Best Standing(A) Poems
Sun golden shining warm upon the back speaks
wind cutting cold chills freezing thoughts held
captivating love standing a vigil faraway dream
Touching warm fingers of light in a deep blue painted sky
bewitching clouds gunbarrel grey shooting magic wishes
silver shading arrow points out into the softest peach charms spells
Everything spellbinding shines amazing beautiful enchanting
snow covered mountains cold winds howling and whistling tunes
bells in the distance calls you're the rock one clings to on Trawbrega's shores
Drawing behind the eyes wind bellowing whispers a blessing tides turn waves
inside joy burns one candle warmly flickering happiness butterflies dance
blue blazes to see the soul of a deeply treasured jewel forever sings
unrhymed tercet
Categories:
standing(a), angel, beautiful, beauty, butterfly,
Form:
Terza Rima
The man stumbled on, wanting to get as far away as possible
the sights he had seen and lived through too terrible to contemplate.
How could another human deliberately inflict such awful things on another.
He could see a gentle stream of smoke arising from the distant chimney
and headed for the shelter it offered, staggering on until he reached it.
It was a pretty cottage nestled deep into the hillside and isolated.
He tumbled through the door and collapsed on the floor.
Mistily he drifted in then out of consciousness unable to focus
aware vaguely of a gentle touch that soothed and replenished.
He drank from the cup pressed to his lips and then let go.
The old lady shook her head at the follies of mankind,
and set to work bandaging his festering wounds.
She made a drawing potion to clean out the poison
that had taken a fierce hold racking him with fever.
Then she covered him and stoked up the fire.
For three days he lay in a coma muttering about the war,
not an ordinary one, oh no, this war caused carnage.
Evil stalked the land every hand turned against the other.
Sons killing fathers and brothers and to what point?
A simple disagreement about Creed had started this.
Weakened by the ravages he was slow to fully heal
yet he learned much from the old lady causing him to rethink.
To look at things with eyes a-new seeing the other point of view.
These new values he took with him when he left thanking her gratefully.
He set out on a new route, his task now to heal and bring peace.
Standing a-midst the crowd on a small hillock he taught them new values
not by preaching as such but by parables that showed the way to peace.
After all he would say; Pause and Think, For What are We without hope?
Everything gone by can be changed, all we have to do is care and act.
So lit the small flicker in your heart and fan up a healing blazing flame.
Categories:
standing(a), dark, hope, war,
Form:
Epic
Alone I'm standing; a tall poplar tree
With many of my kind alongside me
All standing here in solidarity
Together as one when we need to be.
There are times when we need to be alone
To enjoy the deep bliss of solitude
For any wrongdoings we must atone
Pay your debts to others; peace is assured.
Be like that tall tree as you live your life
By helping others to nurture and grow
And protect all the young from earthly strife
From within your heart you can make it so.
So stand tall and proud majestically
Being part of the forest when needs be.
Written on 17th September 2020.
Categories:
standing(a), life, nature, tree,
Form:
Sonnet
What is it to be a Tree?
Do trees ever mind being so close ...so intertwined ?
Do they ever long for space as I do?
Do they prefer to be so meshed…branches touching branches
all the time or do they like me long
............................................................for autonomy
Do their branches reach for another’s touch?
….................stretching to find it?
Do they cling and pine when isolated …as we do sometimes?
When a tree falls does another one grieve?
...............................................................
Do they sometimes wish to be free?
To be as free
as he does....... from me?
Does life always include such serious stuff?
Or do trees simply shift in the breezes
of superfluous fluff?
Do they ever
wish
to find
the sea?
To fly
to fly?
just
like me?
What on earth is it like ....to be?
to be a standing…a standing only ...are they lonely?
beloved tree?
What is it?
to be a tree?
Categories:
standing(a), beauty, love, metaphor, philosophy,
Form:
Free verse
In an era long since passed, an Oriental carpet adorning the
floor from far off lands seems to object to the
leopard skin beneath a fair maiden’s feet, yet this English lass
seems oblivious as she stares blankly at the floor
in deep contemplation of her sweetheart and suitor
standing a respectable distance from her
with his top hat humbly held in his hand.
His countenance is one of uncertainty, quite ready to
plead his veracity and intention should her father care
to honor his sincerity with an understanding ear.
He feels a bit consumed and cold standing near
the grandeur of the unlit hearth.
He is attired in his finest to court his fair maiden though
little notice is taken from her stern yet loving father who only
wants to see his daughter marry into a dignified and wealthy
family that will elevate his own standing in the community.
The young maiden’s mother is trying to sway her husband’s
judgment in favor of the young man to appease
her daughter’s romantic affections.
The young maiden’s mother, dressed in an exquisite expensive
pale pink ensemble makes a stunning statement of breeding
and manners as she softly coaxes the kinder side of her husband
to appear by placing both hands lovingly upon his breast.
Her father’s clenched fist reveals his determination not to give in.
The lovely maiden spent hours readying herself for this special
occasion, the day in which her young man would come to ask
her father for her hand in marriage. She had been trying to calm
herself by embroidering his initials on a dresser scarf until
her young man arrived, as evidenced by her sewing container opened
partly as she hurriedly placed the scarf back in when he arrived.
Now listening to her father’s words of rejection she holds little hope
of a future with her beloved and contemplates her life without him.
Yet as her mother pleads her case for them to be together she knows
there is very little her mother asks of him he can say no to.
Categories:
standing(a), conflict, family, first love,
Form:
Narrative
I used to live in France, near the Champagne region.
My favorite Notre Dame cathedral is not the one in Paris;
Rather it is Notre Dame de Rheims.
After many battles, Jeanne D'Arc helped the Dauphin Charles
Be crowned the king of France there.
There are many statues in France of Jeanne D'Arc.
Most of them show her riding a horse with sword held high.
I've see that image in many Places in the north.
My favorite statue of her is in Notre Dame de Rheims.
She looks to be standing a vigil in her armor
With her battle flag posted behind her.
I've also been to Place Jeanne D'Arc in the city of Rouen,
Where the British tormented, interrogated, and immolated her.
It didn't look like a sad place, but I felt sad there for her.
I don't know if she really heard angelic voices,
But her story always inspired me--
Probably the only non-Biblical saint that ever did.
Categories:
standing(a), christian, hero, history, inspiration,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Dirty and helpless,
You found me.
Wandering and homeless,
You became my home.
Cold and shivering,
You gathered me.
You built me a city strong than Rome,
Feared and avoided like a skin disease.
Thirsty and hungry,
You took me in.
And made me the dolphin, you the sea.
Standing a lone like a desert tree,
Swaying and bending to the passing winds.
You let me rode over your spreading wing,
Far we went ,you still carried me.
Tired you became, you moved on your knees,
And I on your back I grew to be free.
My heart, your room you paid your fee,
From your pain I made you this golden key,
But for your callused feet, I will be the shoe.
Categories:
standing(a), boyfriend, cute love,
Form:
Romanticism
Looking forward to the holiday of a lifetime,
Destination never before ever undertaken,
A very scary journey for me, I can only imagine being,
As a first time traveler across the world,
From my cold homeland of England,
To flying high, into the brilliant bright blue sky,
Looking out as the fluffy clouds float by,
Bound for sun, sea and glorious sand,
Majorca Island here I come, that’s my plan,
Suitcase is packed, passport at the ready,
At my age, my world never expected,
My whole life through, a dream to come true,
What will I do? My desire! First thing, I’ll do,
Take a very large drink then taste in the view,
Enjoying and fun, or taking the plunge,
Swimming or diving, a boat ride to islands,
Or just sunbathing not burning,
But thinking more drinking, some more eating,
And a lot of entertaining,
Having a wonderful time,
Or just standing a while,
Experiencing the different lifestyle and culture,
Of the Spanish people.
Then very sadly flying back.
Reminiscing for the rest of my life,
And saying “I did that” Wish I was there once again.
So watch out for me! Because here I come.
Categories:
standing(a), poetry,
Form:
Rhyme
She lays you down in bed
As you start to fall asleep
She stares at your face
While you start to dream
She rubs your head
In the motion of a stream,
As you finally dose
She looks at your eyes
You are now on an adventure
Searching in the skies.
The woman I speak of
Is also called mom
She makes sure you are happy
From dusk until dawn
She never gets mad
Over a mess of your toys
She doesn’t overact
When you make a lot of noise
The clock spins around
As time passes by
This young baby girl
Is now in Junior High,
More independent she stands
At this time in her life
She is starting to figure out
What’s wrong and what’s right
Although this is true
Her mother is still there
To comfort her in need
And stroke at her hair
The clock jumps again
To when the girl is eighteen
By this time in life
It is the world she has seen
Starting to pay bills
And live a bit free
Her mom is still there
Standing a bit back
But showing she still cares,
A few months pass
While the girl must engage
Not meaning a wedding
But walking a stage
This young adult
Is going to finish cool
As she grabs her diploma
And graduates high school
She feels so happy
To hold it in her hand
But way deep inside
This girl cannot hide
She know she would not be here
Without her mom by her side
She runs up to hug her
While down fall the tears
The clock has now skipped
A few more years
This girl is now twenty
Almost twenty-one
By the time her mom reads this
School will be done
The girls name is Brandi
I’m not talking about wine
The great name above
Is actually mine
My mom is my power
She keeps my head strong
She backs me up
Even when I’m in the wrong
Her name is Cindy
But I call her mom
This poem is for her
Because she is the bomb
The Poem was written by,
Brandi Nichole Hodgson
Categories:
standing(a), adventure, blessing, childhood, deep,
Form:
Rhyme
Chasing The American Dream Part 2
When one is young and restless, seeking success and satisfaction for the future..
Some have burning drive to transverse land and oceans to achieve their hearts' desires ..
From Bolehland to the United States of America, air travel is not a small matter....
One needs to up to 21hours of flying time, before one steps foot on the land yonder...
Some 40years ago, a classmate that I don't really knew, braved the unknown.....
Emboldened by the vision of better fortunes in The Land Of The Free that's America...
4decades later, there she is, an American Chinese citizen, originally from Bolehland....
All too obvious, she has conquered her fears and apprehensions and prospered...
The years and hardships she suffered, those are long gone as waters under the bridge...
What matters now is her present standing, a successful American living the American dream...
Far remote from the many turmoils that bubble and threaten the very land she left behind...
Today in Bolehland, racial and religious strife underlines the many differences in the country...
(To be continued)....
Categories:
standing(a), america, celebration, change, character,
Form:
Free verse
An unfinished afternoon lies strewn across my desk
Along with an uneaten breakfast neglected by my left
While I tap-tap-tap my fingers absent-mindedly on the table-top
As I impatiently await for the time
When along comes my long-awaited passer-by
Now here she comes! Here she comes—
Like an Eastern sun rising through the darkened dawn;
She with gaiety a-light on those Oriental eyes
That further gleams with her every greeting and a smile.
Yet I—I could not meet those eyes
For fear that upon that good morning greeting
I would simply die and...
How many seconds passed, or moments did?
I finally to myself did ask,
For when I came to from that spell though fleeting
She was in front of me at last.
Her smile now mine, my gaze was hers
And my wandering mind left me to wonder
How close she was that I could reach for her hand
And it would be as much
Silkenly as I imagined her skin would be at my touch;
Or how exhilarated—enraptured—would I be should her heart
Be confined within the circle of my arms.
The world would be a place less lonely—alas,
If only reveries could last!
Now did I greet in kind, nor even spoke at all?
I finally to myself did ask
For when I came to from that spell though fleeting
She'd been a couple paces past
And there I was left standing, a fool with nothing
But the trailings of her scent
That flowery fragrance she adorns herself with
For a beloved must be meant.
Thus with such small tokens as smiles and scents
I keep myself contented
And feed my endless reveries
Imagining a time and place where her love
May at my mercy be
Though I wake from those daydreams empty
Disheartened by the dawning in my mind that desire
Is a thirst that in my throat dies
Each and every time.
Each and every time.
Yet by this time tomorrow I would still be by my desk
And an unfinished afternoon still strewn across as well
Never reckoning if ‘tis worth my while waiting,
Though I would still be waiting for the time
When along comes my long awaited passer-by.
Categories:
standing(a), love, me, time,
Form:
Free verse
Ages there are in which the ration'l man
And th'intuitive stand side by side, the one
In fear of intuition, or scorn for abstraction;
Irrational one, the other inartistic.
They both desire to rule over their life,
Unreal or real, counting life to be.
Prudence, foresight and regularity,
The means with which one meets needs principal.
One o'erjoyed hero disregards these needs,
Counts life as beauty and an illusion.
As in the 'case in ancient Greece, th'intuitive,
Handles his weapons authoritatively,
Victoriously than his opponent, and
Establishes art's mastery over life.
All utensils we use in daily life,
Were made from art, not from our pressing needs.
Houses, our clothes, our clay jugs, all them were
Intended to express exalted joy.
Guided by abstractions and concepts, we
Succeeds in warding off our misfortunes,
Without ever gaining any happiness;
So that's the case the ration'l man's life is.
Th'intuitive man, aim freedom from his pain,
Standing a-firm amidst his culture's frame,
Reaps cheer, illumination and redemption.
Defense against misfortunes, he obtains.
I was once advised to read Nietzsche's 'On Truth And Lies In A Non-moral Sense.'I do not read Nietzsche; I sing it. I sing 'On Truth And Lies In A Non-moral Sense' this way. I am sad to observe that Nietzsche did not write it this way but in his eloquent flowing prose. Unfortunately, when I look at such prose and skim content, lines appear this way to me.
A Poem By P.S.Remesh Chandran. Editor, Sahyadri Books & Bloom Books. Trivandrum.
Read more about our views on poetry and about our various poetry editorial services, kindly visit http://poetryeditservice.blogspot.in/
Categories:
standing(a), emotions, inspiration, judgement, life,
Form:
Light Verse
...With that he kicked his horse in the flanks
and charged towards Thompson and the men,
not expecting it, two of them went down
before they realized he was no longer Friend.
Now it was just Thompson and Stomping Bird
who returned fire as he charged their way.
He felt two bullets hit, but he did not fall,
he bulled his tired horse into the fray!
Stomping Bird appeared suddenly in front of him,
anders fired at him without respite,
their horses collided and he was thrown clear,
then landed hard upon his right side.
Bleeding from wounds, his ribs broken,
he turned over and saw Black Thompson
seated on his horse, wounded in one arm,
but in the other held his Smith & Wesson.
“Damn fool I was to ever trust a mad man,”
the thug snarled as he gazed on down.
“You shoot up my men, and for that act
I’m leaving your body to rot on this ground!”
Anders just smiled at his former partner,
said,”Go ahead and use that big gun.
Better I die the man I once was,
then live as the monster I’ve become.”
Thompson took aim, Anders jolted his wrist,
sliding out a two-barrel Derringer,
gunshots rang out across the prairie,
an echoing report of their fire.
Thompson slumped low, pitched off his mount,
two slugs gone straight through his head,
Anders struggled hard to catch his breath,
his chest home to a new piece of lead.
His vision was fading, but he swore he saw,
standing a short way away in the grass,
his dear sweet Rosa, smiling so gently...
he could feel the pain started to pass.
He closed his eyes, felt her gentle touch,
and felt no fear that moment because
for all of his sins he’d meet his maker
having died as the man he once was.
Categories:
standing(a), anger, character, faith, hurt,
Form:
Cowboy Poetry
Trekking The Unwary
The beauty of this day, or is it the night
Cynical her way, Alaskans weathers her blight
The touch of her nature, the chills from her bite
Broken mobile, lost alone, this plane of sight
My family thoughts, as it renders me warmth
For the hardened ground, this snowflaked swamp
Alone, and here upon this land, Alaskan cold, the Northern sand
No helpful hope, no rescuing plan
The point of center, it's the no man's land
Which direction I go, two choices in hand
Continuing towards, the summer home abode
Or turn another, towards the Trappers, journeying road
For now into the forest, between the trees
A cozy nest to find, simple spot avoids the freeze
I'm awakening in morning, now it's time to go
Head towards the Trapper, I remember this fellow.
As my hunger grows, I look upon the trees
The vines, the berries, their frozen leaves
The day goes by, I trek some more
Weary I thirst, hearing a river, the sounds adore
I follow its sound, more and more, closer profound
A watering hole, and the animals around
Quenching my thirst, I see my dish
Beautiful is nature, offering me this fish
I made a stake, from the branch I break
Into the stream, I go, as I stab and take
A quicken fire, the scent of roasted fish I make
Now fulfilled my desire, my stomach won't ache
In a corner my bed, sweet dreams tonight relate.
Awakened by the sound, loud and frightful, miles around
A dreaded bear, larger than a car, his territory I fear
Without a thought, with my stake I flee
The sounds of his victim, his saliva tasting me
Luckily I see, standing, a life-saving tree
I leap upon, I climb this one, bruises gained, my hurting knee
I gained some height, and below my plight
This animal gazing at me
"Go, and leave me be!"
"Leave me alone, get away from me!"
And in his failure, attempts to push this tree
Growing weary after, his brawl subsided with me
Trembling I was, but not of the weary cold
But delighted, I'll live today, as tomorrow my story's told
I trekked each day, all of the 200 mile
Towards the Trappers home, hopeful feelings inside
Through forested cold, and the fearful wild
This guy I knew and handshake we do
Greeting me, a warm, and welcoming smile...
S
F
B
Trekking the unwary
January 3rd, 2017.
Categories:
standing(a), adventure, beauty, journey, travel,
Form:
Epic
As i Knew
The butterfly flew
Someone or something is new
On one's eye view
As the shimmering Light
On the darkest night
If you might
Nothing in sight
As even if you are
Sit as Tsar
Twinkling like a star
Waiting By the car
Aren't making someone a fool
Standing a deserted stool
Feeling unrealistic cool
Going to the invisible school
Give a staging call
Never felt a fall
Sitting in an ablaze hall
Never learned to stall
As one from afar carried a flame
I know it sounds lame
Like an unfailing claim
As impersonate time came
An accountable meet
With cold white feet
Eating some murky wheat
On a irregular seat
Learning as Brain go rot
No one can stop
Loving metallurgy a lot
As flower in a lousy pot
Time to end
Like an untrusted friend
As an eyesore letter send
Feeling like newly found trend
Categories:
standing(a), fun, funny,
Form:
Rhyme