Best Studied Poems
Sophie Scholl was raised a Christian in a Lutheran family
Born in the town of Forchtenberg in south west Germany
For standing defiant against evil with her young life she'd pay
In a country that was in deep turmoil and had lost its way.
She was a young teenager in nineteen thirty three
When a new leader offering hope, emerged in Germany
Adolf Hitler was an Austrian, who came to power
And for many it was the start of their darkest hour.
To unite the German people the Nazis held rallies
In some of the larger towns and all the big cities
But something dark and sinister was taking place
The evil Nazis were plotting to create a master race.
All the youth were encouraged to join an organisation
Hitler youth they were known all over the nation
Sophie and her brother together, with some of their friends
Turned their backs on the movement and vowed to make amends.
Word was getting around about death camps and persecution
Together they decided to form, a small non violent organisation
Known as the 'White Rose' who urged the people to renounce Hitler
They handed out leaflets telling the truth, about the Nazis slaughter.
One day at Munich University where Sophie studied as a student
She was seen distributing leaflets on what Nazi ideology meant
A janitor intervened and confronted her, and wouldn't let her go
She was arrested and then handed over to the notorious Gestapo.
They interrogated her to find out, who her accomplices were
But she wouldn't give them their names, as they tortured her
They charged her with high treason and sentenced her to death
To die by the guillotine and the date of execution was set.
They executed twenty one year old Sophie for making a stand
And they had accused her of being a traitor, to the fatherland
They eventually captured the others, five of them in all
And they too walked to their deaths standing proud and tall.
It’s people like Sophie who want to make the world a better place
And not supporting some twisted ideology like a master race
The Nazis were eventually defeated and their leaders tried
But not before Sophie and millions of other innocents had died.
Written 15th May 2021.
I was a planetary climatologist, who studied climate variability and change,
Like sweet variability of stunning, green tulips, in lavish garden rearranged.
Studying the said effects on the biosphere, absorbed so many daily hours,
Like industrious days of fragrant, amber honey, after tumbling into flowers.
My labors impacted energy usage, along with food production and health,
And the survival of endangered species, like golden rays of natural wealth.
Faddish flowers fascinated friends, who flattered them, at my broad fence,
Under fleecy, lemony clouds, fast moving, and orange sun, grown intense.
Famished, feasible family feasted, in lavish flowering fragrance of Fridays,
When fugitive, frosty stars flickered, winking at green garden bonsai trees.
I lived in the house of emerald echoes, in vivid memory of nature's sound,
From birdsong to crickets to evening wind, and brook of babbling renown.
Sachets swept away a sudden sadness, as robins sought another summer,
On my street of starry-eyed forget me nots, like a tune with no drummer.
Nobody knew latest neighborhood news, like my nearest friends next door,
Like chameleon sun, crisscrossing teal sky, wholly ignorant of 'nevermore.'
Pink birds were living high, and red butterflies viewed a world, ultraviolet;
And yellow bees went about their sweet labors, since queen bee desired it.
Strawberry clouds sailed around the world, for clouds ever love adventure,
As dogwoods barked in summer's dog days, during a gold noon surrender.
As I was walking home one day, the sun vanished as skies turned ominous.
There was a lightning flash just before the thunder, loud and cacophonous!
Suddenly, I saw a male face in the clouds, that was bellowing and enraged,
Like blizzard winds through naked trees, howling at a lush year that's aged.
Taken aback, like butterflies in gusts, I had come face to face with thunder-
The mighty, furious face of the storm, and I was filled with sudden wonder!
Then came the silver rains, sideways slanting, at the dead end of drought;
And I raced home like all uneasy nature, in the successive hours of doubt.
Scintillating sun had returned next day, after banishing the tangerine mist,
As benevolent nature was no more angry, its tale ending in an orange twist!
In the flickering light of the lamp,
Despite the chilly night, air so damp,
She surveyed books so avidly read,
Studied the guidelines now in her head.
Time came: she departed for the war,
Sure she'd care for all those wounded sore.
Many followed as she left her stamp,
At night she'd be the lady with the lamp.
Dear Carolyn:
Another letter from another tour
In this place in the sand they call Helmand
This will be my last, for you can be sure
To never look back on these Afghan lands
Dear James:
It's been so long since I've felt your embrace
Studied the constellations through your eyes
Found joy in the manly features of your face
Or recovered from our last sad goodbyes
Dear Carolyn:
Another two lost, one was my best friend
Before it's me, I pray my leave is soon
My heart is crying out, my hopes descend
Is tomorrow my day, in deathly strewn
Dear James:
I've been praying so hard; surely you're safe
The son I carry will have his Dad's smile
I don't think God would orphan our young waif
You must walk through our door in a short while
Dear Carolyn:
The joy in your letter, mother to be
Me a father, soon to be homeward bound
Grow with my kin in the land of the free
To thrive in peace on American ground
Dear James:
I think our boy will be a football star
Perhaps he’s sending a message to Dad
Like Peyton and Eli he’s thrusting hard
To have you and him here, I’ll be so glad
Dear Carolyn:
As James was preparing to say goodbye
Boarding the chopper to take him your way
Enemy aircraft dropped bombs from the sky
I regret to say this was James’ last day
Commanding Officer Brannigan
U.S. Armed Forces, Afghanistan
On a pleasant Sunday morning,
beside a river in a park,
I went strolling in the city,
in the dawn just after dark.
Every bench; any haven,
slept a host of homeless men,
who have slipped through the cracks;
society had failed again.
I assumed there’s many reasons,
why a man lives on the street,
but strolling past the sleeping,
means that I never get to meet,
and get the opportunity,
to sit down and hear a tale,
from one of these down and outers,
and what caused their life to fail.
And then by chance upon one bench,
I spied a man who sat upright;
the collar of his coat turned up,
his sunken eyes a gloomy sight.
He hadn’t shaved for quite a while,
and his clothes looked gravely worn -
My chance to greet a homeless man,
came on an early Sunday morn.
I intended to ask questions,
hoping he might tell his plights,
about what put him on the streets,
where he must spend his nights.
And he was more than forthright,
speaking of the reasons why,
for once he claimed he had it all,
then overnight it was goodbye.
‘Three weeks ago I had it all,
a solid roof above my head.
Three meals a day, and fresh clothes,
no bills, no debt for me to dread.
I studied on the Internet,
and also there was Pay T.V.
I also had a library,
and was covered medically
I felt sorry for this fellow,
who claimed that once he had it all,
so I asked him the obvious,
what was the cause for him to fall.
Was it drugs; divorce; alcohol,
that finally took it’s toll?
‘No nothing like that’ he replied,
‘the prison granted my parole.’
W-hen the fullness of time had come, Jesus was born behind an Inn in a cave-like stable.
I-n the Inn there was no room for the Son of God, no room for the Saviour of men.
S-tar was shining so bright above the stable for the shepherds to find their way to Him.
E-ven angels proclaimed His birth to those shepherds "Unto you is born this day."
M-anger is where Mary and Joseph first laid him. It was filled with hay.
E-very animal there must have known that their Creator had come that day.
N-o one knew the depth of love God had, to give His Son to dwell among men.
S-ame star guided three kings from the Orient, who studied the stars and heavens.
T-hese wise men from the East came saying "Where is He that is born King"
I-n their hands they brought him gifts of gold, frankincense and myrr.
L-ike these three wise men, wise men still seek him today!
L-ove is the reason that God sent His only Begotton Son into the world to save us.
S-eeking for you and me, yes God was seeking for us because we had left Him.
E-veryone, yes, all we like sheep have gone astray. Everyone to his own way.
E-ach one has to make his on decision to follow Him or not to follow Him.
K-ing, born to be a King. King of the ages. King of the past. King of the future.
H-eaven, He came from Heaven to earth to show us the right way.
I-niquity, the Lord hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all.
M-elody, He gives us a sweet melody, we sing many songs of praise to Him.
T-ree, A Christmas tree, the love that Jesus had for us, to die on a tree.
O-nly one life and how soon it passes. Only in life can we accept His Love.
D-eliverance, He came from Heaven to preach deliverance to the captives.
A-cknowlege Him and accept Him. Behold now is the accepted time.
Y-ou, Yes, this Christmas Love was for You. Will You accept this love?
For Brian Strands Christmas Love contest.
How do I begin to describe you
Such an incredible person
Yet even now you doubt your abilities
You lost your own mum when you were eight - you never ever got over it
You worked all your life, started off by working in a bank for almost 20 years
Then when you had children you ran a village shop from home
But also helped run the smallholding where we lived
You even had an evening job to bring in extra income
Then you began working in a care home and that had a big impact on you
At 50 you changed direction in life and studied and trained to be a nurse
No mean fete with two children to bring up
When you retired you continued to work in a care home
Then you undertook charity work every week still continuing well into your eighties
In fact you were on your way to work at the charity shop when you fell
You were found lying in the street …
Two bleeds on your brain and over three months in hospital
How you pulled through I will never know
Yet you battled on and are still with us still
Now you have short-term memory issues and are going blind
Fate struck a cruel blow when dad was diagnosed with terminal cancer
He passed away in February
Your lifelong partner for nearly sixty years
Your world turned upside down and now you live in a care home
We are selling the family home - gosh I find it tough emotionally
I know we have lost dad but I feel like I am losing you too
You are helping me clear out things from the house
Items you have known and loved for many years
Sadly we can’t keep everything
It must be so so difficult for you, yet you never complain
I just want you to know how much I love you
How much you inspire me
We only have one mum and I am so lucky I have you still
Written for a previous contest but too late to be submitted
Placed in Judy Konos' Contest - tell us about your mom
18th September 2015
I bought a box of truth from a peddler down the street,
even though he told me its veracity might sting.
I handed him a stack of bills and asked for a receipt.
The box was wrapped in violet silk and tied with silver string.
I gripped the lid with shaking hands and paused with bated breath,
even though he told me its veracity might sting.
The truth inside the box was even uglier than death.
It slapped me with repugnance and assaulted with its stench.
I gripped the lid with shaking hands and paused with bated breath.
I closed the box in panicked shock and struggled not to blench.
Receipt in hand, I hurried to return the wretched truth.
It slapped me with repugnance and assaulted with its stench.
I found that lousy peddler selling boxes from his booth.
He studied me with sympathy and eyed my violet crate.
Receipt in hand, I hurried to return the wretched truth.
With fingers clenched in fury and a heart awash with hate,
I bought a box of lies from that peddler down the street.
He studied me with sympathy and eyed my yellow crate.
I handed him a stack of bills and asked for no receipt.
Just how small can the smallest things be?
Is there anything even smaller to see?
Down where tiny particles are giants
discovered, observed and studied by science
Does the subatomic go in as far
as the universe's most distant star?
And from even a molecule's point of view
are there things even more minute to pursue?
Does infinity truly stretch both ways
without and within, or let me rephrase
Does the microscopic go on forever
in a vast and endlessly inward endeavor?
Are protons and neutrons the equals of
the planets and galaxies up above?
Whether grandiose or inconsequential
may your regard for each be reverential
For all creation should be held in awe
with its perfect alignment of physical law
From Canis Majoris to a hydrogen bond
and everything in between and beyond
We each are a part both great and small
of the infinitesimal and cosmic all
FROM HUMBLE BEGINNINGS
As the bitter Northern wind howled in the grey early morn,
Sat a young child half frozen, looking sad and forlorn,
He came from a rundown broken home, with 6 siblings,
Where there was little money, no hope and poor beginnings.
Rob always sat on the same flat rock in a nearby littered field,
Not dressed for the biting winter, and his body to shield,
Sat aimlessly, blankly gazing at coal trucks driving by,
Tears rolling down his grubby cheeks, he’d let out a heartfelt sigh!
His father drove trucks, would he come home, even late, tonight,
Would his mother be sober, kiss her husband; say all would be right,
Would there ever be enough food for a big family of nine,
Or would they forever stay hungry, sent shivers up his spine!
A young girl his age noticed this boy, whose name was Rob,
Dressed in a warm coat, gloves, ear muffs, but was no snob,
Lived in the suburbs, often saw Rob today, she brought him a coat,
A slab of chocolate, a warm scarf for his head, ears and throat!
Young Rob liked this young Missy, they began to meet every day,
Lizzy invited him home, met her parents, went there every Sunday,
Their friendship grew, and blossomed and they fell madly in love,
Rob studied, got a scholarship to Technical College, rewarded from above.
Lizzy’s father was the Mine Manager, and he liked this young man,
When finished his studies, made him foreman and gave him a van,
They got engaged in December, married in the spring of the following year,
Rob became a dad, loved his wife, who had pierced his heart with a spear!
They grew old together, as did Lizzy’s parents, who both got ill and died,
Rob became Mine Manager, this family had adopted him with such pride,
But he never forgot his own parents, and his oh so humble beginnings,
Always sent them a monthly sum, and for them always had feelings!
The Full Moon Makes Faces Tonight
Gazing out my picture window on this darkest of night,
The full moon shone sky-high with the brightest of light.
I spied its eldritch contours and its dark areas whole,
As this lucent orb made faces at me from pole to pole.
Methinks these faces were for this special moment now,
A teasing fantasy-illusion for me to wonder why and how?
This full moon had two eyes stone-set from East to West,
Giving me a very comical-look whilst winking all the best!
This lunar illusion silently sang a sly aria full of devilry,
As it mesmerized my senses replete with all due revelry.
As I studied this comedic-faced orb far from our Earth,
I felt its true spiritual intent was one for a cosmic rebirth.
The full moon made its curious faces on this darkest night,
Whilst I smiled big as I basked and bathed in its lunar light!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
(June 14, 2017) (Couplet)
2018 - nothing new here
He sits
slumped in his corner
weary, battered, bruised,
but not beaten.
He has survived,
studied this craft,
this art of living,
these cycles of change.
He has tasted the acrid,
bitter sting of defeat,
soft warmth
of victory’s vanity,
both fleeting plateaus.
He sees
through puffy eyes
another adversary
youthful, inexperienced,
unblemished by struggle.
He taps gloves,
nods to this new opponent,
knows that the object
is not to defeat him,
but to teach him,
that victory is a feeble friend,
defeat a melancholy mistress.
The bell will ring,
the ball will fall
the crowd will roar
the dance begin anew.
John G. Lawless
©12/29/2017
He could have studied harder in school
He knew he should have, but he didn't
He thought to ask his sweetheart to wed
He knew he ought to, but he didn't
He planned to try harder at work
He knew he needed to, but he didn't
He might have been good at almost anything
He knew he should have been, but he wasn't
He shouldn't have been homeless, but he was
He didn't want to lose his job, but he did
He'd never asked to be born, but he was
He was going to discuss it with his folks, but he didn't
He wasn't supposed to die on a cold winter's night
under a bridge, in a cardboard box, his feet wrapped in rags...
NEW: Sep
When the guy at the garage
who’d serviced my car
said ”Ahoy There Me Matey!”
and added ”Oooh Aarrrr!”
I just stood there perplexed
and confused as to why
he was wearing an eye patch
across his good eye
“Look I don’t understand
why you’re acting this way”
“Cos the 19th’s World Talk
Like A Pirate Talks day”
Then I asked how my car was
as if to tempt fate
“Landlubber, me hearty
‘tis in pieces of eight!”
The Diary So Far
Jan
to an air infused with wilting pine
and the first eight lines of auld lang syne
new year proclaimed for all its worth:
hope, happiness and peace on earth
it kissed and danced about the floor
- then yawned and fell asleep once more.
Feb
I wish to thank a roman priest
who died in two six nine
as he's the reason centuries on
we now have valentine
I like the verses on his cards
and how for just one day
he writes nice things about my wife
that I sign anyway
but I like his chocolates best of all
as they melt away the thought
of last month's resolutions
and that gym pass that I bought.
Mar
I don't see spring as others do
with nature's love therein
- that sense of hope when winter leaves
and warmer days begin
for come that warmth I see but death
as battles march once more
just like my name derived from mars
- the roman god of war.
Apr
Dear Gary
We're printing your poems in a series of books
to be studied by pupils at school.
Please accept an advance of ten thousand pounds.
You are great!
Kind Regards
April Fool.
May
in any given year this month
is so unique because
no other month begins or ends
on the same day that may does.
Jun
It’s around this time of year
when summer’s sun is realigned
I’m reminded of that solstice
at stonehenge in '93
I’d ‘rolled’ up for a concert
when it dawned upon my mind:
”See Ancient Stones And Rock” was not
The Stones I’d hoped to see.
Jul
Five days on the Thames
Rounded up, ringed then released.
Summer’s Swan Upping.
Aug
When Gaius Octavius became Emperor Augustus
they renamed the month after him.
Just Imagine the outcry if a leader today
did something like this on a whim.
I was born, Bronx, New York, in the year 'Thirty-Nine',
the first child with a brother who followed in time.
Ten years later, moved North, Hudson Valley, same State
where I've settled, lived on with my loved ones to date.
But when young, in my school, two fine talents emerged,
and my teachers spared hours to encourage my urge.
I enjoyed my young years while I painted and penned;
lots of canvas and paper used up without end.
At eighteen, I then married the love of my life
and enjoyed my new path of becoming a wife
to my US Marine, very handsome and true;
Parris Island, our home for a year, almost two.
By the age twenty-five- was a mother of three;
a fine son, two sweet girls, a complete family.
We worked hard every day and our life was so good.
I wrote poems and painted whenever I could.
Later, painting with oils was the pastime for me-
while I studied for years at an art gallery.
Varied art shows, displays, and a job filled my time.
Soon I sold many pieces and life was sublime.
Yet, the years went by fast and at age thirty-nine,
I enrolled in a college to study part-time.
Six years later, I earned my prized English degree-
a BA—and a Minor in Business for me.
Then my pictures with words replaced those done with art,
and I soon published poems of life and of heart.
Yet along in this time of my great writing spree
I worked hard every day as our business VP.
For a full twenty years, we worked hard faithfully
after hubby retired as the Chief of FD,
selling our fire equipment, all types, big and small
to FDs, factories, district schools, and the malls.
Our dear children all married, with families too,
are involved happily in whatever they do.
Happy grandma of five- twenty-five to eighteen-
and one granddaughter married two thousand thirteen.
We retired, sold our business thirteen years ago,
still so busy with life, with its ebb and its flow.
We are proud and so blessed and thank God up above,
for our days and our life of good times filled with love.
April 11, 2015
~1st Place~
Premiere Contest: Where Are You From
Sponsor: Joseph Soper
Judged: 08/01/2017
~2nd Place~
Contest: Bio of a Poet
Sponsor: Tammy Reams
Judged: 04/18/2015
Form: Anapestic Tetrameter (12 syllables, 4 feet per line)