Best Trumpet Poems
Where will you be when the trumpet sounds
When the call comes with an
amazing surprise
A shout is heard by all who leave
these grounds
And all the dead and alive in Christ
shall arise
How will you explain; none of the missing is found
While Satan bombards the media with
his lies
Millions disappear as an army calls up
the hounds
Gone with no trace of any, as hearts in agony cries
Graves are open, cribs are empty, the trumpet sounds
Delusions, signs, and wonders as the evil one abides
Deception is real in all as this
darkness abounds
While behind the scenes, This world in
sin resides
What will you be doing when the
trumpet sounds
One of two in the fields is taken up beyond the skies
The other is left behind, in fear an empty heart pounds
To meet the Lord in the air as the Bible
so describes
All believers united with praise as
heaven resounds
The judgment of God on this earth will truly abide
In tribulation to all clothed with the unbeliever's gown
Their destination set: in their sins they
chose to hide
To this end, eternal fire in hell to be
cast down
When the trumpet sounds, all in Christ
will arise
To meet the Lord in the air, Wearing redemptions gown
For faith in Christ is gifted with the everlasting prize
Eternal life: in heaven we shall forever
be found
When the trumpet sounds?
Poetry to me is my legacy
Poems I write to live on endlessly
So like it or lump it
I’ll blow my own trumpet
And leave them to historic supremacy.
The trumpet will play
a sweet prelude, to earth's last tired breath
but Gabriel shall not call me
I shall leave long before his dance of death
The distant drums are what I hear playing
across the sea and through the storm
a calm rumbling surrender
like the two kings that went before
If I could just lay down in my killer's blood
then I may see hope for what it is
Revenge sometimes loses out to cowardice
the weak of heart are tricked to feel dismissed
Long ago when we were so green
we wished away the day
not realizing we were the lucky ones
like sand in hands all seeped away
Yet these things all come to an end
even for them who ignore the faintly call
or those who wait around, joining one of many
who fear the first melody of the horn
Then it's too late and dance you shall
to the rhythm of panic and real fright
you've prayed for the first and last time
yet you still succumb to the light
A world sat wrapped in blue, while red takes rest
oh how it once could save you
One card staining black the entire deck
just carry on, try to play through
It means nothing now or when you wish
for the sun to shine like it did before
Burn and press, never rest
confusing the remedy with the cure
Mountain laurel perfume wafted in the soft breeze.
Myriads of flittering birds sang in the trees.
At peace on our cabin porch with feet on the rail
Until a trumpet blast called me to hit the trail.
When at last would come my soldier’s release
To return to our laurels, birds, and peace?
With the martial trumpet silent once more,
All survivors returned to their home shore.
Would I limp stiff legged down the last mile,
To laurels, and birds, and your peaceful smile?
Alas, but a dream that came not to pass.
My future lay beneath the clover grass.
Wrapped in red, white, and blue came my release,
To scentless laurels, silent birds and wailing peace.
My heart is the same full of love
My house that shelters it full of pain
But it's autumn in my life, Dove
The hair of gray and wrinkles reign
I set the table full of food
For the family to dine fun times
But it is autumn in my life
When changes prepare for winter
I'm not sure I'll know winter now
For I have not experienced it
But it's autumn in my life somehow
Where beauty glows bright from the depths
Producing leaves of many hues
Love the autumn of my life, Dove
Now all that's left winter's white snow
I think that when winter comes cold
Plants freeze if left out in weather
They will need a warmer place inside
But since it is just autumn now
There's time to prepare room somehow
I still watch the birds from window
They have not all gone away love
But it's autumn in my life now
Soon most will be gone for winter
Winter soon will approach with cold
Seemingly death of the roses
But it's autumn in my life my bold
There are few thoughts of approaching winter
But when winter comes my way
The body rest to rise another spring
Now it's autumn in my life this day
On another day I'll be called by trumpet away
Sun scatters splendid splendors in utter silence
Flowers shed their pure fragrance without any aim
Never once they never trumpet their excellence
Real wisdom, real merits acquires great fame.
The moon maps her magic hue in silent midnight
Wind swept in melodious tone scenting surprise
Ever did they ever boost their mettlesome might?
Never fool can ever shine bruiting his own praise.
My people
if only you would see
the beauty in you
if for an instant
feel all the emotions
of the buried love deep inside you
Such a glorious day would burgeon forth
released from all the human anthem
would lift the world
to the heavens
If only you would see
as you were made and meant to be
and from the mires and pits
open the gates
to be released
If you could but comprehend
your potential
AH the world would ring resounding
in such joyous unison
would raise up
all that it is
in grateful salutation
My people
if you would but believe
in you
A shinning future
upon this pedestal of earth would rest
in final liberation
this recognition in tender mercifulness
would come
and all tears be wept in compassion
This is you
my people
Too long all your resilience
given to the struggle
too long shoveled into survival
AH my people, awake
for there is more courage
more fortitude
and more love inside you
than you ever dreamed possible
Awake my people
awake.
Heather in a garden
Or heather in a store
Flowers beg a pardon,
Lovely forever more.
Vines climb up a wall,
Effortlessly tall
Vines climb up a gate,
Chopping is their fate.
Flowers and vines,
‘til the end of times.
Together forever
Trumpets and heather.
A silent trumpet signals reveille’s call
Shadows play liars poker
Amid the stone
Sunshine tiptoes past
The grey mourners
Forgotten flags
Offer a tattered role call
A sad wind stiffens in salute
As a silenced trumpet weeps
orange trumpets call
from the insatiable green –
fanfares of summer
JJust an old trumpet player with a worn out horn –
Seems he had played it ever since he was born.
Sometimes his lively music put dancing in your feet.
Then there were times he rendered tones so tranquil and so sweet.
So many came to follow this magic little man
That soon he was known as the best in music land.
He drew the best unto him and formed a little band
And added perfect talent to the world of Dixieland.
Sometimes he would sing a little verse or two
And he would make it sound like it was just for you.
He was known the whole world over - heaven watched him too
And his music was so soulful it could sometimes make you blue.
In his life we witnessed greatness only artists can provide
And even heaven’s angels cried the day sweet Louis died.
Some say even Gabriel didn’t know how to behave
The day we put old ‘Satchmo’ in his grave.
So, gentle trumpet man, may you always rest in peace
We recall an instant, when you left us, all the music ceased.
Written by John Posey
9/11/14
Constructed of the finest brass,
polished daily with silken manes of angels,
to gleam brightest of all creation.
For the sun is but a reflection of the light of the Lord
beaming off my bell.
The stars; sparks thrown of forging hammers,
wielded by elders of the host,
while shaping me into being.
Each night, swaddled in plush clouds,
cherubs lay me away to the darkest recesses of the universe.
Still lingering reflection, that is the moon.
When Gabriel cradles me in his powerful, ancient hands
and lifts me to his angelic lips,
forcing through me breath of the whole of the four winds,
all of existence will give pause.
Exalted above all heavenly instruments, I,
the trumpet of trumpets
will on this glorious day for which I was forever groomed,
proudly announce the return of
The King of Kings.
Sounding forth as voice of the All Mighty,
I will joyfully call together the righteous to the throne;
neer to be heard again.
When Gabriel sounds the trumpet
There'll be no time for crumpets
You'll stand and wait
At the Pearly Gate
But you won't be able to jump it
There stands a great prince
with a trumpet loud and pure
which fills the heavens
Majestic music
warm and rich that pleases God
a sound all will hear
Roar of great power
the volume and resonance
heard thousands of miles
For we shall be changed
a scream heard by all sea shores
the dead shall arise
Wise shall hear the sound
many shall shine bright as stars
some will cry out loud
The transformation
sounds of perfect harmony
the trumpet of God
Edward J Ebbs - 10/29/11
Written for Contest, >>> SOUND MADNESS
we shall not perish
but be changed in a heartbeat -
it is his promise
__________________________
September 20, 2012
Poetry/Senryu/the last trumpet
Copyright Protected, ID 09-422-248-20
All Rights Reserved, 2012, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, Single Senryu
sponsor, Black Eyed Susan, Judged 10/01/2012
Second Place