Best Triumph Poems
As I wandered alone without a task
All around me wild flowers sprang forth
My face a sad contorted mask
Of emotionless strife since birth
My eyelids closed against the day
Enjoying the fall of darkness on my Earth
The sun tried to spread its ray
The sweet smelling fruit kissed my head
As beneath the mighty mango tree I lay
The deep red scars on my heart fled
When a strange melody on my fancy grew
And the balm of stillness on my limbs spread
An unknown peace I soon knew
When the leaves danced with the breeze
The shadows of my life I threw
The butterflies and the bees
On me did comfort heap
That amazingly I found under this tree
My shallow life and forgotten sleep
This wilderness made new
With pleasure my heart started to weep
The grave cares now seemed so few
My life found a new definition
And into the azure sky my soul flew
As darkness covers moonlit night
stubbornness of will tracks the light--
and climbs upon iced mountain top,
so near to fall, so quick flakes drop.
This sense of pride now goes astray
while new lunar moon guides the way;
and as stars circle winter- air,
I choose between hope or despair.
Beyond this pale landscape appears,
a gleaming flame till morning nears :
Aware of what such folly brings...
my heart triumphs when conceit flings:
Now I accept humility
which offers me gentility.
.............................
9/3/2019
Overcoming Mistakes
Contest of Chantelle Anne Cooke
**V**
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v
He is her knight in shining armor in all angles and sight…
He has all the courage to go and ask her hand,
From the woman’s father who’s well-known as a noble man;
Words of humiliations, he swallows them all,
He is a commoner but his love for her is so true and pure.
Despite their opprobrium, he keeps fighting for his great love,
In a humble way, he begs for her parents’ blessings
knocking their wooden heart;
Bowing before her father… he implores…
Making faithful promises to keep forevermore.
His heart of gold and few hectares of land
enough dowries he can give,
all for his dearest one.
For she’s their only daughter,
their lovely princess
very precious,
and so pretty-she really is.
The suitor’s words are passionate, fervent and firm,
The man is so adamant, he still refuses him,
His words continue…spewing cogent powers…
Finally melts her mother’s heart---
His struggles to win her and be both blessed will soon be over,
He’ll surely conquer for his love is so great proven to last forever.
Sept. 17, 2013 9.25 pm
©2013by Leonora Galinta
First Place
Contest: Epic Only
Judged: 9/24/2013
Sponsor: Greatest Poet PD
Ninth Place
Contest: In Honor of Painter Charles Haigh Wood & His Painting
Judged: 10/1/2013
Sponsor: Poet Isaiah Zerbst
Triumph of God’s love* gripped me amidst apathy’s attack
Reigning over guilt, it loosened my distress-burdened back
Incredibly conquering my heart with peace-pardon pack…
Upon His mercy’s throne, He offered me His grace of no lack
Meeting so divine when I trusted Him along faith-track
Propped by His great compassion, I received His blessings’ sack
Held in His kindness, I’ll lead others toward His love’s knack!
*1John 4:9 In this was manifested the love of God toward us, because that God sent his only begotten Son into the world, that we might live through him.
Acrostic and Monorhyme
August 25, 2018
Edited on May 15, 2020
Bouncing up with gratitude
my heart leaps midst jubilant beat
rising to praise God* for His blessings
overtaking me this New Year.
Propelled by the Holy Ghost
my faith strides steadfastly
ascending along trust’s push
to triumph midst obstacles.
Advancing the Saviour’s kingdom
my spirit promotes righteousness
surmounting hatred with His forgiveness
gripped by love’s transforming drive.
Plunging in prayer to overcome gripping selfishness
my soul serves the Lord with His might
reaching-out to others in compassion
lifting the needy, propped by care’s zest.
Vanquishing skeptic doubts
my mind hurls negative thoughts
to prevail through Scriptures’ assurance
and zoom toward worship bliss.
Empowered by Christ Who leads
my life accelerates in His control
since He upholds me by His grace
hoisting me from sin-downfall.
*Psalm 86:12 I will praise thee, O Lord my God, with all my heart: and I will glorify thy name for evermore.
January 3, 2020
Honorable Mention, "Jump" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Sheri Fresonke Harper; judged on 1/24/2020.
Sitting in the waiting room in pre-op,
weight and height taken,
filling out a two-page form,
your hand trembling with age.
A history of a long life,
the body betraying the best years—
the Golden Years, where time moves slower.
The neck that needs physio,
the knee throbbing after hours on your feet,
the heart beating in time
with the new pacemaker,
its battery promising at least ten more years.
Thankful for technology,
we get to hold hands another day.
The myriad aches and pains,
a fleeting smile—
the young man with a full head of hair
and a light step,
looking back at me.
Forty years of a good life,
not wanting to see it end.
Together, hand in hand,
we will triumph.
Because each second, each minute, each hour,
each day we have together
is a reminder—
of the life we’ve built,
of the love mirrored in our eyes.
What a wonderful reminder
of the simple things in life,
as we sit together,
with hope.
The Monsters Come
Every morn, the monsters come.
They come to attack my day.
Every morn it’s the same,
and every day, they strive away.
The skeletons from closets scream,
while vampires claw from crypts.
They draw and draw until I am spent.
Every day they come. The Monsters come.
Ghosts of words unsaid,
and desires of demons ripping.
Wraiths of past things done;
chasing my peace away.
Giants stomping out hopes and dreams;
while spewing fear, doubt and shame.
The Worm digs and burns through;
everything. They destroy the day.
The darkness hangs like a cloud.
It smothers my hopes today.
I need coffee, and some light,
to stand tall, and live loud.
Let’s drive the monsters away.
chrisbunton.blogspot.com
Into my general path with a low voice.
Included are profound love and rejoice.
There will certainly be no lyrical illusion.
Simply a breathtaking, supple inclusion.
In the same vein as a delectable sweet.
She brings joy and a soft, cherished beet.
This involvement encapsulates her well.
In the bliss of my life or in a crystal shell,
The lightness of the wreath is uncanny.
Gently pulling into every nook and cranny
The depth of the loyalty is beyond compare.
An immensely worthless treasure, and rare.
Her compassionate and kindhearted nature
It calms my heart turmoil and mind retainer.
Love that cannot be evaluated or measured.
That filled my soul with all that I treasured.
To have her in my life is a tremendous gift.
Is this love flawless, or is his barb less swift?
Her dulcet apathy, sparkling as stars above,
My lovely addiction, my unconditional love.
Written: June 08, 2023
In an era long since passed, an Oriental carpet adorning the
floor from far off lands seems to object to the
leopard skin beneath a fair maiden’s feet, yet this English lass
seems oblivious as she stares blankly at the floor
in deep contemplation of her sweetheart and suitor
standing a respectable distance from her
with his top hat humbly held in his hand.
His countenance is one of uncertainty, quite ready to
plead his veracity and intention should her father care
to honor his sincerity with an understanding ear.
He feels a bit consumed and cold standing near
the grandeur of the unlit hearth.
He is attired in his finest to court his fair maiden though
little notice is taken from her stern yet loving father who only
wants to see his daughter marry into a dignified and wealthy
family that will elevate his own standing in the community.
The young maiden’s mother is trying to sway her husband’s
judgment in favor of the young man to appease
her daughter’s romantic affections.
The young maiden’s mother, dressed in an exquisite expensive
pale pink ensemble makes a stunning statement of breeding
and manners as she softly coaxes the kinder side of her husband
to appear by placing both hands lovingly upon his breast.
Her father’s clenched fist reveals his determination not to give in.
The lovely maiden spent hours readying herself for this special
occasion, the day in which her young man would come to ask
her father for her hand in marriage. She had been trying to calm
herself by embroidering his initials on a dresser scarf until
her young man arrived, as evidenced by her sewing container opened
partly as she hurriedly placed the scarf back in when he arrived.
Now listening to her father’s words of rejection she holds little hope
of a future with her beloved and contemplates her life without him.
Yet as her mother pleads her case for them to be together she knows
there is very little her mother asks of him he can say no to.
BLACK: A TRIUMPH WITHOUT FEAR
Black is beautiful but being black: somewhat painful...
Teased and excluded by a state of mind from some fools
Tattered roads are the ways our forefathers trod
as before, skin color other than white isn't cool.
Black for some is a sewn gown that women adore
yet years ago black is the hue, some people deplore
for being black is a ladder near to slavery claws
though hearts- wells of white, still some abhors.
Cotton fields and tobacco leaves these where the work
though toiling good and crops aplenty, still no spark
instead, weeps and wails, the constant gleaming prize.
Black history is a staggering race to hit a mark.
Our forefathers one shout: "Let freedom ring"!
It is the longing ardor, we ever want to sing
Even if there are threats to push Black people down
still, we'll follow the fight of Martin Luther King
Black history is a legacy of winning without fear
a chronicle that ebb 'til today, it never disappears,
'cause racism a changeless present story of you and me,
all around the Earth, not dormant in the atmosphere
__________________________________________________________
Sponsor: Verlena S. Walker
Contest Name: Writings in a Black Perspective.
Placed 1st
© O. E. Guillermo
7:40 pm, March 16, 2015
A minor setback
Can either bury your dreams
Or bring light to them
The drum is sounding
From Queens in New York
Stretching to the horns of America
And the horns of Africa
Hear them applause
They call it the Trump drum of triumph
I sat on my chair of reeds
And looked towards north America
O, Horns of America!
Send your messengers across the pacific and be specific
Send waves of excitement for the Republican
U.S President elect---who entranced the long serving mother
The mother of United States who has done enough for the U.S
To stand on HER feet
Tell the world what a drum it is
Should it be a drum of war!
The trump drum of triumph
Is offbeat
Those are tourists at Las Vegas
Watching the Trump towers
Fathoming the towers would reform into a gold mine
A precious gold mine to America and the world
The Americas and the world at large in awe
But agape with an intriguing question
Will the Trump drum of triumph not sell America to the world?
Either, will it not sell the world to America?
Now that Trump needn’t a salary?
Does he have a business plan in his palace behind his unproved humility?
America wonders---the world looks on---hat trick or not!
Let the white house and the black house both keenly watch
The start of this political game
Should he meddle in his belly and ignore America and the world?
The Trump drum of triumph
Is offbeat
What is his say on gay-ism and lesbianism?
Where Barrack Obama was offbeat-ism
The practice that is against God-ism
Which spoils ten thousand American children daily-ism
A man kissing a man-ism
A woman kissing a woman-ism
Abominable act in the world traditional society-ism
How about Illuminati, the god worshipers that are barriers between God and mankind-ism?
Consult Trump’s priest-ism
To burn down all the shrines of Baphomet in Americas-ism
And the National church of bey where our men become unproductive-ism
By sacrificing their manhood-ism
They become infertile for life-ism
Heal the world again dear Trump-ism
Make my county South Sudan a country again-ism
And refrain from God’s wrath-ism
Only then will the Trump drum of triumph-ism
Not be offbeat-ism
No
Succumb
To adverse
Events that teach
To be more wise and selective in life
Example For Victim Or Victor Contest
September 10, 2016
At last, by night, that tarries late,
they hurry home, to Father's rage,
without a chance to plot their way.
The floodgates fail, as the young miss cries.
A handsome lad, pleads with his eyes,
while telling tales, of how and why
their carriage failed, with strokes of luck
which stuck them on the muddy trail
This fate that the chokes the airless room,
has clouded starlight in their eyes,
and fills the mood with doubts and gloom.
~
An angry Father, waiting long,
behind a frown, as sun goes down
then, with the rise, of devil's moon,
he hears the drum of horses hoofs,
that come at last, and none too soon!...
He had watched the clock count off the hours,
with endless pacing, of the floors.
While mother, fair, and worrisome,
in wilt despair, will hold him now,
to keep his anger in control.
She wrings her hands, and silently
prays her sweet lass, innocently,
was not delayed by guiles of love,
which meant no harm. But with such charms,
was this suitor captive of her smile?
Or were they then so swept away,
by winsome songs, and star's display,
by all love's wiles, and moonlight rays?
Young damsel, fair, who stole the hour
is left a flower, quite untouched
but as a suitor now he must
declare his honor and his hand
'Tis that.....
of which they will demand !
____________________________________________________________
For the Contest Inspired by the painting of Charles Haigh Wood
Sponsored by Isaiah Zerbst
9/19/13
Love is blind in the most peculiar way
Since some cannot see the obvious in front of them
And they often stay.
Or the anguish of a torn soul; existing in a shell
Beat down to the core, though most couldn’t tell.
The invisible shards of a heart, where love use to grow
Where fantasy took plight and then reality started to show.
But…….....
There were always more layers, than what was in sight
An evolution of a spirit, that is now free to take flight.
Soaring through the skies of life and knowing who they are
No more stories of lies or deceit; instead the healing of a scar.
Misfortunes disappear, like a slate wiped clean
New beginnings and happiness which are now sewn back at the seams.
A tragedy gone and a triumph has prevailed,
A start to recovery and with it a new story to tell.