Best Story Poem Poems
Once upon a dreamy fairy tale night
Two lover's hearts went soaring off in flight
The setting a magical seaside scene
Enchanting beauty befitting a queen.
Fairies gathered to gaze from on a star
For romance delighted their tiny hearts
So enthralling was this mystical sight
They sprinkled their fairy dust o'er the night.
Sequin-silver jewels enhanced night sky
Twinkling on the sea as waves rippled by
Soft golden sand cushioned the lovers feet
As they strolled along the crescent shaped beach.
Only sound was the opera of sea
A soothing oceanic melody
The summer breeze caressed their sun kissed skin
Just as their rendezvous was to begin.
He took her in his arms and held her tight
Whispered "darling you look lovely tonight"
In a tender moment of bliss they kissed
Pledging their love would stay a lifelong tryst.
They danced merrily in splendour of sea
For today they joined in matrimony.
The Hermit
There once was a young man- that fell deeply in love
with a beautiful girl. she was too rich and not in his reach.
They loved eachother, but their love could not be. her
parents sent her away and their love vanished that day.
He left and went far away. He isolated himself and a hermit
he became. People knew about him, but they didn't know much.
He had a brother that found out where he was. He would go to
see him every now and then.
The hermit lived in an old shack deep in the woods. his brother
was very different from him. He smoke, drank, gambled and had
many women. The hermit didn't think that was right, but his brother
kepted on living his life.
One day the hermit got very sick and couldn't go out to look for his
food. An Angel came to see him and brought him some food. After
that - the Angel would come everyday and fad him out of her hand.
One day the brother came to see him and the hermit told him that
he had to change his ways, or he would never go to heaven.
He told him look at me - I have already won heaven. I don't have no
sins. I eat out of an Angel's hand everyday. The brother said - that's
good, but I have repented of my sins. That day the Angel left and
never came back. The hermit died all alone.
When he got to heaven - he was told, this is not where you belong.
He asked - why not? You should never brag about yourself. The hermit
was sent to hell. His brother repented and went to heaven. Life is not
what it seems. Sometimes when we think we have gained something -
in a minute - we can lose it all...
07/26/2013
Written by Lucilla M. Carrillo
Note: Moral of the story
is - no matter how good we think
we are - we should never brag about it.
Once upon a time in faraway land,
There lived little Candy with dreams so grand;
She dreamt she was princess Cinderella,
Or sometimes became small Thumbelina;
One night, she danced with leprechauns and dwarves,
Sometimes wearing sombreros, sometimes scarves;
Her dreamy princess dress sparkled with gems,
As she glided around crystal items;
Once, when Candy was sleeping in the hall,
Dreaming of princes dancing at her ball;
In crept a wicked elf, he was so bad,
He loathed her smile and wished to make her sad;
He cast an evil spell on her nice dreams,
From then on, her laughter turned to mad screams;
She grew up day by day, afraid to sleep,
Recalling the dream world she could not keep;
Now, Candy was trapped in horrid nightmares,
The elf felt sordid pleasure in her scares;
Then one day, a beggar knocked on her door,
Candy was too kind to simply ignore;
She, though looking weary with sleepless eyes,
Fed him, who was a wizard in disguise;
The gentle wizard saw her deep sadness,
And asked her the reason of her distress;
She sighed and thought of all her lovely dreams,
"My dreams are lost", she cried, her tears in streams;
The wise wizard then saw the impish elf,
That guy had stolen his wand from his shelf;
Soon he was caught and the spell was broken,
Her fairytale dreams brought joy unspoken;
Candy jumped and danced, now that she could sleep,
She thanked the wizard, now she need not weep;
The elf had to serve the wizard for life,
That was his punishment for causing strife;
Little Candy got back her dreams and smile,
She'd be a princess again, for a while.
02/03/17
Many years ago,
a simple kiss made her glow.
Love was everywhere,
sweet flowers filled the air.
That day there was no snow,
the warm sand covered a toe.
Her blue eyes and blond hair,
with that yellow dress she wore with flare.
July 4th was a big show,
they said I do with a playing banjo.
A beautiful white dress she did wear,
a heavenly day brought him a tear.
Do you think I can save all ships in distress?
How wrong you are! Times when I sorely pressed,
Times when my beacon was snuffed out of its glory.
Oh, I can tell you many an adventurous story,
Exciting exploits on the tumultuous and stormy seas
High waves span all around me, ugly with a heavy breeze.
Still, there’s one I would sincerely like to show,
Although it happened a long time ago.
The Greyhound had a young master, rich and mean,
And he dared cross the sea, oh what a scene.
The winds were high and the sky was overcast
Waves were high and terrible. The ship could not last.
Aboard the vessel, I saw the master of the merchant ship,
Carrying slaves and other goods, was a doomed deplorable trip.
Above the dim of wicked waves, clangs of iron I heard,
And screams intermixed with every offensive word.
The man drenched held to the mast, knelt and prayed
Let them be saved, he would renounce his trade.
Years passed and the man gladly his faith he did embrace.
He vowed he’d fight slavery with his “Amazing Grace”.
In the valley of Kashmir, lived Meena, a pretty lass,
Undoubtedly she had a captivating singing voice!
Myna of Srinagar, people around used to call her,
But she coveted the royal trophy of "Best Singer"
She didn't have the money to buy a bejeweled dress,
Nor the fastest vehicle to attend the contest.
Day before the event, she was sad and disheartened,
The wild woodland back of her humble cottage she went
To open her heart to the stately Chinar and Mulberry trees,
The girl always conversed with them with perfect ease .
To her surprise, she found, perched on a branch, a unique bird,
Who listened to her sorrowful tale - each and every word.
Bedecked with colorful feathers, the bird spoke to her
In the most kind and alluring voice which would definitely stir!
Asked the bird most gently, "Why are you sad, my dear child"?
Meena narrated her story and the bird only smiled.
The enchanting creature offered Meena her bewitching voice,
Her magical strong wings to fly to the castle and rejoice!
Next day Meena, with her borrowed wings, to the concert flew
And sang the most enthralling poignant song people ever knew.
Undeniably she looked ravishing in her simplest dress,
"Best Singer of The Country" she was everyone's choice.
Day after the win, to the woodland Meena went back
Found the generous bird waiting, and wanted to thank.
Meena returned the wings to the kindest creature on earth,
Bird left the captivating voice for Meena with plenty of mirth.
This past week my eyes shed tears
A friend, I thought had died
I've known him for so many years
For days I mourned and cried
Little did I know the fact
But false news had spread the word
Another friend was too quick to react
From something that he heard
He said- "Billy had a heart attack
And he cried- "He didn't survive"
But when I talked to his brother Jack
He said- "Billy is still- ((ALIVE))"
Billy his brother is alive and well
In fact, he wasn't ill at all
It was another person with the same name who fell
And who unfortunately took the fall
So, the story goes... Twice this past week I thought I lost two friends. Both long time childhood friends. The first was my friend Billy, someone spread the word on FaceBook that he had died from a heart attack, unfortunately, it was someone else with the same name. Turned out it was a 93-year-old man who lived a long, beautiful life. The second was a classmate that someone said to me recently at my HS reunion, that our classmate passed 2 years ago. Turned out...she is still alive too! False news spreads quickly...thank goodness it turned out to be a happy ending in both cases. :) An emotional ride for sure.
In a old old rambling structure
Down on the street called Broadway
Upper floors that had been deserted
For many and many a day
Lighting a fire
Starting to pondering
Things from long ago
Remembering songs and legends
Stories that I had been told
The fire light began to flicker
Then undressing for the night
By only a little candle light
Once in bed down under the covers
Slowly going to sleep
Off to dreamland I remembered
Then something pulled at the sheet
Starting to hear chains rattling
Whining through the loosened glass
Then deciding it was nothing
Pull the covers up past my calf
No more than I had pulled them
When something or someone
Snatched them away
That's when I grabbed them
With my heart beating away
Up over my head and snuggled
Hoping that they would stay
But that was not possible
So up I sat in bed
Looking around was when I saw It
Footprints as big as an elephant head
I decided to start talking
Facing my fear straight on
Is when I discovered
Cardiff Giant ghost in my room
I told him to sit down
But then on second thought
Was going to say don't
When he sat, the chair
Fell ascunder and broken
Parts were over the floor
Pieces of tail bone and broken chair
Even a rib and wrist bone was there
Then sat on the bed and in a heap
We're on the floor
Finally I told him
No more, no more
Just sit on the floor
I gave him my red blanket
He used my chamber as a hat
Then we talk about his
Situation what do you think of that
I finally told him
That he really wasn't a wondering ghost
He was just plaster of paris
An imitation to trick folks
That he was really buried
In Albany and was haunting
A cheap plaster form of himself
So off he went in the darkness
Saying don't let this story get out
That I don't even know my own remains
As he laid the pipe on the mantel
Down the street he lumber along
(Idea taken from "A Ghost Story" by Mark Twain. Please forgive me Mark Twain because I
did not do this story justice and definitely not the poem.) (As they say there is a big
difference in having something to say and having to say something.) It did stretch my
thinking and creativeness.
Back in the early '50s, my Dad believed in,
"Spare the rod, spoil a child," his lesson seeping in.
As a young growing kid, I longed for playtime's call,
Believing in the joy of games, both indoors and outdoors, I stood tall.
Mornings meant waking up to breakfast's warm delight,
Then off to the playing field, where dreams took flight.
Soccer games with friends, a ball dancing at our feet,
Laughter and competition merging, making life sweet.
Returning home, it was school's turn to take the stage,
Waiting for the bell to ring, releasing me from its cage.
Quickly escaping, my cricket team awaited outside,
Bound by the love of the game, with passion as our guide.
But my Dad had other plans, a tutor he'd employ,
Armed with a shining black ruler, ready to deploy.
Counting became a challenge, I faltered with each try,
And for every digit missed, the ruler would meet my thigh.
Alphabets came next, a daunting task to undertake,
I stumbled and missed many, inviting the ruler's wake.
With each whack, the shrieks pierced through the evening air,
Neighbors and Mom pleading, a cry for fairness to bear.
But my Dad remained unmoved, adamant in his belief,
That homework must be done, before granting any relief.
Yet one day, a lesson blossomed within my soul,
I rid myself of the tutor, and took my studies under control.
From that day forward, I delved into learning on my own,
No more ruler's sting, my independence fully grown.
I realized education could be a joy, not just a chore,
And with newfound freedom, I soared, wanting to explore.
~
Along skips a girl with the sun in her smile,
patchwork illusions, the valleys alight
Dragonflies hover. mid-air, in their style,
meadowlark melodies echo in flight
All come to see as she sparkles and shines,
free as a hummingbird greeting a rose
Buttercups twirl 'side pirouette pines,
pristine reflections her beauty now shows
Days tend to wander when warmth saunters in,
whimsical moments adrift on a breeze
Delicate wishes some hoped to begin,
promises made beneath sycamore trees
Footsteps so gentle, the irises blush,
crimson designs below heavens conceal
Canopies shadow a whispering hush,
secrets the marigolds long to reveal
Frolicking mornings her eyes call their own,
dew drop reminders of shimmering gaze
No need to worry, she’s happy alone,
nature is calling and these are her days
Butterfly tickles of flittering wing,
flurries of petal’d confetti do fall
Daffodils stand as the hyacinth sing,
dressed ever fragrant, this eve for the ball
Blowing a kiss to the tangerine sky,
plucking the leaf of a riverside fern
Waving hello to a bee buzzing by,
following pathways however they turn
Towards the horizon she strolls happily,
leaving a presence that’s sure to beguile
Springtime arrives and the whole world can see,
along skips a girl with the sun in her smile
~
Blooming From Roots #2 of 3
I run as fast as I can run. I'm frightened as can be.
A lady grabs and picks me up - her arms protecting me.
I'm wailing as she runs to hide among 'da bush' and trees.
I hear the chaos all around now bent low on my knees.
I soon think it is safe enough for me to run away -
but I will be forever scarred. I won't forget this day.
For years I live with others, my makeshift families -
but oh, the torture I go through is more than man believes.
Such sin conceives atrocious things, but that does not compare
to all the things they make me do. It's way too much to bear...
I lost my friends and family. It simply makes no sense!
I cannot find a peaceful place. I lose my innocence.
I bounce between the villages to find a life of peace -
but trial after failed trial, the sadness doesn't cease.
Then once again, it happens! And this I can't endure!
The rebels come in shooting! No village is secure!
I pray that they will go away. My heart is beating hard.
I hide again inside 'da bush' - emotionally scarred.
I try to hide the best I can with rebels coming near -
I hear the bushes moving and an angry voice I hear:
"We know you're hiding! Come on out, or we shoot again!"
And with those words they fire some more - a terrorizing sin.
A bullet hits my ankle. I quickly take my top -.
and tie it 'round my ankle - for it is all I've got.
And then I try to flee again. There's no way I can stay.
My left hand holds my ankle as I try to run away.
I hear something familiar. I look up to the skies.
A helicopter nears the road! A sight for weary eyes!
The emblem proves it's friendly. The bright 'red, white and blue'.
I run as fast as I can go. That is what I must do.
I hold my bleeding ankle and I also try to run.
My former top is soaked with blood. My last dash has begun.
I cannot stay and that's for sure - to left and right, I glance.
I look out through the clearing. This is my only chance!
(continued on "Blooming From Roots #3 of 3 -true story poem finale)
©2012 louis gander / www.ganderpoems.org
Blooming From Roots #3 of 3 -(finale)
I pass the dying bodies of - mothers, girls and boys.
But I must leave this awful place where sinful man destroys.
Through bullets, can I make it? I really do not know.
I start across the clearing. I stumble as I go.
It seems to take forever. I'm determined so, to put -
this nightmare far behind me. I hurt from head to foot.
The chopper blades are noisy. The dust blows in my face.
Some bullets zing right past my head. I quicken up my pace!
Just when I'm feeling hopeful, a bullet rips my side.
I fall with all the others and I think I'll miss my ride.
I have no strength to run again. I'm bleeding real bad.
I put my right hand on my side. That chance was all I had.
I'm feeling weak and failing fast. While dying here, I cry.
I vainly wave for someone's help - so futilely I try...
And then the lights go out. It's black. I've failed with the others -
those who came so very close - fathers, mothers, brothers...
When terror roots, a rebel shoots and death is what he gives -
yet blooming now from ugly roots, a lovely flower lives!
And two weeks later, I wake up, with coma finally over.
And though I ache from head to toe, I 'see' green fields of clover.
I 'see' a land so beautiful - a land that most can't see -
a land of milk and honey, of opportunity.
Now five years later, it came true. I'm thankful still today.
Though I don't know who rescued me, I'm in the USA!
It seems as though I'm born again - and not just 'physically'.
I 'see' this land more beautifully - and it comes 'spiritually'.
An everlasting land in Heav'n - if Jesus lives within.
He picks us up right where we fall - if we've been born again.
The day is very peaceful. Although the terror looms,
As God creates the beauty, His precious child blooms.
(pictures of Jellee/Veronica and her bullet wounds can be seen at "Gander Poems")
©2012 louis gander / www.ganderpoems.org
Four Story Poem
First, a young girl, excited, exploding with joy
Too much love is dangerous
She worked at a fireworks factory
It blew up with all that energy along with her
So much for too much love
Second, a river became twisted and fell
Drunk with water that made it dizzy
It was young, not familiar with meandering
But like all good rivers going down
It found its depth and did not drown
Third, there was an old lady walking around
Always looked down as people watched her
They accused her of being sad and senile
She smiled inside her soul
Saying prayers for them as she bowed low
Fourth, fireworks aftermath fell to the river
Floated with material and young girl parts
The old prayer lady dropped a flower in
As the river turned around the friendly bend
Growing larger, rolled on to the natural end
In a squat way at the back of high street
Lived a blue-eyed soul, Orpheus his name.
A blues and roots minstrel of rock and beat,
He was a living legend, with fame aflame.
Eurydice was his radiant star.
They sang and danced clasped together tight.
In duet jives, beating twelve to the bar.
But cruel fate ruined all this one dark night.
Eurydice was drugged by a snake.
She died, her spirit falling without trace,
Into the Hades dark arms at daybreak.
Orpheus loss gutted, missed her embrace.
Orpheus, maddened sad by love's despair,
Entered the underworld, to get her back.
Reliant on songs of hope and prayer,
To free Eurydice from the attack.
Orpheus' music pierced evil ears.
With his words of sorrow, lifting the shades,
Making the underworld weep, and shed tears,
Making the guard dog, slacken its charades.
Hades hood-winked by the sad sorrow song,
Agreed to let her go on the proviso,
That Orpheus would not look back along
Their journey back from Hell's gate to Soho.
Hades knew well that the urge to look back
By Orpheus would grow and grow too strong
As their path grew lighter from gloom doom black
Love would no longer postpone their duet song.
As light was in sight, journey's end so near,
The longing to see his love one triumphed!
Whispers of doubt echoed drones in his ear.
Surely the pledge he made could be defaulted?
As he looked back and smiled, his love faded.
Eurydice shrunk to ghost, slid away.
Orpheus left alone, gutted and jaded
Was tormented by remorse, tears could not allay
His music now has a somber sad tone,
Seeking some solace in each note he plays,
With his black heart blues hoping to atone
For the love he lost, for wanting love's gaze.
I broke my ankle badly yesterday in a fall.
I had no intention of going back to work at all.
A friend offered her holiday house for me stay.
I accepted immediately as I needed to get away.
I arrived to a little cabin all cozy and neat.
On the mat ‘Welcome, Please, wipe your feet.’
Inside it was furnished in old world style.
Looked like no one had been there for a while.
Limping, I dragged all my luggage inside,
And went round opening all the curtains wide.
Outside was silent and still, not hearing a peep.
I could see it would be easy to get some sleep.
I started a fire and then fixed a quick snack.
My foot on a stool and I reclined right back.
Through the window I peaked, a man was there.
At first all I could do was stand and stare.
He knocked hard so I opened the door
He politely asked, “What are you here for?”
“I live here, well no, my friend owns this place.”
“Ahh, you know my sister? Is that the case?
Did she tell you that her brother, part-owner,
Chooses to stay here and be quite a loner?”
I replied “There is only one bed, you cannot stay.”
“You are harsh, I have come quite a long way.”
“Well I guess I cant kick a part owner out.
Sleep on the sofa and only quietly move about.”
“You know you are lucky that I am here.
It’s on the radio about an escaped convict to fear.
Being a strong man I will protect you from harm.
So you can stay relaxed and feel very calm.”
“Well that is fine but I don’t yet know your name.”
“Hasn’t my sister mentioned my name? That’s a shame.
My name is Jackson, but I prefer Jack, How do you do?”
“I am Geraldine, but Gerry if its all the same to you,
Here are blankets and pillows, Anything you need?
I am off to bed, I seem to be very tired indeed.”
I went to bed, my friend called my cell phone.
She said “How’s my friend who is accident-prone?
Did you find everything, is there anything you lack?’
“Well, I found your brother” “I don’t have a brother” she answered back.