Best Stampeded Poems


If Only

If only it didn't just take a second to get to heaven
The devil's smiling, bet he didn't tell you it's the fast track to hell
My smile's only temporary, but so is this life sentence I've been given
I never was asked if I wanted to start living.

So I'm..
Hanging by a thread
My sanity is laughing at me
In the mirror, staring at the person 
Who seems to be wandering
Empty and lost, like a penny on tails
Unlucky and left behind, story of a person
Such as mine.

My confusion is confused
Piece of mind tattered and loose
The love song from my heart, sings to the wind
Carrying on, I think it's never to end
Because it winds like the river
Occasionally winks and sparkles
Off a sunset reflection, searching for a tomorrow
But sometimes deep blue
Sad, like the pulsing veins
Of a heartbroken poet
Insane in the brain.
 
If only you could see me, then maybe.
If only you could save me, yeah then maybe.

Then maybe
Tears wouldn't run down the face and
Hurry away from the pain in the eyes
Of a person with nightmares
And teardrop filled skies.

A person who dreams of a better tomorrow
But memories are the chains
Bearing back her heart 
And holding the jagged pieces together
From falling apart.

I'm lonely
Do you see my face?
I'm trying
To get a grip nowadays
Yeah you could help me
Get me out of this place
If only, yeah if only.

Hoping one day another
Will hear her song through the breeze
And linger back to the place 
Where she kneels hopelessly
Desired to be glued together
Band aid, or tacked
She just wants to become whole again
And never look back.
Wants to trampled by love
Stampeded to the beat
Of love and loyalty
Someone she can keep.

Her broken smile will reign
And she'll rip stanzas from her soul
Trickling toxic tragedies
Painting pictures in your eyes
Watch her sorrows like a movie
On replay in your mind.
 
Her theatre is her torture chamber
Lashing you down to your raw memories
Don't look around, don't hide
Don't let your mistakes trouble your mind
Your blood is flowing
And you've still got time
To change the future
Is to change your mind

Maybe, then maybe.
You could save me
After you save yourself
Then you could help me
I've got nobody else, if only.

Yeah
If only.
Categories: stampeded, hope, love, passion, visionary,
Form: Free verse

The Sinking Ship

Thus, came to an end,
both the depth of my breath,
and our happy sail,
on the waves of the pacific.

The iceberg pierced the giant,
sucked us,
of our joy and dreams,
families deserted and orphans born.

To those chilling waves,
we froze,
with jaws wide apart,
and our teeth went crystal.

Our tears went unnoticed,
superior were those,
icy beams of the pacific,
that froze our tears half way down.

we floated for hours,
on those old dusty structures of wood,
they could bear not more than one,
relations along with dreams, we had to sacrifice.

thus froze my body in the icy arms,
my pulse stampeded,
and hopes shattered
so speaks my soul from the distant skies. #PSM
Categories: stampeded, death, depression, journey, sea,
Form: Ballad

Mob Injustice

I was not in a wrong place 
Neither was it a wrong time when I met my fate
I was unarmed with my sweat’s worth
Another day’s dime in my pocket

I was confronted by a flood tide of an angry crowd
Their faces were unrecognizable, the voices too loud
I looked over my shoulder, there was no one in sight
Pointed accusing fingers rose, I started to take flight

It was too late to escape, the tide caught my feet
My whole body was stampeded and I failed to breathe
I tried to hang on to life but my arms where weak 
I could not swim to safety, the shore was bleak

My defenseless body succumbed to the violence
In the attacking mob’s fuming eyes I saw hell’s darkness
As I gasped for breathe 
My soul was unshackled from the earth

I ascended into the heavens in God’s hands
As my blood was dripping from my attackers palms
The vengeance became senseless, guilt swallowed their hearts
They left the scene heads down, could not look God in the eye 

But I was now free like a bird 
Rising above clouds the feeling transcends flying
I thought I would be dead
But on God’s right, I have just become undying
I cry for you now, you who are ladened with hate
I cry for you because the blood of the innocent is never drying

SAY NO TO MOB INJUSTICE
It is an injustice to an innocent soul, to your own soul and to all
Categories: stampeded, abuse, africa, anger, death,
Form: Rhyme

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Big, Bold and Brave

Big, Bold and Brave

To my wife have been her brilliant slave
So wrote something big, bold and brave.

Here it is.

Democrats send an email cute and clever
Saying needed my poems more than ever
Have new state governor who seems kind
Me as county poet laureate he assigned.

Poet laureate is in each county in state
Incredible idea that to us sounds great
Around libraries Governor likes to hover
We heard he has become a poetry lover.

What he does want for a grand finale'
Is for each county to have a poetry rally
At senior centers and desperately needed
There to hear poems supporters stampeded.

We will read poems at centers each week
Even if weather may be cold or bleak
And what we are leading up to know
You should listen to our poems somehow.

Me and my beautiful wife are well agreed
Job reading poems is exactly what I need
Something else that to me sounds great
Could be an advisor or maybe administrate.

Merton's self-fulfilling prophecy states that:
"If you define a situation as real, it is real
in it's consequences." I want this suggestion
to become real and am planting the idea
into your mind hoping it will sprout up in
the proper place. Now that it has become
your idea, your help and assistance would
be greatly appreciated.

James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Profound Poet and Retired Veteran
RiverSea Plantation
Bolivia, NC 28422
© James Horn  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: stampeded, allegory, analogy, encouraging, ,
Form: Couplet

The Stranger

He rode in from Texas, calmly chewing a piece of straw.
Folks rumored him a Ranger, some sorta man of Law.

An expressionless face, eyes close 'n stern.
Long barreled pistol, well kept 'n tied down firm.

It was the thirtieth of October, I remember it well.
Sit back 'n relax, I'll narrate the Stranger's tale.

Beer 'n whiskey shots, made the Stranger's tongue loose.
Tugs at his scarf, revealed scars from a noose.

Said he'd come to Denver, to escape the prairie fires.
Recipients of his story, placed him amongst certain liars.

Utterances of bright lights, in a calm night watch dream.
Stampeded cattle, loud voices 'n a haunting scream.

Empty hollow eyes, like death the Stranger was cold.
The annual midnight curse, is what the Ranger told.

Awoke in the saddle, by a Dark Angel of certain death.
Calm night air stirred, vapors rise from cattle's breath.

Focus controlled visions of the chilled dark night.
Squinted images appear from his questioned sight.

At one stroke past midnight, the curse we all had seen.
The Stranger changed to a man of straw, twas now Halloween!

By Jim "Ish" Fellers
Copyright © : August 31st, 2003 ~ Sunday
© Jw Fellers  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: stampeded, cowboy-westernnight, dark, dark, night,
Form: Cowboy Poetry

Premium Member The Poet

”He is a Poet”, It was said of him. 
And so they sought in proof a poem, made alone for them.
A tome for all the ages, every eye, and every ear.
Words of witness dedicating prose, to those would hear.
So he complied. Rolled up his muscled sleeve of thought
and pounding words like blacksmith sought, to swing them to his side.

For what is poetry but words, like cattle in stampeded herds,
or formal, business-structured, Oh so neat,
every word and every sentence measured to complete.
Why, he could write for days on end, make poetry, or just pretend,
as long as everything would just combine, 
to give the folks their simple endless rhyme.
But this is not a poem, as It has no heart.
True poems come, not on demand, but as with art, 
they are created by, an inspirations’ spark; 
then guided by one's passion to their universal mark. 

For what is poetry but prayer, holy in its plea
to set the heart of every person soaring ever free.
These words… these very words he wrote. He wrote for you;
that you would know the beauty in the moments shared, so few.
He could not give more love to you, than you already own;
if he might open all the hearts and souls of angels shone.
He could not add one ounce to all the joy you might allow
within each heartbeat, where we hear, the voice of God somehow.
A voice that whispers to us all, the word we need to grow,
"Love", the only word, a poets’ heart need ever know.
Categories: stampeded, identity, jobs, literature, poets,
Form: Rhyme


At First Glance

Contented! My life was perfectly fine.
Unaware - I did not know I needed
anyone till my eyes met yours, divine;
my unsuspecting heart torn, stampeded,
beset by tantalizing emotion.
The room - you on one side, me the other -
unsettled in this reeling commotion,
taunted, I feel claustrophobic, smothered.
My heart - set ablaze by love. She whose calm
was undisturbable is shaken now.
Approach I must, your eyes are gentle balm,
their light calling beneath your kingly brow.

I start your way, you turn t'ward me. I bow
before your throne...who was content...till now.

Copyright, July 7,2014
Faye Lanham Gibson
Categories: stampeded, emotions, heart, love,
Form: Sonnet

The Mighty Longhorn Chair

Clayton King was a cattle baron
With ranges like far flowin’ seas,
And thousands of Texas longhorns
Roilin’ around like swarms of bees.

He built a huge cedar ranch house
With everything he needed there,
And oversaw his vast empire
Right from his mighty longhorn chair.

He had huge sets of longhorns,
Some more that eight feet of course,
On walls and over fireplaces
And he even stuffed his first horse.

He was the greatest of the great,
His fame was everywhere—
It seemed he ruled the entire world
Right from that mighty longhorn chair.

Still the money stampeded in
And that King Ranch just beat all—
They said it was the world’s biggest
As it quickly did grow and sprawl.

Some say he just wasted money
On things that mattered so little—
That he always had the finest
But like Nero he just fiddled.

“I am the noble Clayton King
And my wealth is everywhere!”
So read the engraved inscription
On his still mighty longhorn chair.

In those long years the dollars flowed
And it seemed like it would not end—
Till a first then second wife left
Without leavin’ an heir or friend.

Then the cattle business changed
And money dried up like the creeks,
This went on for years and years,
Not just a few months or weeks.

The vast King Ranch then did dwindle
Till the day ol’ Clayton King died—
What was left went up for auction—
It seemed no one now cared or cried.

They tore down the house and buildings
And built a shopping center there—
And after that final auction,
I own that mighty longhorn chair.
© Glen Enloe  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: stampeded, cowboy-western, death, life, loss,
Form: Cowboy Poetry

Premium Member The River Styx

Below indigenous herds of species’
Soft stampeded tramplings,
Profound caves water rivers underground.

Roots grow their nether forests
Down to a shadow fathom depth of earth.
Tendrils leaf out only tuber leaves of dirt.

Flooded backs of charcoal catacombs
Snake like water moccasins through
Aquifers to rise disguised as springs and wells.

Here there is a bargeman who 
For pennies holding eyelids down
Will help you to forget

Vaguely chambered 
Urges of the heart.
Categories: stampeded, allegory,
Form: Free verse

Emancipation

Why do you try to confine me?
When clearly there is too much debris
In your life that leaves no accommodation for me 
Seems I have taken on a new profession 
As a warrior princess
Consistently confronting your battles
Feels like I've been stampeded
By a herd of cattle 
The melodramatic abuse I have suffered
Is too overwhelming for me
Seems as if I'm only an item to you 
Not a person who has been 
Scorned by you time and time again 
After this long drawn out war 
I stand well-established as a Queen 
And not as your whore 
Emancipate me from this mental imprisonment 
So i can move on with another that will engage
My life with love, passion, and tranquility 
Something you could never give 
Now release me....
So I may live on with my true king
Categories: stampeded, freedom, love,
Form: Free verse

Step On the Scale

Step on the Scale

Woke up and was afraid of how I would feel
Would I be happy full of so much sex appeal
Or whole day ended up being big nightmare
As I complained a lot and started to swear.

Where was God when He had been needed?
While watching all my sins that stampeded
To do them temptation of often had to fight
Even though sins weigh nothing and are light.

Have any sins you actually tried to weigh
Stood on scale and long time seemed to stay
After that would start to moan and groan
Weight which I had seen was my very own.

Was loved by God and He gave me some slack
And many memories to me He brought back
But still from weight program proceeded to fail
Everytime when I would step on the scale.
© James Horn  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: stampeded, funny, humorous,
Form: Couplet

The Rose That Did Not Wither

Did u hear bout the flower that lived without no water or sunlight
It was a rose
A white rose
So striking
So beautiful
So wonderful
It had minimal space to grow
So much facts to know
It was not cared for,neglected
And still it did not wither

It had hurtful animals and weather close by
But they all seemed to pass by
This rose was lonely and looked sad
Deprived of love and sympathy
It was strong however
It was courageous
It was not cared for,neglected
And still it did not wither

It found a way
To live each day by each day
When someone passed by the rose they
trampeled,stampeded,shawned
It was not cared for 
And still it did not wither
Categories: stampeded, hope, inspirational, uplifting, rose,
Form:

My Eyes Beheld a Goddess

My eyes beheld a goddess
     The first time I saw you
Descending that grand staircase
     Wrapped in a velvet blue

With each step, a raven curl
     Unfolded in the sway
How it danced in candlelight
     I remember to this day

Your dark eyes caught my gaze
     I was stilled yet my mind pleaded
Why would you ever speak to me
     My heart beats raced, stampeded

But then, through lovely red stained lips
     Your honeyed voice – “ Hello”
Began a lifelong friendship
     And forged a sweet Tableau
     

In honor of by beautiful friend – Diane
8/31/17
Categories: stampeded, beauty, friend, friendship, love,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Conquering the Crab Legged Crone

One legged evil brownie with a lopsided top hat
Was tired of crab legged crone thinking she was all that
Her feather and sword gave her instant jurisdiction
Her thought her followers fell under some addiction.

Her flag-waving ways were annoying to Buggy B Biff
She smelled like a cadaver for he had caught a whiff.
She was beyond ugly with twelve ruffled hideous boots
He put on his spurs, gun belts, and plaid bagpipe flutes.

She was stirring up the women. He saw his own wife!
Who was screeching and screaming, holding a silver knife.
He crept up slowly to Creelah, the crab-legged crone.
All he wanted her to do was to leave the women alone.

Bam! The trigger was pulled before he even realized.
He had shot the old skeleton dead, he quickly surmised.
The women stampeded the stage, and kicked him to death.
The last thought he had was, I should not have taken the meth.
Categories: stampeded, fantasy,
Form: Rhyme

Ain'T It All Just One Long Ol' Ride?

Me and Ben were fresh-scrubbed farm boys
Come to Wyoming fer the thrill,
We had twenty dollars twixt us,
But knew we’d climb the highest hill.

Then Ben got suckered in card games
And I spent the rest on bar gals—
We was down and out in Cheyenne,
Then started hangin’ at corrals.

Jest ‘bout the time I sold my horse
And almost called this a bad joke,
A tall, dark trail boss then offered
Me and Ben jobs as new cowpokes.

Sam Nightshade showed us some respect,
He didn’t want to hurt our pride—
He knew we wren’t cowboys and said,
“Ain’t it all just one long ol’ ride?”

Then he took the time to train us
And ‘fore long we were ridin’ herd,
And we would have both killed or stole
If Sam had only said the word.

Well, the years stampeded by fast—
We knew Sam was on his last legs,
Then he told Ben ta be the boss
And live life to its final dregs.

And as Sam put his horse in a trot,
His body went limp and he died,
But we caught him ‘fore he hit ground,
“Ain’t it all just one long ol’ ride?”

Though sad, I was soon resentful
‘Bout Ben bein’ the new trail boss—
Wasn’t Sam eatin’ me inside,
Reckon it was the double-cross.

Never said a word ‘bout it for years
But it gnawed a hole deep in me—
And I oiled up my .44
And practiced on an ol’ ash tree.

Then one night alone on the trail,
I found Ben where he could not hide
And shot him once clean through the head,
“Ain’t it all just one long ol’ ride?”
© Glen Enloe  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: stampeded, cowboy-western, death, friendship, philosophy,
Form: Cowboy Poetry
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