Best Silver Bullet Poems
Wading through fragmented thoughts
Searching for one last poetic line
To slip around a shattered heart
Then shaped into a perfect bow
Pulsating softly like guitar strings
As they begin to play real slow
Replacing old queasy emotions
With melodic breezes that flow
Through the canyons of mind
Once found in a bottle of whiskey
That has now been left behind
Gliding in Texas two-step rhymes
To the Silver Bullet Band we bid goodnight
Our last dance becomes
A mellow tune that only Seger hums
We dance between the verses of smoothed out lines
That seem to roll endlessly through gifted minds
To be left off the page, until they shine
NEWS FLASH
“Look out for vampires!
For sure they’re very charming
I’d say disarming
Don’t look into their eyes
Or you’re in for a surprise!
Don’t think they are sweet
They think you are something to eat
Their eyes are like fire
Burn with erotic desire
Look out for vampires!
Are there defenses?
They say wear a garlic clove
Garlic they don’t love
Or fire a silver bullet
Sorry that is full-of-it!
Carve a wooden stake
Drive it deep into the heart
The soul will depart
You have to catch them asleep
But don’t let your cell-phone beep
Vampires hate the sun
It melts their skin that aint no fun
They sleep in a dark box
Fully clothed plus shoes and sox
Let's all keep a vampire watch
This poem for Van Helsing's "Toothy" contest
catalyse of chalk
circles sooted box, reveals
the vortex inside
stakes open her eyes
pries into her private life
draws blood with madness
insists a deep cut of ties
a vampire’s bite sucks
glistens under moon-lightning
with darkening of iris
the rectangle shut
and discomforting inside
the satin lining
that swaddles her until when
feeds the lack of blood pressure
buried in the earth
instead of mausoleum
means she is fated
until flood rains dredge her up
bitterly famished and ripe
her tormentor’s plot
enjoying her plight of pangs
and her screaming fangs
that engulf her first victim
she begs a silver bullet
…and who will shoot first
the gun, with no reflection,
or the too-white teeth?
does lover want to join her
or distribute her ashes?
the two quick rounds nail
tormentor, his protogé
bloodthirst vanishes
end of bad day, sky’s crimson
and the hungry are looming.
Broken and battered
slipshod and shattered
we've all but hidden
amongst the scattered
Lost in our wake
we fake and then take
shelter oblivious
to what's truly at stake
Trembling in fear
from the darkness near
trying to hold on
to what we hold dear
Our heart cry's are hollow
while we stand strong to follow
all along,
it's a tough pill to swallow...
It's easier to sedate
then to truly relate
purposeful forgetting
instead of facing the slate
During the course of our sleep
we must try hard to keep
that feeling inside
which reach far and deep
There is no silver bullet
no magic pill to pull us
from this stupor
we have fallen to dullness
We are all searching for answer's
which we won't find on paper
written in our heart's
is our creator's Love draper...
On the distant horizon a thick cloud appeared!
Could it be?...so near?....a storm danger?
Closer and closer the picture came clearer!
It's the masked man they call the Lone Ranger!
Come lightning, thunder or rain!
the Lone Ranger rides again!
with Tonto an Indian friend...
on Silver a horse he named,
In old wild western TV days!
they rendered justice for mankind!
and jailed all those with evil ways!
one silver bullet at a time!
And often some would ask...
who's that man wearing that mask?
Is he trouble?...are we in danger?
No! that's no stranger! They'd say!...
That's the Lone Ranger!...
Hi! Yo! Silver away! He'd say!
As he rode away.
I fought in a war a few many years ago they called it Vietnam but I called it hell. My unit
and I were in battle it was starting to get dark and somehow the unit got separated. I
keep walking through the jungle to find them. But out of nowhere I herd gun fire I know
rite then I had just been ambushed I took more bullets then I could count. I know it has
been year’s sense that night but it feels like it happened yesterday. When my unit
found me they thought I was dead but somehow I had hung on. I had lost so much
blood it was not a pretty sight they all thought I was going to die for sure. The pain
was so unbearable I just wanted to die. I still hung on I am not quite sure why I really
thought I was going to die. But God had his hands on me if it would not have been for
the miracle God gave me I would not be telling you this story. I thank God everyday for
saving my life that night. Because getting shot by fifteen bullets is quite a fright I should
have died that night. But God had something better for me in his plan. After the war
they gave me a purple heart but I must have had a heart of steal to make it through.
My unit gave me a nickname which I carry with me now still today. They call me the
silver bullet the brave soldier who lived.
The concrete is rough
He acts so tough
But it’s the softest thing he’s felt in a long time
The buildings are too sublime
A silver bullet would be a crime
He’s never been fine
He already tried the scent of pine
Others suggested rhymes
His watch says it’s almost time
Time to change this ebb and flow
Time to cross the lines he’s always known
To be his home
He’s always alone
It’s better that way
He used to go to church to pray
But he got caught up in the havoc
Of life, his ears filled with static
He opens his eyes
No one sees him cry
They tell him he should try
So he tries something new
Something that tastes blue
Which is better than grey
He won’t even have to pay
The sun is too bright
So he chose to do it at night
Where he can fight
With himself in the cover of darkness
Maybe this is craven
Nevertheless, he seeks a haven
For the first time he feels okay
This is where most people would pray
Not him, his god died long ago
Killed by the demons he can’t show
Instead he implores the cars
That they move quickly under the hidden stars
I take a deep breath
Not looking as I step into oncoming traffic
Make sure you warn your kids; this next scene is graphic.
Chronic Pain – The Beginning
You snuck into my life in the 1998th of May,
Everything about me wishes that you’d go away,
My whole being longs to feel good strong and well,
But for the last 18 years each day has nothing new to tell,
Chronic pain I hate you, chronic pain I hate you…
My story is I used to be athletic but that changed for me,
Playing sports of every kind enjoying being wild and free,
Your gifts to me were all new forms of aches, pains and fretting,
The simplest things became so hard to do plus deeply upsetting,
Chronic pain my rage, chronic pain my rage…
People see us walk and talk and think deep down this guy is fine,
They do not see the inward battle that is stealing all that was mine,
The real me is gone and he is not coming back for he has died,
Oh one truth is my heart is breaking and I just want to run and hide,
Chronic pain the robber, chronic pain the robber…
Those who have been fighting long now just put on a pleasant face,
Family, friends no longer stop by or care thinking we are a disgrace,
We simply do whatever our bodies will allow us to do each day,
Telling fibs to those who happen to ask us how are you anyway,
Chronic pain my enemy, chronic pain my enemy…
What will you do to me tomorrow trust me when I say I can wait,
Comfort sanity good things to think about to get me through this date,
God give me a silver bullet please restore me to my former self,
I’m tired of sitting on the sidelines watching my life from on a shelf,
Chronic pain please be gone, chronic pain please be gone…
Written by – William Arthur Tell
2Cor.12:10 – Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ’s sake: for when I am weak, then am I strong.
A self-assured progressive projectile
Locked on its target like a heat seeking missile
Confident, a smile all the while
Marvellous like a polished marble tile
Strong, but fragile
An ambiguous profile
To remain unresolved, a mystery file
Trendy, always in style
Smooth like a silky textile
A lioness on the prowl
Hear her roar, fear her growl
The feminization of a species
A natural selection of beauties
A temper so feline
A manner so divine
An awesome design
A perfect being born to reign
A mind map that he can neither navigate nor define
A mosaic that only He can refine
Provoked, her stride is heavy
It is a charge to envy
Her walk is easy
It can mislead as lazy
It is a march through boundaries and norms
A journey of a million no’s and no yes’s
An irrational continuation to an unknown destination
A premonition to know, to sacrifice for the unborn generation
A hope that peace will come no matter how dark the skies
The intuition to continue to love when hate fills the air with cries
An incessant knock on that closed door
The insatiable hunger to always wanting to know
A road laden with thorns and paved with broken glass
A never ending test in an unassailable class
At times, it is a burdened conquest
A seemingly impossible quest
At the end of which the rewards are already taken
A rigged race, the winner already chosen
The credit to someone less deserving
Her pain from a tradition undiscerning
But she’s unstoppable like a silver bullet
Hitting with penetrating impact
Her dreams riding on the tail of a comet
Untouchable like a rocket to a far away planet
Decorated, an achievement in perseverance
An acknowledgement of her undeniable presence
The order of a female monarchy
Female atop the hierarchy
A proven recipe
His failed conspiracy
I was bitten by a Werewolf and now I'm undead.
I was a mortal man but now I'm immortal instead.
I'm responsible for many deaths because I'm a Wolfman.
Many people have tried to kill me but they never can.
They never use silver bullets when they fire their guns.
People can never escape even though they try to run.
When I change back to human, I'm covered in blood and gore.
I want somebody to use a silver bullet, I can't take it anymore.
I can see that the moon is full tonight as I look up at the sky.
I'm about to become the Wolfman and more people will die.
Unless somebody does what is needed, things will get worse.
Somebody must use a silver bullet and end this horrible curse.
The Masque
By Rick Rucker
I go about my daily task,
Covered by my spiffy mask,
I ride Silver into town,
To save those, trodden down,
Accompanied, as I am, by Tonto,
I must get the bad guys, pronto!
It would seem to be my Fate,
To clean up a town in half an hour, never late!
I wear the mask, not as a disguise,
It helps accentuate my eyes,
I should really ride my horse side saddle,
But it would be awkward going into battle!
Next, I am thinking of adding, to my mask, some lace,
I think it would help to frame my face!
I never stay in one place,
Quickly, out of town we race,
I am thinking of growing a mullet,
So much less expensive a memory than a silver bullet!
As we ride out, past the church and steeple,
I think I will join The Village People!
The werewolf hunter came to town to help the people fight
The moon was getting larger and would soon be full and bright
Those vicious hairy beasts would savage townsfolk all night long
But now they’ll find they’re up against a man who’s sure and strong
The werewolf hunter went to work and got himself an aide
He gave the man one thing to do and said, “You’ll be well paid.”
The aide was known to local people as ‘Come-Again Ben’
His hearing wasn’t great but he worked cheaper than most men
So, by and by, the moon was full; the howls that night were loud
The werewolf hunter stood before the chapel, tall and proud
He needed, then ‘Come-Again Ben’ to fetch what he required
But one Chrome-plated chicken meant his aide was promptly fired
The werewolves formed a circle and they found themselves a kill
The werewolf hunter and his aide were feeling rather ill
And then the moon shone brighter and as though of one shared thought
The werewolves bared their teeth and claws and launched their crazed assault
***
The werewolf hunter laid there, he was very close to death
His aide was also dying so each spoke with his last breath
The werewolf hunter garbled… “Just one tiny silver bullet?”
His aide said, “Sorry, Boss… I thought you said a silver pullet.”
I feel like Archimedes building calculus from scratch;
Got a lever I can lean on, but the fulcrum doesn’t match.
You’ll find them on the scoreboard
And every roulette wheel.
They help you cheat at blackjack
By sweetening the deal.
I feel like Isaac Newton making gravity a game,
Setting poetry in motion, riding Kepler’s horse to fame.
They figure into interest rates
to calculate the yield,
And help the fans identify
The players on the field.
I feel like Alan Turing cracking codes at Bletchley Park,
Decrypting the enigma of injustice in the dark.
They calculate the census,
And quantify amounts.
They’re handy for those vultures
Who tally body counts.
I feel like when Bob Seeger sang of bad arithmetic,
And rocked his Silver Bullet Band in Hindu Arabic.
They give a helpful estimate
Of what we’ll have to pay.
Just amortize your mortgage rate
And wait for Judgement Day.
The sleeping lambs nestled in the
Silver bullet,
Hot from the gun.
They slumber through the sketches
Of Spain until finally
The veil of moisture meets plum lipstick
And it’s time to depart;
Time for the slaughterhouse.
They scurry out from their earthy tomb
And venture to what’s beyond the gun’s chamber
And easy womb.
Beady eyes flinch-
I want to be part of the herd!
O
but that is only possible
In this foreign land
If your dust forms the bricks
Or your skull is being sold
For £16
And has its righteous place on the shelf.
Being used as an amusing bookend
Along with serene Buddha.
To accept this binding contract is to understand
That we must question our obsession
To look like children or a withered old hag.
Not many souls wander the labyrinth like mine,
I guess they cannot commit their essence
To the stables and chambers
Where one nibbles on the carcasses
Of forms and blinks
At the silent wide eyed lambs.
no inspiration
winter is a lie
a thousand sayings
the damned rise and speak
fortunes and sex
fame and disease
cholera of the mouth
choking pleas
too much thought is burning down
golden paradise
in a book is gone
tv died in the 70’s
a silver bullet
a microchip
lost on the moon
landed in the broadcast