Best Staunchly Poems
Springing free from glistening
Fronds
The summers heat leaps for
Height;
Whilst drifting obscurely far
Above
A distant lark now hangs in
Flight.
Floats down his sweet trill,
Accompanied by joyous and
Uplifting revelry,
Over the black crows nasal
Calls;
Whose draped shadow,
contemplating devilry,
Flaps and furtively falls
Into ripening bean fields
Planted in neatly sowed rows:
Nourished in darkest till,
Enriched by pedantic verse of
Gaelic odes.
Do now these gentle Slopes
Pause to yield
Where secretive song,
Bursting forth, is much concealed
inside the plain of Aidhne;
For here the great rock of the
Burren,
Whereby so implored upon,
Revealed its grey stones...
To rebuild ancient and deserted
Thoor Ballylee.
Sweeping briskly past a tors
Grassy island busy in bloom,
Eagerly cramming under four
Crouched arches,
Skim the borrowed waters of
Thee immortal Cloone;
Dappling currents
Dawdling around squat stanchions -
Staunchly carrying the quiet bridge
Over the old concourse:
Momentarily loitering -
Wantonly begging to coyly swoon...
Now, joyfully sporting in gushing
Discourse,
Gleefully courting elusive and
Glimmering enchantments:
Mirrored reflections enticed to
Enter -
To be forever trapped within a
Burbling rivers sacred rhyme and
Tune.
Higher and higher the spiraling
Stairs of de Burgo
When through airy woodland
Glades
The towering shadow sought;
And higher and higher the spirit
Of an ageing poet...
His crowding thoughts
Roaming freely amidst these
Fabled legends of Gort.
Harken then to the feathered
Herald -
Tis Gods design that calls on
Ye!
For few men know of what he
Sings...
He sings of the forgotten paths
Forever lost within Innisfree.
Setting: A man and woman are reunited in a garden after an unbearably long separation. From the viewpoint of the man.
Now the sun is slowly rising o'er the mountains
And it lights a sea of diamonds on the flowers kissed with dew
It is shining golden beams into the garden
And they cast a shade of auburn on your hair of golden hue
So here is what I have to say:
The flowers in their beauty have seemed to fade
And here, these diamonds seem to be afraid
At sight of you
The trees, though standing strong and firm
Could not be half as staunchly ever true
While here upon the grass I stand
I'll hold your hand
And then we'll stroll about this garden for a day
I'll hear you say
The things that I have longed to hear
And perhaps we will share joy and tears
Being here by your side
Makes all cares to subside
For I know winds may blow
But the past is washed away
Now I'm here, and I'm here
Foreverlong to stay
Or so I pray
Now the sun is slowly setting in the garden
And the shades of fiery gold and orange have changed to grey and blue
The moon shines in your eyes this starry night
And words can't seem to tell the love I have for you.
~This was written for the contest "Lyrics To Le Jardin D'Adonis" sponsored by Craig Cornish.
Here is a recording of the tune: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ILm89xCyHQo
Written by Isaiah Zerbst on May 20, 2013
A stoic sentinal midst waves,
you staunchly stand erect and tall.
Emerged in frothy, churning white,
you hold your own in nature’s squall.
Atop, your beacon light shines bright
to let the mariners know well,
there is a guardian at sea
that can be seen above the swell.
How stoic now you bravely stand,
against the terror of this storm.
Your eyes look out with searching beams
for those caught in the sea, forlorn.
What glory when your light is seen
above the mountains of white waves.
Salvation in your light of red
denies the sea more mortal graves.
THE PROTECTOR OF THE UNAWARE
In the great hall walls sung with gold
Silk threads reflect the free fed fires
Stoked high to chase the brutal cold
From listeners as they crowded round
The winter nights wrapped round the thoughts
Of raging bold and timid weak
For in the starkness dark has bought
There is a time for Truth tho bleak
When hearts lie fallow with the fields
Awaiting musty earth's spring call
Tis time for dwelling in the past
And staunchly facing life's downfalls
Sometimes there stands a heartless man
Who forced a virgin maid astray
Fails to regret felonious act
That crushed her blooming life that day
But in the dead of winter's nights
When sleep flies shattered with the storm
The man without a conscience bite
Is grabbed as terrors round him swarm
Face of the lovely soiled—beguiled--
Sways not his faithless heart of stone
But fear that swallows light from stars
Swirls horror-- brands him man alone
No faithless heart cares where it cuts
No brutal lies attempt a balm
But vengeance blows upon the winds
To right the path of careless wrong
Sweet treasured is proud Nature’s prize
She guards the simple hearts born pure
Tragic to her when anguish cries
Sees evil treats them as obscure
Sweet are the innocent of earth
Fragile their hearts and tragic cares
They have a champion, though unknown--
Protector of the unaware
Victoria Anderson-Throop ©
1/1/13
Some folks follow all the rules;
Others like to bend 'em,
Feeling like it's only fools
Who staunchly would defend 'em.
Which way that you lean begins
When you're just out of diapers.
Followers fear that their sins
Will make them pay the pipers.
Benders, though, might get a rush
From tempting fate and winning,
Even if they have a brush
With blame at the beginning.
We each know where we belong
When rules are in our faces
And since we all hate being wrong,
We never will change places.
Stop present time now!
Let us go no further.
Let's enjoy the now, somehow.
Muses and we, sisters and brothers.
Batten down the hatches on reality.
Only stars dance, we staunchly state.
Reality has no maternity,
We slammed it dead at the front gate.
Of only insignificance, can we pen?
Strange murmurings of only moons
and stars.
Reality to die slowly in a dark house
of busy pens?
Of that, dare not your soul ever move
nor start.
This world of writing, utterly unreal.
Where imagery is some despotic
king?P
And long words you must look up
to somehow beauty reveal?
To then bow low and kiss a poet's
ring?
September 13, 2020
8:30 pm PST
Bombs and guns scythe through the innocent
writ in spattered blood evil intent
from youth's garden, saplings gone.
But staunchly rising from the killing floor
Liberty retakes the tricolour
strides a nation, marches on.
25th November 2015
For contest ' For Paris', sponsored by Debbie Guzzi
Written in Rime Couee form.
Could anything transcend the seduction that permeates the kitchen
More than freshly baked cake?
I love to deeply inhale, fantasize; and then partake.
Anticipating the marvelous marriage of my sense of smell and taste,
My mouth starts to water… a slice to be embraced.
Dark chocolate, rich and moist, with just a touch of vanilla in the flour.
What could be more passionately devoured?
Yet, I staunchly refuse because I choose to savor
This gloriously sweet mixture of flavor,
Enticingly covered with vanilla butter cream.
Well, maybe just one morsel taken on my finger---
A cake lover’s dream.
09/16/15
Your bombs and canons come late far too late now to put together your sundered arms
no use crying robber in Kashmir when the poor hunger for a bowl of dusty gruel
nor stretch your mighty legs over the Palk Straits to proclaim your integral faith
Wake! India! Wake!
There are no borders to the staunchly raised in unbending respect and unrelenting loyalty
there is no need for police-ed borders for those who are tied to you by blood
there’re only stretches of unfathomable water so much un-scaleable mountainous frights
Wake! Asia! Wake!
And draw your sons and daughters about you they who inherit your fate
tell them not when they may act or how just let them gather around you
with time if you wake up in time they’ll hoist you to Himalayan heights
Wake! Now! Asia! Wake! Before It’s Too Late!
© T.Wignesan 1996/2001
(Written between April 7th and 20th, 1996; revised February 2001 and published in The Asianists’ Asia, Vol. II, March 2001, and in T. Wignesan. Rama and Ravana at the Altar of Hanuman. Chennai : Institute of Asian Studies, 2006.
[from the “original version” in the collection: longhand notes (a binding of poems), 1999]
Mandela In You
I scanned into your entire writ
I perceived an unremitting wit;
There’s a Mandela in You,
Oozing from your daring script;
Loaded with a spirit of sacrifice
To eradicate mundane malice
There’s a Mandela in You,
That resonates in your artifice!
A Fighter for Mankind’s thrall,
Equality for gender and for all
There’s a Mandela in You
Reprimanding: Divided We Fall!
Peace is in your daring hand
Which you staunchly defend
For, Mandela in You says
“No to Civil Wars in our Land!”
Women also need their space
Enough to powder their face
There’s a Mandela in You
Lending impetus to their pace!
Antipathy, aloud do denigrate
Which Warmongers do initiate
There’s a Mandela in You,
With a smile that doesn’t fail;
It intones when Spirit is weary
Shining when the Sky is dreary
There’s a Mandela in You
Painting Blue the Sky so bleary!
Write, write, your mantra write
Let revulsion be in your write
For, there’s a Mandela in You
Pleading for Humanity to Unite!
Dedicated to Zimbabwean Poet, Wilson Mapfumo upon being inspired by his Poem: Cry Africa.
JM
14th Oct’ 2013
In dreams I do a thousand things
reality will not record:
a heroine of myriad tales
wielding Truth's divining sword;
a daring dragon slayer
riding tempestuous seas,
fighting for the poor and weak,
answering anxious pleas.
In dreams I do a thousand things:
I conquer the unknown;
I reign a queen in far off lands
upon a golden throne.
I judge between evil and good,
discerning wrong and right,
commander of a legion
campaigner for the light.
In dreams . . . but I must live on earth
and walk as all must walk,
wrestle with the winds of woe,
guard my thoughts, my talk.
I would be a pure protector
of the small ones and the meek,
accepting life's misfortunes;
my heart and conscience keep.
Perhaps the things I do in dreams
are not at all so grand,
perhaps my home is better
than a distant foreign strand.
It could be greater here to dwell
with loved ones staunchly stand;
walk life's pathway with my brother,
heart to heart, hand in hand.
Copyright, 4/28/2014
Faye Gibson
"I feel the most ridiculous resolution
is the one you have to make more than once......just saying"
I have a list quite lengthly
That I've composed this year
Of things that I would like to change
To a path I would not veer
A rock upon, to build my wall
And staunchly never budge
And start to lose this excess weight
Right after Christmas fudge
And maybe just a piece of cake
And a slice of home made pie
A couple little cookies
Couldn't add much to my thighs
That Christmas pudding "Oh My God"
Can't let that go to waste
Won't add to suborned belly fat
Just to take a taste
"YES" I can't wait to New Years day
With "The Past" over my shoulders
Unless of course on New Years Day
I have to eat Leftovers
No matter what fact-
some movie told you that,
they preened and printed,
stole what fitted,
and then sold,
and said it thinned it in...
No matter how much fat,
no matter what they attack!
Some movie told you that,
the filter will stack-
the rivers will run into rags,
and then some movie told you that!
Own it girl!
Eat spasms and commit to the randoms because this is where they stand um!
Hold onto porridge like it's cold and in tandem!
I know I know what I just said,
but your society isn't red,
it's opportune to be a bed,
no boredom does not beget!
It spends-
every last trend,
every wonder in the bend,
and the eager,
staunchly sour to be in rent.
I don’t mean to bust Archie’s hump.
He meant well, the simple old chump,
But damn, how buffoonish
His views, so cartoonish,
In short, he’d have staunchly liked Trump!
(Written February 2, 2019, for Joseph May's Limerick 4 contest.)
He loves being incorrect,
politically and otherwise
He revels in how bad he disrespects
anybody who don’t agree with him
His supporters staunchly defend
all of his boorish behavior
His critics call those supporters,
his crutch enablers,
who don’t have a leg to stand on
If you don’t believe me:
give the Tweet Man your phone
Watch the foul characters he spew;
misogynist alphabets demeaning
women with gutter vitriol
Dignified manners he don’t like ‘em at all,
calls them soft and weak
So Obama lite, so meek
That ain’t the way he Wolfman speak ...
So incorrect is how he love to be
Don’t feel he ever needs to apologize,
stretching a little disinformation into a big lie
Said he woulda won the popular vote,
if the voter rolls hadn’t been compromised —
Three million border illegals snuck in line,
that’s the reason why
Political incorrectness is his spot of tea;
boasted that the England and German female rulers
were dumb as can be
And of course, he’s the smartest man in the universe,
just ask him yourself
Aside from the obvious bent truths,
he has a skewed self-image view
Being so incorrect got him the crown he will crow,
with profanity laced utterances coming out of his throat
A bad seed loudmouth wearing bully pants —
ain’t no doubt about it, decency never had a chance
He’s so vile, so morally suspect ...
spitting bifurcated words so incorrect
The sadness of it all: history will record
how bad he flunked the leadership test
Too many incorrect answers, I presume