now I understand what you were going through
After all you beat all the superheroes by inheriting mutant cells and your superpowers
You never had them by accident and you fought your way through your weakness
We all never realized that Aunt Martha’s boring math class was the last we sat next to each other
I never accepted that I wasn’t going to see you again
I believed you went to fight a war to save humanity and in that you sacrificed yourself
I know you perished as a hero Mike.
Now I know you fought a war against yourself
You fought against those tiny sickle shaped enemies who combine to inflict pain
Yet you fought hard through the pain, temperature change and every bad weather
You were strong because you fought against many of them in your veins
How I wish I could have fought alongside you.
You were the big dreamer Mike and though you struggled.
You gave us hope to move on and to be superheroes in our own right
To draw strength from our weakness and pray to God our sidekick
With all I am now, I draw my inspiration from you for how strong you were
And how proud I am of you now that I fully understand your condition
Now that I have the power to save lives you are nowhere to be found
As the word of our favorite vacation song sang
“When you miss my smile just look at the stars in the sky and know I’m thinking about you too”
And that’s exactly what I will do till I see you again.
We had dreams of being who we wanted to be
I still remember we playing around the backyard and riding bikes
Imitating our various superheroes and everything seemed possible
Strong and happy we were and we fought through every day fiercely
In the back of our minds nothing could stop us
Now I am drenched heavily by this daily reminiscing
All these faded on the day the harmattan before Christmas showed up
When Aunt Martha and Sir Mark rushed you out of class to the hospital
And that begun the end of our episodes as kids
I sat there wondering if you were going to be fine
My mind plagued on the worst but I only hoped for the best
Aunt Martha explained you had an illness and said you will be fine
I remember how I asked mum if you were going to be alright
She kept saying your condition was special but you were going to return normal
She kept on saying you might not be the Mike I use to play a lot with
I just hoped and prayed you never changed.
Old Father Time offered for sale
Used scythes Death designed to impale
The demos were free
But if you ask me
Those buyers looked woefully pale!
One mystic blue night dead still,
I’ll steal the silver full moon,
break it into sharp shards,
and stow them in the backyard
under the shadow of the creepy cloud.
The dark devils will enter with fiend
my anguished heart beating vengeance,
hit hard by the moonless dreary darkness,
and make my boiling enraged blood
turn into lacerating incisive lancet.
The sinister scarlet elixir in my veins
the night will drink like wine,
the shining sequined full moon lost,
it’ll make a black one hollow,
darker than the dread of doomsday.
When the impious wolves will slash
the neck of the frozen stillness,
their ominous bark in the chilled air
will shred the nocturnal chastity, it's time
for moon plucking from sordid shadow.
They cunningly ensnare in an instant
the naive malleable minds unaware,
skillfully wrap with mute trance
the innocent hearts trapped
in the travesty tangle of love.
I’ll slit open their deceitful throats,
slice the reveling saccharine lips
with the harvested sickle moon.
When Women Like a Sickle
Women are not from a rib or bones
Nor curved or crooked
You need a metaphor to understand truth
Said a sage his name is Aristotle
Don’t straight a stick
Or make a spoon flat
They will be broken and become useless
If a woman appears like an angle
Or looks like a moon, sickle
Find them a corner or a swath of grass
You will get her the best
Or see the best of her
In cutting and collecting while brightly she will shine.
What is it like in that moment before the end--
When the abyss stares at you through and through--
I'd think you'd not know--
For Time makes no sound when the sickle reaps
To hear the sickle reap
To hear the sickle reap
5/25/'14
waves of golden wheat
interspersed with red poppies
falling to sickle
first Place Winner: A Brian Strand 2 to 5 lines Contest-8/23/21
Third Place: JCB Brul- Traditional Haiku-6/5/20
Could it your fancy tickle:
The fluid you need does trickle;
Legs once free like vehicles
On Stopped Feet of Manacles?
Won’t it up get one’s hackles
That one often tasks tackles
Others’ Wrists not in shackles
For what one down to buckles?
You others tag ‘The Fickle’
Fit only for the sickle;
Expo sure to ridicule:
Lots of in Article
That you know “Just Bicycle”
Swearing on “No Icicle!”
Honestly, I won’t like it,
Though shan’t jump into a pit!
Trumpet & the Sickle
The scrolls were opened
Only the Lamb of God, worthy
To open the scrolls of life, light
The death Angel protecting the gates
Only a locket filled with fine sachet
Crossed upon my heart, forehead
Saved by grace,
to record the trumpet call
This mortal body weakened
By battles, constant battles
Of Heaven against Hades
Serving God’s glorious creations
Humanity & Earth
Granted the feather of Seraphim’s claws
A diadem eye, greater in physics than Newton
Conquering science, a mere woman
Humbled and closed gates of Cherubim
Protection granted
In a chamber protected by black onyx
Light, perfect light
Clean, heat with glorious power
A gift from God
Hades sending every weapon
To defeat me
Fear filling every man
Whom must now bow in humility
Beg, you must beg to survive!
Some knew no God
Worshiping knowledge
Having none
They will be utterly confounded & beaten
Fine perfume I made for the Lord
Mixing death and life
By directive having now the power
Given as a gift from our Christ
He our King given the only true
Power and divine right
To destroy humankind
By his word in an instant
To send volcanoes and earthquakes
Mixing rare oils
In fine scents poured upon humankind
Giving warning
To heal an earth
Covered in wickedness
With a mere machine I type
The saving of earth from utter ruin
Your message now given in
A twinkle of the eye
In a moment through his
Handmaiden servant
You are warned
God saving only his creations
Open the gates lest all perish!
Shine the light of God
Upon the earth
Thrusting God’s great sickle
Of divine right, providence
Upon you all
Lest none of you be saved!
Pity upon you
Whom think your righteous.
Your trumpet is now called
The sickle
Cuts deep!
Moon by day, a sight to behold,
Myths and legends, forever told,
Spiritual growth, transformation,
The gibbous moon is a stunning creation.
Sunrise and sunset, a time to reflect,
In the stories of the age, we must respect,
For under the sickle moonlight,
Mythical transformations bear flight.
Werewolves howl, vampires roam,
Mermaids swim, unicorns stir foam,
Shape-shifters, fairies, and shore,
All come alive, under the moon allure.
The sickle moon, a symbol of change,
A time of growth, to rearrange,
To shed aged skin, and embrace the view,
To transform into something true.
Under the sickle moonlight,
We too can alter, and bear flight,
Embrace our inner myths and magic,
And become something truly fantastic.
So let us dance, under the moon glow,
And let our spirits flow.
Written: June 06, 2023
The sickle-sharp moon slowly slashes the smoldering sky
that darkens purple with the aging of dusk when lights die.
At times like this our ancient hermit leaves his mountain cave
to talk to you of dreams, visions, freedom for every slave.
Although his eyes are haunted portholes of a sunken ship,
embers behind them transfix you in a hypnotist's grip.
His hoarse voice, like dried leaves blown and dragged along the sidewalk,
drones on and on, and even in your sleep you hear him talk.
And just when you think you've understood him, he's gone so soon,
but he'll be back another night of the sickle-sharp moon !