Best Sternness Poems
Behind the rough and gruff facade,
amongst the sternness and the pride.
Along with calloused hands and the scars
A little boy still resides.
in spite of responsibilities,
the hard days, daily grind.
There within a man full grown,
that little boy still hides.
In the crooked grin, stuck out chin,
mischievous twinkle of the eyes.
Crazy antics, chances taken,
a little boy joy rides.
Eat one more cookie before dinner,
spend all weekend, playing outside.
Put off mowing the lawn one more day,
that little boy decides.
Work extra hours to pay the bills,
don't let that "Honey do" list slide.
Do anything to see me smile,
His little boy is justified.
For the contest; Anything
Sponsored by Matt Caliri
Written: March 09, 2024
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It's utterly aquiver and ambivalent
With is a glimmer of modesty
His fame stems from promoting peace
But who holds the power to bedraggle?
Let's embrace bel esprit, compassion, and mercy.
There is a path betwixt utterance and ubiquity
where knowledge flows freely
In quiet sternness, it evolves...
It wraps with a meandering debate.
Behold those who wept covertly,
Who wastes these precious tears?
When some dreams come to a halt,
Life endures and perseveres.
Who moistens their life, oh you?
Who bathes, but why won't submerge?
When water drifts away and out...
The monsoon remains never fades away.
A sacrifice can lead to martyrdom,
They have a way of shaping history
And confronts the dishonesty.
Fostering defiance and optimism,
aim for an idyllic future,
Leave a legacy.
And participate in upheaval.
What purpose does the blood serve?
Is it futile to draw that to a boil?
What's beneficial is the blood?
Is there a way to safeguard the soil?
Everyone raised a voice in reply,
Ahead of us is a fierce opponent
For the sake of the homeland,
We will shed our blood.
Each seeded pod of active indulgence
With the sternness of instructions
Delivered to one and all,
‘Never leave under light
Sunlight especially at fall,’
A test one thinks for the human race
Does one wait to reap the spoils of his haul,
When so many of the world’s population
Are cloned when the cuckoo doth call?
© Harry J Horsman 2020
Starless night, a fire ahead
upon a wind sheltered hill.
Drizzling rain and steamy breath,
I feel the yearning for you.
Lighted by the flickering shine
you seem to be nameless to me.
But your words, your versant vein
recall the charm of the past.
Like a swallow in fall,
untamed and wild,
you’ve vanished silently.
Your cold, weary eyes
have lost their bright glow
of periods elapsed too fast.
Love of life, my friend, come back to me,
spread your wings and carry me home.
To consoling shores, and healing refuges,
till my heaven's starry again.
Wandering through a twisted maze
in search of where I belong.
Deep beneath the outer coat
I’m all confounded and lost.
I may count the stars by night,
but they don't look out on me.
I may walk a million miles,
but life is not coming forth.
Like a swallow in fall,
untamed and wild,
you’ve vanished silently.
Your tedious glance,
your meaningless look
are saddening me deep inside.
Love of life, my friend, come back to me,
spread your wings and lead me along.
To uncharted soils, beyond cumbering bounds,
till my heaven's starry again.
By and by my life
got a dreary taste.
Childlike magic disappeared
and sternness began.
Elusive confidence,
blissful ignorance,
peaceful mindlessness,
defeated and buried in pain.
I couldn’t resist
Love of life, my friend, come back to me,
spread your wings and teach me to fly.
To salvation’s dawn, beyond crumbling walls,
till my heaven's starry again.
Dear John letter
But it’s not. His name happens to be John.
Rather a letter of a hopeful heart anticipating the future
Have I finally found the one man who will be my intimate other? He who will, at the end, sit by a fire with me, sipping tea, our blankets tucked around our tired old knees?
Chortling together about days gone by, how we met, the walks, the talks, the quiet moments without words.
The day I pushed you into the fish pond, the smell of crushed summer grasses under us mingling with our scent of passion.
Will I? Could I? Be your one to the end? Will it hurt very much if you are only a seven year itch…or a seven month or seven day man? Oh, I hope you are a 70 year man!
I love your sternness seen so seldom but still there. I fear your irrevocable nature, when you are done with a thing or person you are done!
What wall?
What ice house?
You mean these few old bricks scattered about on the ground that John Prine writes about?
‘My heart's in the ice house come hill or come valley
Like a long ago Sunday when I walked through the alley….’
Once you said I had rescued your heart from the ice house,
I asked, what do you mean?
I lived to know how cold your heart could be.
I love you, I tremble for the moment I will know you…my toes are singing,
You are my heart, I am yours always...
www.writeratplay.com
Tambourines in the air;
Whistles and bustles in a
rhyme.
In the house of Khloe,
Melodies of the heart;
A reenactment in the farm house
of old rhythms.
Grand mother's tongue in cheek,
but she is gone;
Gone home to be with the lasses
Free from the pains of the masses.
The house of Chloe will never be the
same again.
Mirth and laughter gone through the
back door.
Enter the dragon, my mama with sternness
and a rod.
Not to be spared for our scrawny behinds
my mama.
The house of Khloe has changed course
never the same again.
I drifted to this place
When might I drift away?
Am lost in time and space
Cold feet encased in clay
Afraid. I am offbeat
Next year I will as well
Shamefully repeat
Tucked inside my shell
Are false masks better than
The fear I have no face?
Why not be a real man
Contempt for this disgrace
The others seem together
My disappointed self
Chafes against the leather
Of life upon a shelf
The hourglass is filling
Sitting here regretting
I make no progress chilling
My purposeless upsetting
False Christian and false doctor
Puzzled father, baffled mate
Away with all the awkward
Before it’s just too late
Fastened here so tightly
Accurate? Or no?
Why not live more rightly?
Who has shown me so?
And bathroom glass reveals
My fortune’s lonesome actor
No alibi conceals
No outside minds a factor
Searing streak of insight
It’s I. I see that now
Knot inside my windpipe
And sweat upon my brow
The phantoms hang around
For my eyes lone to see
Cant seem to shut them down
Should I just leave them be?
I crave for life to change
But what is it I do?
Will others find it strange
To live with someone new
Stinking, stagnate coward!
Seek no outside forces!
My weaknesses they tower
Sturdy as wild horses
Perhaps best not to glance
Sure not a pretty sight
For once my courage stands
I will . With all my might
I hold fast to my ground
What ground is it I seek?
Today it shall be found
But not amongst the weak
To love and feel essential
Control , companionship
To fill up my potential
To bareness shall I strip
I steel my face with sternness
I will retreat no more
And now with manly firmness
I free my limited self
Once there was a shepherd who walked amongst a mighty pasture. He tended to his sheep 24/7 and there was never a single activity that occurred within the pasture that the mighty shepherd was not aware of. One day a wolf came along and tried to steal one of the shepherd’s innocent little lambs.
The mighty shepherd took his staff and headed off to rescue his little lost lamb. He searched high and low and all through the night to find the lamb that the wolf had planned to devour at day break. As soon as the lamb was spotted the shepherd came to his aid and gave the wolf an ultimatum. He spoke right to the wolf regarding his demise. He informed him that if he didn't leave his precious little lambs alone he will throw him over the cliff into the ocean. He warned the wolf and he spoke with sternness.
The wolf ran off and made other plans to steal the rest of the sheep. The shepherd once again warned him of his demise. After the shepherd showed as much mercy as he could muster, he sealed the fate of the old wolf. He made a place to capture him and a place that he would have to relive the same pain and agony that he placed his lambs through each and every day.
What is the moral of this story? The moral of the story is that the wolf’s time is up and he will soon be captured and officially placed in his own torture chamber for eternity. He will no longer be able to threaten or injure the children of God. Amen.
Gwendolen Rix
1-11-15
Revelation 20:1-3
1Then I saw an angel coming down from heaven, having the key to the bottomless pit and a great chain in his hand. 2 He laid hold of the dragon, that serpent of old, who is the Devil and Satan, and bound him for a thousand years; 3 and he cast him into the bottomless pit, and shut him up, and set a seal on him, so that he should deceive the nations no more till the thousand years were finished. But after these things he must be released for a little while.
Lists
of dreams
Daddy mailed
with sternness changed
his playful nature emerged and prevailed
Mom smiles engaged in lifts of happiness
decorating
sweets baking
gifting
love
Bro
cocoa
blanket warm
Christmas lights drive
siblings mingling in anticipation
GREAT-one of size, long duration, importance, prominent, noble, illustrious, dignified,
renowed, mavelous, magnificent, and as an intimate friend in a relationship by one
generation to another. GRAND- one of Gentlewoman, two of Gaiety, three of Gentry, four
of the Glamour of your Groundwork of all the Gratitude for beginning's of the Genuine
Grand's to com. MOTHER- not just the one whom gives us birth definitely the one whom has
those moments of - Magnaminity, Authority, Notability, Pregnancy, Repute Size, not at all the
least that sternness of Superiority. What better words of compound describe's the Great-
Grand-Mother "THE MOTHER OF PEARL'S"... Respect for the Sun that rises and shines in me
also for all those rainy times too... Ready with her teaching's about LIFE-LOVE's us dearly
even when we think we know a better way! "Tough love given; once understood accept's it
with all appreciation of admiration of reason for lesson's learned. Guess what --Love is in
the heart's of many. Even though it may not be said or showed to you the fact is Believe
this "PRAISE" IS DUE TO ALL MATRIARCH's for their pure love of teaching. ALL PEARL'S ARE
A GEM - GEM'S ARE CHERISHED: The Mother-of-Pearl's are cherished in the least this
magnanimous matriach of a woman must be given her endearment of
eminence...........
Her eyes were as beautiful as they could be
A puppy dog’s frown looking back at me
As they smiled they truly danced with life
Those big brown eyes of my beautiful wife
I sat behind glass as they filled with tears
Scared and alone her eyes danced with fear
The depth of her eyes expressed all of the pain
Dancing all around me I could feel their shame
But when they met mine these words are true
Beauty of their love broke me completely into
I gazed into her eyes into the depths of her soul
Lost up inside those eyes I had found my goal
It totally broke my spirit as I realized her pain
The thought of it drove me completely insane
Over sixty months later when mine got set free
Can you guess what eyes were waiting for me?
Two beautiful eyes that were so deep and brown
Now had a beautiful sparkling puppy dog frown
They also had a sternness I had never seen
Saying the only way to us is by staying clean
All these years later, eyes still as deep as a well
I am still lost in their beauty, bound to their spell
Telling me good morning as we start another day
Her eyes shine with so much love in a beautiful way
Sometimes in life we try to be all that we can be
I didn’t pick her eyes because her eyes picked me
I am lost in the treasure of her beauty and grace
I reckon beautiful eyes deserve a beautiful face
Expanding on her beautiful eyes that mirror her soul
Is no less than my life’s honor and a beautiful goal
Written for Sami's contest
My fortunes drop from my hands with despair.
Pearls that plop on the sand are the rest of me that's left to bare.
Juggling gorillas and dinosaur tea parties swirl in discordant dance,
While my aimless mind presses spring in Hamburg 'gainst a wintry France.
All lives re-awake each morning with a choice to laugh or cry,
Since there is no door for the key you hold, no pan for the egg to fry.
So with oatmeal in your hands you run from house to house,
"Is this sad or is this funny?" You add you use to be a mouse.
And when even the flag of writing is held against a vacant wind
You meet metal with wood and not as wood and your heart you feel has sinned,
For not to laugh at the madness of sternness is to lose our only magic power.
To fall from branches that were never there is to star in the saddest movie of the hour.
Grieve not if your gift seems little now where once you shot rockets.
Remember: you were once a mouse, and now your have oatmeal in your pockets.
Sober Times.
A gigantic dark grey cloud covers the town and its environs
and rain fall in large lazy drops that when hitting ground
splits into a thousand droplets like cluster bombs designed
to destroy people but let building stand. Not many cars on
roads austerity grips us with an iron fist and no one drives for
fun anymore, the clear sign that we must look for a modest
future; haste for material gains we left brotherhood behind.
Although the day is murky light is not on in buildings around
mine, we have to do with the light this day gives us till evening.
Trees in the avenue are leafless, soaked and dismal now and
elegant pavements slippery, by leaves of sternness and I think of
the suit I bought at a second hand shop, it had been a banker´s
who scared by the masses wroth had fled to Bahamas…he could
have done worse. We love to hate financiers we also envy them
so we d not have to look at ourselves for money we borrowed to
buy a bigger house and a new car none of what we really needed.
It has stopped raining and a finger of light pokes through the grey,
severity is easier to bear in sunlight.
The husband asked, "When is Mother's Day?"
I said, Everyday!
M is for makeover. We don't always get it right the first time
O is for older souls fertile with love as mother
T is for tenderness we teach each other
H is for hope that the pupil in us stays humble
E is for endless love that resurface and make us renewed
R is for righteous thoughts that fuel acts of faith.
The Wife asked, "When is Father's Day?"
I said, Everyday!
F is for faith in the Almighty who leads the way
A is for another brother with enough love as father
T is for tender sternness that outweighs callousness
H is for the height and measure of a man of God
E is for endless love that redeems a man and his home
R is for reflections that fuel change within and out.
The coarse green fatigues
etches away at me, cracking
and burning my skin.
The hands I once so warmly held
are replaced with the cold sternness
of pistol grips.
Every shot of my gun whips
me into form, chipping away
the soft ends of me. They hammer hard
as the army sculptures another soldier.
I've forgotten the lift of careless laughter
as these muscles tense and freeze.
As we march and our boots thump
against hard mud in this dark jungle,
I feel this cold settle in and wonder
if this is the passing of boyhood.