Best Triumphed Poems
Dawn slowly awakened to supplant the moon
Empty, the canopy where stars had been strewn
In repose, Luna slept after wandering velvet skies
and spider webs shimmered in the flight of sunrise
Dew drops evaporated upon the fragrant tuberose
as a playful breeze billowed my sheer nightclothes
Seagulls swooped and scurried along amber shores
A salty crew grappled with the sea on labored oars
Muscles pulled in rhythmic chorus, as if in lyrical rote
as surging waves rocked the hull of their fishing boat
They surpassed each crest and triumphed over swells
The sun's prisms painted the horizon in muted pastels
Inspired by the milieu of ruffled swirls across the sea
sunlight dappled over its surface in sequenced litany
I sipped a second cup as thoughts were being seeded
Poetry spawned inside of me; a birthing to be heeded
For as driftwood hastens down rapids to a new frontier
I needed to ledger my verses, ere they hie to disappear
August 13, 2022
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 12 Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney
We loved the land
We tilled the earth, under sun we toiled
We pledged our souls, to nature’s whim
The King of France none to pleased
We took the sacraments
We held our faith, mournful to fates embrace
The British demanded a new oath we take
And scalped we were, both sides did partake
Our villages burned, our fields afire
Our woman and children, in hunger perished
We feared Monckton, a hunter of death
And from him, to ships hold, deported at best
We preyed to Canada, to lend us a hand
Evangeline an angel of our land
The darkened forests, to where we fled
Became bloody in battles, and turned to red
For Redcoats wandered in search of scalps
As Father Le Loutre preached unheavenly deeds
He was bloodthirsty and in skirmishes his evil flourished
His Mikmaq warriors helped rivers flow to blood
We lived along the rivers edge
We fought them all, to no one did we pledge
As serfs we served, to whom did rule
In the end, the forest sang our quiet eulogy
The vessels sailed from Halifax
With their human cargo of Partisans
Off to the West Indies, and a new land
Disease triumphed where Lord Laurence failed
And so the voyage, onward went
The traditions of Grand Pre, to Louisiana was lent
And there they settled, peace at last
As angels of their battles, in sacrifice did rest
Written: November 09, 2023
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Meet me at the crossroads of my life.
Underneath the streetlamp, I will be waiting
expecting you to whisk me away,
shivering in the drizzle of coolness
truly trusting you'll truncate my trauma.
Meet me at the crossroads of my life,
need to sense your embrace as I wait
urban sounds drown out opinions of you,
as piercing sirens blare across the silent night,
A purr from a black dog terrifies me.
Meet me at the crossroads of my life,
minutes later, your svelte, seraphic allure shows up.
Seeing your stern sentence, I glance up
We stroll as one, holding hands,
in the abyss as nobody yet triumphed.
Is it the blaze that ignites the soul?
rather than the flame-holding heart?
Is it love that motivates a person?
or the spirit that ignites the fire?
the eye requires the light He created.
I am the nuclear ,the unwanted power,
i pay you according to you care:
for how long have I served you?
Provided you the energy to carry on;
sometimes you even packaged me
and exchanged me for currency;
how many of your wars have i fought?
And when in my might you triumphed
didn't you simply answer superpower?
I am the power behind your wheel,
i keep many of your industries going,
i make your night bright like sunflower
even in your health i play my role.
But in your luxury you forget,
you just forget our agreement
and begin to neglect my care
asking me to go to hell;
you begin to push me to my enemy
as you exposed my nudity to whirlwind
and asked water to deal with me as it liked
you are like a louse that lives on hound,
that thinks he is killing the hound,
where will it live after the death of the hound?
you neglect my care, you expose yourself!
But you are master of propaganda:
for failing to play your role,
what name have you not called me?
You said I am a murderer,came out with statistics
of how many i had killed, you marked me unwanted
and went on streets to shout me down;
you are quick to talk of Fukushima;
man, man ,man,your deceit is legendary,
fire is good servant...now i understand the say.
Yes i know you art,
you know how to call things names,
when you fail at you duty,
you simply say mechanical error;
and when you don't understand people,
you simply call them primitive;
when you don't understand the misery of God,
you simply conclude he does not exist.
No, i am not afraid of your deceit
i am comfortable with who i am
you are the one looking for me
if you still want me,you are welcome,
if you don't want me again
God knows i will not ask for you.
Here's a toast to you America on this glorious Fourth of July!
May the grand old flag, the emblem of our nation, ever wave on high!
As we toast your birthday, may we always keep in mind,
That you're the grandest nation ever established by humankind!
Here's to the stalwart patriots who endured the Revolution,
And to the resolute framers of our precious Constitution!
Here's to all those courageous founders to whom so much is owed,
For creating our cherished liberties that we may remain unbowed!
Here's a toast to 'Honest Abe' who with steadfast resolve,
Triumphed over opposition that a united nation might evolve!
A toast to the pioneers as onward they relentlessly pressed,
To tame your virgin lands in their fearless westward quest!
Here's a toast to every soldier who has served this great nation,
For each has earned the title of 'The Greatest Generation!'
Here's to the common man who with skill and noble aspirations,
Helped you attain the title of 'The Greatest Of All Nations!'
A toast for welcoming to your shores the oppressed and weak.
You are a beacon of hope for this world and for that you are unique!
We honor you America and will hold high the red, white and blue.
Here's a toast to you America! May God's grace ever shine on you!
Robert L. Hinshaw, USAF, CMSgt, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
Giant Goliath never triumphed over young David
That’s instilled in each Bible story reader’s heart, verily avid
Arrogance always meets failure along strong faith’s fight
When trust in God prevails as did David with all his might.
Persistent to vanquish rude behavior
David, with poise, faced the haughty warrior
Then through his empowered sling
Came the killer stone’s great zing
Proving God’s power as most superior.
Thus was shepherd David’s rise to phenomenal fame
Acclaimed Israel’s king* who exalted the Lord’s name…
Yet midst his downfall caused by human nature’s weakness
He still cleaved to God’s love for triumphant blissfulness.
*Acts 13:22 …He (God) raised up unto them David to be their king; to whom also he gave testimony, and said, I have found David the son of Jesse, a man after mine own heart, which shall fulfil all my will.
September 18, 2019
Honorable Mention, "Clerimerick Couplets (Hybrid Form)" Poetry Contest Sponsored by Mark Toney; judged on 9/28/2019.
For them.
To her the word love refers to a boy.
Something she yearns for and misses dearly.
The day they met was cold and fraught with January chill.
“Oh, that does seem so long ago.”
That is the untarnished memory she replays over and over again when events in her life go array.
Back then it was tangible and real, their lives together had not been succumb to so much misery and woe.
They have triumphed, failed, and even caused each other more pain than can be imagined; But through it all they always walked the path together, holding each others hand.
She loves him unconditionally and for that some people cant understand but love needs no excuses, certainly not for them.
She adores him for working so hard, slaving to the man trying to base a future and a plan for them, but she feels guilty that their small American dream over the years has always led down a dead end.
With today’s hard times she knows they are not to blame, but still her idol hands carry burden with them.
A plot of land, a small farm, and a home to call their own so they may grow old.
that’s all the pair desire.
He loves her to, a thought that at times is unfathomable.
He admires her dreams, even if they are bigger than the world and never distills fear in her that they wont one day come true. She thinks ill rationally and believes in things as a child would, but this merely makes him smile at her spontaneous outlook.
To him she is like a wild bee, searching ferociously for something.
At times he doesn’t think she will ever find it, that’s why its so hard to see her cry.
Life hasn’t been fair for them.
It’s a tragic book that just keeps reading on.
But they muscle through living on their dream and knowing that as long as they have each other, everything will be alright.
And as they drive home to their house with no walls, catching glimpses of each other in their ratty car they don’t feel so alone.
Behind those blue eyes, she will be forever nineteen to him and to her, as she gazes into his brown large pupils; the boy she knows has grown into a man and at that moment they know, one day all the sacrifices they have made will pay off.
After I left you alone in the firelight
I wondered if ever I'd see you again
the day of departure loomed on my horizon
the last time I'd ever have time with my friend,
nobody told you to pack allyour heartstrings
to turn off the future you planned in your head,
nobody warned you of incoming missles
imploding within ,turning everything red.
you sit there in silence to gaze at the embers
humming a tune a piano once played
out on a stage surrounded by angels
oblivious maestro ,you ebb and you fade.
but I see that moment you triumphed in Paris,
white doves all released to welcome the one,
who soared on the notes of ultimate beauty
who carried us up to the fire of the sun.
Dear Phoenix I know you must die in your ashes
before your rebirth can ever take place,
but there in the fireglow I still see the flashes
of genius alive in the light of .your face
I often sit and wonder why
People do the things they do
I am thinking of a day ten years ago
When heaven's population grew.
I can remember it like it were yesterday
For when i heard about it I cried
On September 11 2001
So many of our heroes died.
Our country who has gone to the aide of many
Took a terrible hit that day
Our enemies who caught us unaware
Took many of our loved ones away.
We watched these attacks in hopeless horror
And then watched our towers fall
But the love and pride that we each have inside
Made heroes of us all.
On this day ten years ago
When we thought things could not get worse
The devil touched a misguided people
Who delivered to us a curse.
On that day we died, we cried
We confronted the hatred and fear
But regardless of the hatred in this horrible deed
America is still right here.
We triumphed in ways that they never dreamed
Our heroes are all now in heaven
We'll forever stand tall as the greatest country of all
And always remember 9/11.
By Benjamin Macieo Davis
Theprinceofpoetry
September 11. 2011
If I could I would return to a time of knights and kings
Of castles, dungeons, wizards and mystical magical things
I'd see Little John, Will Scarlett, the merry men and Friar Tuck
I'd stay away from the sheriff, I'd rather not push my luck
Robin was a hunted man, but he beckoned at her calls
For Marian he'd risk everything and climb the castle walls
His loyalty to King Richard made his men and he outlaws
They hid in Sherwood Forest, fighting for the cause
The king was in the Third Crusade unaware of the unrest
To become ruler of all England was the sheriff's quest
Through all this two lovers would light the evening sky
For Marian he lived and for Marian he'd die
A romance for the ages, A love that would never die
A love for all eternity to make the angels sigh
For King Richard his loyalty, for Marian his heart
To save the crown and England, Robin played his part
Richard returned to England to claim his royal crown
Robin triumphed in Nottingham bringing the sheriff down
There was peace and happiness all throughout the land
Robin knelt upon one knee to take his maiden's hand.
Robin Hood and Maid Marian.
End of Days
By Edmund Siejka
Pondering the value of life
He formulates a riddle
What is better than God?
Poor people have it
Rich people don’t have it
And if you eat it you will die?
The answer to his riddle is: Nothing.
Looking up
He notices a pale, glowing light
Clouds reverberating with music
Feeling movement
Chest about to explode
He is lifted above the turbulence
Faster and faster he travels
Across a gray pallid sky.
Reciting a prayer
The old words reassure him
He who never prayed before
Peering through a tiny clearing in the clouds
He is struck by the enormity of what lies below
Of what he is leaving behind
He feels himself giving way
His body changing
In shape and size
Feeling a calmness to the very end
Uncertain of what is to come
He now realizes
That his crowded little life
Is coming to an end
And the only thing he can think of
Are the stories his mother
Told him
Stories of how people always triumphed over evil
And the endings were always good.
Turning off the light
She would lean over him
Gently kissing him
On his forehead
As he lay still
Not moving
Not afraid
Sleeping the long sleep
Of an innocent babe.
Why is there fog, thick with grim
from the breath of pursed lips
that blemishes the view
distorting the glass?....I ask you
Is there a peaceful place for the soul?
I stand by the window and peer through the blinds
The wind whips trees and muddles the mind
something sails through the dark with a thump I can hear
leers up at me with hopeless blind-sight,.. and tends once again
to instill me with fear
A tendril of grass from the devil's own hand
snakes its way up the porch
beyond the first step
And there….lies intrusion
an anthill away, ..it comes every day
to dim all the light …… no peace for the soul, blood red ever flows
There is always a grim taste of nightmarish reality,
It is not an illusion
a voice too inhuman….it reeks of the devil
not a game to be played
I can't hide like an ostrich…..but maybe I should
Deceit mixed with truth, only death in pursuit
Which has now been cloven by the worst of mankind
Now waits on the stoop
Rumpled and bound for the weary to find
Have I triumphed from fear
when I open the door
A slit to peek out,
take what lies at my feet?
What is black, what is white
what is read, bloody red
bringing dread, bringing grief
No solace, relief
Am I weak, without will, a moth drawn to the flame?
What is sane? What is real?
Where is peace for the soul?
There is death at my door
Always more, always more
…..where, Oh dear Lord, is there peace for the soul?
__________________________________________________________
9/14/16
Scare Me Good Poetry Contest
We have come
to the
season of Purim
We'll celebrate how
the Jewish people
defeated Haman
their bitter foe
How we once again
survived
as we have
so many times before
and after
this victory
The God of Israel
came to our aid
once again
We will feast tonight
on wine
and hamantashen
take joy
where we find it
Take joy in another sacred day
which marks the continuance
of the Jewish people
Do not fear
We have triumphed
in the past
We will again
Modern day Hamans
take note
We are not weak
but strong!
As I put pen to paper
I remember the Purim carnivals of my
youth
We will be able to capture these
childhood memories
and feel once again the
joys we once knew
HAMAN WAS DEFEATAED!
Once existed an indian
Tribe from Algonquian
Linguistic stock.
Warlike in nature:power
Of the colonists were
Curtailed.
The hammer of God,
Fearless,death looms
Wherever they tread.
Fierce-looking on horse-
Backs-the foreign
Shackles of slavery,they
Broke.
Slaves from other tribes
They made.
An ally of the English,
They triumphed over the
French.
The only shinning star in
The region,this dreaded
Tribe its identity it lost:the
Death of their fallen
Leader-the last of the
Mohicans,was the demise
Of a new birth.
Written January 1, 2014
I'm just passing through
This tumbleweed town
Wondering why anyone would
Bother to stay around
When the truths that are spoken
By our mothers and fathers
Are lies told to quiet our fears
To quench the thirst
Of a man counting his years
So today is the day
When I'll be laid to waste
Buried beneath this cold dry sand
Where my father once made me the man that I am
So go tell the angel of death
He can have all that's left
I've nothing to fear in this world
Tell my wife and my child
Not to go and get riled
Up over an old useless man
With a feather in my cap and a gun in my hand
Whistling tunes of my favorite band
Now it's just me and Death
Whispering under our breaths
Shouting high to the mountains
And cursing regrets
Who will be the first
One to draw out his gun
But no matter the end that we meet
One's labeled a coward
And the other is knocked off his feet
It looks as if death has triumphed in jest
Believers and sinners have come to pay their respects
So Death please just leave them be
Crying beneath this Joshua tree