Best Suit Of Armor Poems
Kyoko walks alone in the morning tide,
comforted for a fleeting moment by salty air.
She feels the same sand between her toes
as when she was a barefoot little girl, in a time
she felt safe, when the eyes of her mother protected her
like a suit of armor - before the mighty wall of water,
the “harbor wave”, towered over her village
near Fukushima, washing her happy childhood away.
Her dear mother, her security, her everything
never came home that day.
Many months later, her father, a local fisherman,
has lost his ability to cry, laugh or tell her why.
His silent eyes, cold as frost, are dead
like the poisoned fish he nets every morning.
In many ways, Kyoko lost both of her parents
on that haunting day - forced to grow up long before
the water receded, before the nuclear leak,
before this new, austere existence.
Night deepens the despair. She is loneliest
when darkness invades. She prays for the crickets
return. They no longer sing her to sleep, and the stars
have faded, no longer shining through her open window.
Even the grasshoppers have died…
from restless sleep, night calls her to the mirror
to find her mother’s dark eyes staring back at her –
a curse she hopes will one day become a blessing,
a hope that one day her father will look at her again...
With tomorrow, her greatest burden will return.
She will wake along side the broken-winged butterfly
with her duties in mind. Then, she’ll wear her stoic face
to the marketplace. Father says he will soon lose
his fishing boat. She has heard visitors from the city say
only a fool would eat the fish from nearby waters,
the same fish she fries most every day. No one knows
the global impact, they say. She hears foreign words
like radiation, disease and mutation while she sells
the shiso and wasabi root from their garden stand,
feeling fear she does not fully understand but one day will.
She only knows how to survive today…
For Debbie Guzzi's Global Poetry Contest, 11/19/14
Joan of Arc – For God and Country
On the feast of the Three Kings was born,
a baby girl, in 1412, under the sign of Capricorn.
Destined to accomplish great deeds and achieve fame,
Joan d’Arc was her auspicious name.
A religious and political scapegoat,
her short life to God and country she did devote.
Fervently spurred by heavenly voices,
Joan’s fate was guided by singular choices.
She avidly believed in her mystical visions,
and was obsessed to fulfill her divine mission.
Each night she prayed, “Oh God, save France,”
until at last she was granted the perfect chance.
Leaving her family and the village of Domremy,
she pursued her destiny to defeat France’s enemy.
The “Maid of Orleans” with religious fervor and zeal
took a vow of chastity and her fate was solidly seal.
During the Hundred Years’ War, she took up sword and banner;
mounted on a white horse, arrayed in a white suit of armor.
Leading the French army to a momentous victory,
her rousing battle cry was, “For God and country.”
Abandoned by King Charles the VII and betrayed in the end,
she was burnt at the stake by French collaborators and English men.
Accusing her of witchcraft, heresy, and for dressing like a man,
at age 19, her life was all over according to their devious plan.
But even though her light was snuffed out by hatred and bigotry,
her exemplary courage and strength helped to unify her country.
Joan of Arc, a simple peasant girl, became a woman warrior,
and to the world a symbol of conviction, fortitude, and true valor.
Canonized a saint by Pope Benedict XV 500 years later,
Joan was named Patron Saint of France, rape victims, prisoners, and martyrs.
08-28-2015
Contest: Joan of Arc
Sponsor: Isaiah Zerbst
Placement: 2nd
Like our smartphone powers us through our day
We have to learn to put God into play
In the most powerful way
He is in our hearts to stay
So we must start our day
Asking God for his protection when we pray
Against life's worst kind of infections
That trips us up allowing us to lose our direction
Our Lord with all his loving affection
Gives us a suit of armor to shield us from evil
We constantly feel that is ever so real
Knowing in Gods deal
He provides us with his holy seal
A suit of armor made of unpenetrable steel
Bearing the breastplate of righteousness
Allowing health happiness and good fortune
To make its way into our lives
Giving us a helmet of salvation
So we can be saved and redeemed
Throughout our duration
Of our time here in his creation
Learning and cultivating in his ways
Providing his mighty sword for our protection
Against satan's demons and warlords
When we put Gods armor on every day
We ensure satan will never take our soul away
Because we keep our faith and give God our trust
So all satans plans will be reduced to dust
Loving God is always a must
To stay far away from Satan's lust
Everything he promises is a bust
God is our moral crust
Whom we should never distrust
Such sweet little wildflowers
Shades varied in tones of blue
Growing along stream's bower
Softly kissed by morning dew.
Near such stream, a besotted knight
Walked with his lovely fair maiden
In suit of armor, he met his plight
In his hand, forget-me-nots laden.
Legend has it he fell in the river
Still holding on to his fragile gift
Tossed, the flowers he was to give her
A clenched hand was all he could lift.
As a symbol of faithful love so true
Forget-me-nots grow in early Spring
I will offer some I'll pick for you
When on my knee, I offer you a ring.
Sometimes, I find myself on a battleground
in the present or in sieges from the distant past
It may be a war I've been waging within myself,
a thorn that needs plucking so that I might heal
I wear no crown, nor do I wish to be gowned
in regal robes and sit upon a throne looking down
on anyone. For me, those things hold no appeal
I am rebellious against the many wrongs I've seen
and if you think it's mean of me to feel that way—
You don't know me well enough to pass judgement
With regret, I've been the cause of an Angel's weeping
when down a misguided path I chose to walk
Mistakes? I've made my share of them, maybe more
but I've always tried to amend my faults in some way
Indemnity is not always reimbursed with coin
More often than not, my tears the price to pay
Sometimes, even I have not found the sentience of it—
things I do; emotions I feel. No reason as to why except
that I am compelled without restraint or prudence to try
I refute the need to live by the creed of the golden rule—
for only a fool would claim the world is a righteous place
where smug faces play fair in games of love and war
If I am defeated, I never hesitate to stand again
for I've always despised the thought of white flags
and retreating like a coward again and again, in sad refrain
I garner resilience and strength from every enemy I meet
and in defeat, my stratagem sharpens much keener
I am not a warrior; that's not the path I want to take
I've been storm tossed in seas of turbulent weather
When faced with animosity, I will not shiver and quake
Offered silk or suit of armor— I prefer a softer demeanor
Self-professed I am supple of breast
Heart not crafted from leather
From flesh, blood and bone
Of the gender called woman
I was not chiseled from stone
She wore a whole suit of armor around her heart and soul that nobody could come through to cause her fear, suffering, and pain, she wouldn't have it let alone permit it to happen so she never let people see to the heart of her soul.
She first started wearing the suit of armor as a child, she continued to keep it polished and strong all of these years it had worked like a charm. Family, and friends all thought they knew her heart, soul, thoughts, and feelings.
But the truth of the matter is nobody really knew her at all, they were just trying to tell her how to think and feel because they thought they were so smart. She thought it was funny at how they assumed that they knew her when in truth they didn't, all thanks to her polished strong suit of armor that she wore.
She believed with her whole heart and soul that nobody would ever come past her polished strong suit of armor that she wore, she found out just how naive she really was one day.
It just wasn't anybody no this person was the only person who has always had her heart from their very first meeting of each other, she continued to try and keep her suit of armor polished and strong even though she was with her love.
But to her greatest surprise and dismay, she didn't notice anything wrong until it was way too late, her love had already put a crack in her polished strong suit of armor that she wore to protect herself with. No matter how much she tried she couldn't fix the crack in her polished strong suit of armor that she wore, the damage was already done and her love had already seen through to her heart and soul.
By: Vera Rice!
Sheets of blank paper had yellowed with age
I wielded a pen, but no ink was spilled by my hand,
Memories were left unwritten on every page,
though as many as a beach holds grains of sand
I gave in to my Muse and scrawled line after line
thoughts drawn from my soul, buried fathoms deep
Were all of those sad recollections really mine?
They were flowing as freely as the tears I weep
Reflections of my past in sunlight and ebony night,
refusing to remain entombed, fled from their prison
Strokes from darkness were escaping their plight
Released by my pen, from their sepulcher had risen
There is battle brandishing power in the pen I wield
A weapon I've found useful in place of a silent tongue
It cannot protect me as though suit of armor or shield,
Emotions shouldn't be confined; they should be sung
Therewithal, profluent life ettles it's while.
Thitherward, from Death's bleak campanile
Grim antiphonals serenade.
A capriccio, the slashing swipe of the reaper's scythe
will serenade.
Stringent Death forthwith anoints the mithridate to
Life's cantankerous and rankling ado
Hither now come, anon recondite Azrael, neither protend
nor annex this throttled contretemps.
The antiphonal of the reaper's cavalier scythe
Shall now serenade.
Awhirl, like kerfs demarcated
Years, bollixed, muzzy and brattled
shall holus-bolus expire.
No retaliation to death's gloomy surcease
No ingenious riposte to the reaper's final cleave.
Bootless now to don the amulets,
squeeze the jujus,
Kiss the talismans,
clutch the periapts or
Attire in steely cataphract.
The serenading of the reaper's scythe,
it's efficacy shall blithely cleave.
Bedim mine eyes from life's assailing
Bedim mine eyes from life's poltroonery
Vocabulary: barghest-a goblin fabled to portend misfortune; monody-funeral song;
antiphonal-chant; protend-to protract in time/lengthen; riposte-n. in fencing, a quick
return/thrust; brattle-v.-to make rattling or clattering noises;
cavalier-supercillious/disdainful/haughty; muzzy-hazy; attaint-v. to condemn; rankle-to
give pain/nettle/gnaw; contretemps-untoward accident/hitch; throttle-v.to
choke/suffocate/strangle/stiffle; bollix-v.-to bungle or botch; holus-bolus-adv.-all at
once/altoghter; mithridate-antidote against poison; cataphract-suit of armor for the
whole body; poltroonery-n. cowardice; a capriccio-musical piece characterized by
improvisation; ettle-to intend/to prepare; campanile-free standing bell tower; kerf-a
groove or notch
Azrael-the angel that helps souls from living to enter the afterlife; recondite-not
easily understood/abstruce;
periapt-a charm worn to ward of evil; juju-object believed to contain magical powers;
contretemps-disruptive unforeseen event; protend-to hold out or stretch forth
Out in the midst of a deep dark forest the soothsayers silently sat.
As they tried to make out either heads or tails from the entrails of a cat.
“What think ye?” said the first to his scrutinizing mate.
“What is it that we can tell King Eric about his coming fate?”
His wife took only a moment to consider what she had to say.
Then she offered up her thoughts “I think it will rain today.”
“Rain?” asked Keith the conjurer as stared at his Mariann.
“What does that have to do with the king? I don’t see how it fits the plan.”
“The King relies on Sir John the Brave he’s the knight that is truly trusted.
But when he travels with the King today he’ll become completely rusted.
And in his suit of armor Sir John will be frozen into place.
Allowing the King’s enemies to overcome him in the chase.
Tell the King to remain castle bound for at least another week.
He should not try to make a move until once again we speak.”
Then Mariann the seer moved a little closer to the fire,
And smiled because she knew she held the King like vice grip pliers.
Nehemiah 8:10
"He said to them, go, eat the choice things and drink what is sweet, and send portions of food to those who have nothing prepared, for this day is holy to our lord, and do not feel sad, for the joy of god is your stronghold."
In troubled times I take great comfort in reading God's Words
They remind me that man is incapable of guiding his own steps
and will only find true joy by pleasing and honoring Him.
To offer my help to brothers and sisters who are in need
is an act of humble kindness, and follows Jesus' example.
He healed the sick, fed the poor through miracles,
giving those inflicted, hope and faith that someone cared.
Through him, God's power enabled them to believe in Him,
and ended their hardship in time of sorrow and despair.
I know that with God's help, all things will be made right.
I walk in fear of displeasing Him, and fear not mortal man.
I am not a cup bearer to a king, but His praises I proclaim.
With faith like Nehemiah, I will not bend if I'm opposed
My joy comes from pleasing my Father, and doing His will.
I rejoice in thanks for the many blessings He bestows
on lowly humans, such that I am, whose sins are many.
There is reason to hope with the sunrise of each new day,
I hear it when songbirds sing, and in the whispering wind.
I see the beauty of His creations, every where I look...
in mountain streams, and dreams of a promised paradise.
Joy, to me is a view of moonlight and a star filled sky.
In solemn prayer I offer Him my life as a willing slave.
I feel the warmth of His hand on my shoulder when I pray
I have no wall to repair, nor temple to honor in His name,
but with a faithful heart, I respond to His love and mercy
for when God finds joy in me, He is my suit of armor.
September 15, 2020
Joy of the Lord Poetry
Sponsor~Regina McIntosh
What is a flea market? I asked, unsure.
I found all kinds of things not found in the mall.
Antiques that brought memories back
Things I have never seen anywhere else
Things I knew I would never see or find anywhere else again
Home made things from creative people
Shiny things, feathery things, things of leather.
I was overjoyed when I discovered you can lug stuff to a cashier.
She will make you a pile and give you a number.
My number should have been JACKPOT
My pile was huge.
\My sister was askance.
My car is not big enough for all that, she told me.
Not to worry, I replied as they lugged a ten foot suit of armor to the register.
I have had to rent a truck to bring that guy home.
I desperately want to fall apart
Yet something keeps me going
And the role of a martyring heart
Is not something I wanted knowing.
To me you opened up infinity of topics,
The bowl of pleasure you filled up.
I didn't want to but turned out to be myopic
And fail to explain what's in my cup.
Pure sensations of both a soar and a loss,
I fell into this long and dear dream.
The settlement is due when I wake up, my boss
Is yet again my heart, that's what I mean.
Self identity, anxiety, fairy tales,
Regret, creativity, content, euphoria of being,
You are undoubtedly the best of males!
Self worth and peace within for the time being.
Accepting me for what I am is priceless
Yet why without you it's oh so hard?
I know the power of my mind is limitless
Yet oftentimes I feel as if a retard.
I want to walk the street of life
With loving self, content and passion.
So why the dark? The damp? And knife
Of pain is choking me? My skin is ashen.
The pain abates and then intensifies again,
It'd be so nice to cry. No tears. Thievery.
Now tell me how do I go on? "Do not depend!"
It'd be too easy. But there comes another reverie...
Your face, your hands, your voice and skin,
They glow in my imagination.
We can't be a couple. We're too akin.
My brain and soul got inflammation.
I put back on full suit of armor.
I stand, I faint, try to fight the nausea
Perhaps it does not at all exist, this harbor...
Sweet pain. And I am left with my insomnia.
My dear torturer, if you are toxic,
I would for sure intoxicate myself again.
I'm oh so craving your sweet toxin.
It blurs and stirs my body up with pain.
This crazy lassitude I crave and cannot bear,
It's agonizing and therefore a bliss.
Evolution's problems land on my shoulders with despair
I search for answers - yet another miss.
I smear my life again with painful failures,
I ache but strive inside for burning ingle.
My needs and pain are elaborately tailored.
Yes I am absolutely mad for emotional tingle.
Funny, kind, caring, crazy,
these are the words used to describe me.
Little do they know I paint on a mask,
Smiling day in and day out is such a daunting task.
I wake up every day and find the strength for the never ending,
because on me, my kids are depending.
I show them every day forward is the only direction,
They don’t know what it’s like to battle depression.
What I would give for them reaches far and wide,
ignoring the feeling burning deep inside.
I make sure they never feel this pain,
and I show them every day to dance in the rain.
The light at the end of the tunnel shines bright,
and that is where I set my sight.
Though I may be broken and torn,
A suit of armor will always be worn.
I caught my breath tonight
When my soul spun into oblivion
I reached out to catch it
But the wind whipped it away
I wondered what if felt like to be a suit of armor
Standing at attention shining and strong
Waiting for something to come fill it
And I wondered can anyone just fill it
Or was it molded to fit just the right shape
And I often wondered how many people tried to squeeze in it
To wear it with pride when riding into battle
Only to bring it back battered and dented
To realize that fit just wasn’t right
Was their someone there to hammer the contours back into place
To buff out the scratches and patch over the holes
And did this make the armor stronger or weak
Could it ever return to what it was
The strength it possessed when it was first worn
Will it be polished and shined to be put in a museum
Or will it age and rust abandoned in a field
To become a house for the birds
Shelter for mice and home to the weeds
A lone sentry forever protecting emptiness inside
Intricate are the patterns
that Dream weaves in the
darkest realm of my mind;
I once saw myself walking
along the seashore of
gleaming golden sands
strewn with sparkling gems.
There were women -
Fair, bald and beautiful -
sprawled naked on the beach
groveling at my feet
squirming and moaning
in the scorching heat
of the midday sun.
I saw myself standing amid them
dressed in a sheik's flowing robe
and wearing a bejeweled turban.
In my one hand I held
a glittering Excalibur
and an olive branch in the other.
At that moment I saw
someone riding upon
a giant bald eagle,
wearing a suit of armor,
swooping down on me
from the heavens;
In his left hand
He clutched a scroll,
In his right he held
a huge quill like a lance;
With the dexterity of a knight
He thrust the quill into my heart!
~Contest:Favorite Free Verse
Sponsor:Chantelle Anne Cooke
~"Best descriptive Poem" contest
Sponsor: A Poet Destroyer