Best Unrolled Poems
Where hazel bushes mix with sturdy oaks
and beech trees densely grow in shades of green
the fairy flowers come in early spring
attired in clothes of violet-blue sheen.
The swathes of bluebells, like a sheet unrolled
before our eyes, breathtaking to behold!
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This stanza is a Sexain or Sestet.
Contest: One Stanza
Sponsor: Broken Wings
Placed 4th
© 14th July 2016
Categories:
unrolled, flower, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
hopeful plans unrolled
dawn awaits ~
the new you debut
July 3, 2019
Magicicada13 Words To Live By Poetry Contest
Maureen McGreavy, Sponsor
Categories:
unrolled, courage, hope, morning,
Form:
Carpe Diem
Where are you, Spring?
Nor'westerly, with icy blade it carves
through puny shields of woolly hats and scarves
gives brief respite, then pierces yet again,
brings tears to eyes of happiest of men,
umbrellas inside out, their holders curse
no pity, winter laughs and does it's worst,
where are you?
Where are you, Spring?
Your many coloured blanket still unrolled
we gaze at barren lawns with colours cold.
Snowdrops like bullets pepper fields and lanes,
your daffodils and gifts of daisy chains,
heads lift and petals spread in early light
short days and longer nights fade from our sight,
where are you?
Where are you, Spring?
Your subtle kiss, your silent call to arms
to regiments of bulbs and seeds on farms
and sleeping creatures, heartbeats soft and slow
that warm in chorus with the melting snow
to crawl with blinking eyes from 'neath the earth
and celebrate with us your next rebirth.
Where are you?
Categories:
unrolled, spring,
Form:
Couplet
I left my home, the world to roam
it’s been now twelve years gone.
From a boy to a man
was a dreadful short span,
as I journeyed to valleys beyond.
Now the king, he has spoken
and battle has broken,
I’m wise to the ways of the world.
Long on the sword,
as we seek our reward,
to see our flag unfurled…
Sailed by starry dark of night,
our longships cross the sea.
Where a hundred headless horsemen
guard the gates of Galilee.
Each dawn’s a daily dance of death,
through battle smoke like dragon’s breath.
With echo axe to armor chink,
each onslaught we rebuffed.
You can invite the devil for a drink
…if you think you’re man enough.
Heavy’s the head that wears the crown,
when the blood of brothers’ beckons.
Weak is the sword, as it lies on the ground.
If there’s a will, there’s a way,
there are weapons.
But once the battle has ended
and our journeys’ been made,
there’ll be air in my lungs,
and blood on my blade.
As was foretold, our flag was unrolled
in the past… now once again!
Vikings prevail, each time we sail,
in the age of wooden ships
… and iron men.
Copyright © 2018
Categories:
unrolled, conflict, courage, hero, men,
Form:
Rhyme
Poems from old and yellowed
Chinese scrolls make me sad,
make me sad: stored in shiny,
lacquered boxes of perfumed teak,
they crumble when unrolled.
And the hands that must have written
Chinese thoughts upon the rolls:
little, leathern, patient hands,
painting poems -- stroke and stroke
and careful, delicate stroke --
stopping, meanwhile, to twirl
a waxed mustache --
for someone else, a foreigner,
who cannot understand, to read,
mull over, and be sad.
And this when Chinese thoughts
are gone, and tiny, trembling
Chinese hands are dust.
Categories:
unrolled, allegory, art, imagination, introspection,
Form:
Narrative
I can remember it like it was yesterday.....
Listening to a hard rock "all-night" radio station,
boppin' back from college to my hometown in the middle
of the night, on an endless two-lane highway, in the middle of nowhere.
Up around the curve, my headlights engulfed a scene I'll never forget.......
What looked like three or four cars (to this day I'm not sure) smashed, crumpled
and twisted in burning smoke, completely blocking the road.....
Slamming on my brakes, I skidded to a stop, trying to process what I was witnessing,
I pulled up a few feet closer in my car and unrolled my window....
Burnt shredded metal filled my nostrils with the scent of death, and not a sound......
The silence terrified me...... I started to get out of my car........
Then, from the bowels of the horror, a voice whispered to me "don't stop! go for help"
Numb, I got back in my car..... that's when the wreck of cars parted, and a path was created
to pass through! I drove to the next exit and had the clerk call 911, giving them
directions to
the crash......I drove on into the night, fumbling for a radio station.
_____________________________
Categories:
unrolled, faith
Form:
Narrative
to my son, Tito
A handful of sand in the angel's palm,
how often you strummed and sifted the metaphor
of Long Beach (since you were four and rolled
and unrolled and jotted down the specks of time
as if you knew what was behind the flimsy skies
that threw your quantum song asunder).
Categories:
unrolled, absence, angel, appreciation, bereavement,
Form:
Elegy
Not till the loom was silent
And the shuttle ceased to fly
When history unrolled the scroll
And reveals the reason why.
The darkest thread as needful
In the weavers skilful hand
As the cloth of gold and silver
Of an industrious ruin greed had planned.
No amount of corporate education
Could quell our simple brain
No grammar association
Yet unravelled the master’s pain.
They took away our ambition
Off shore was their devious plan
Tried so hard to pick our pockets
Yet our skill could clothe a man.
His call was for cheap labour
Some call it slavery
Now we buy at a thousand per cent
The product of knavery!
First eight lines adapted from anon poem, The Weaver, speculation wrote, by a weaver in/from Colne, Lancs England last Century, wrote originally for/in a religious format,
My version, here. Political.
© Harry J Horsman 2015
Categories:
unrolled, betrayal, work,
Form:
Quatrain
If it is off, I must turn it on.
If it is on, I must turn it off.
If it is folded, I must unfold it.
If it is a liquid, it must be shaken, then spilled.
If it a solid, it must be crumbled, chewed, stepped on or smeared.
If it is high, it must be reached.
If it is shelved, it must be unshelved.
If it is pointed, it must be run with at top speed.
If it has leaves, they must be picked.
If it is plugged, it must be unplugged.
If it is not trash, it must be thrown away.
If it is in the trash, it must be removed, inspected, and thrown on the floor.
If it is closed, it must be opened.
If it does not open, it must be screamed at.
If it has drawers, they must be rifled.
If it is a pencil, it must write on the refrigerator, monitor, or table.
If it is full, it will be more interesting emptied.
If it is empty, it will be more interesting full.
If it is a pile of dirt, it must be laid upon.
If it is stroller, it must under no circumstances be ridden in without protest. It must be pushed by me instead.
If it has a flat surface, it must be banged upon.
If Mommy's hands are full, I must be carried.
If Mommy is in a hurry and wants to carry me, I must walk alone.
If it is paper, it must be torn.
If it has buttons, they must be pressed.
If the volume is low, it must go high.
If it is toilet paper, it must be unrolled on the floor.
If it is a drawer, it must be pulled upon.
If it is a toothbrush, it must be inserted into my mouth.
If it has a faucet, it must be turned on at full force.
If it is a phone, I must talk to it.
If it is a bug, it must be swallowed.
If it doesn't stay on my spoon, it must be dropped on the floor.
If it is not food, it must be tasted.
If it IS food, it must not be tasted.
If it is dry, it must be made wet with drool, milk, or toilet water.
If it is a car seat, it must be protested with arched back.
If it is Mommy, must make her dirty
If it is sibling, must slap,kick,and fight.
If it has four legs, must squeeze tight until makes noise
If big person is on phone, must make lots of noise
If tv is not on cartoons, scream until they are
If food is not good, throw it, refuse to eat it and cry until big people give you something good
Categories:
unrolled, caregiving, childhood, daughter, education,
Form:
List
Now that the Owl was sleeping Dumpty felt a bit restless, which was hardly surprising considering he was a ghost, he wandered over again to the waters edge, and had a look at the large flagon that the cat had clung onto...it was really big' with a couple of handles
near the neck, he peered close at it, there was a piece of paper inside, he wondered what it might say, he went in and unrolled it, it seemed to be all about someone 'escaping from it all' it was signed Joe Maverick..Bermuda ‘hmmm now where had I heard the name before?’ he thought ‘Oh never matter..' it was not going to help his quest in the slightest it seemed. “I shall go
and look through mails and comments maybe there have been attempts to kill off other nursery rhyme or story book characters? One thing is sure, I shall never give up till I get revenge” he
thought to himself, some it seemed out there wanted bad things too happen as it were, well it looked like they were going to get their wish, by the time he was finished they would be getting egg all over their face so to speak (bad egg)....!
©JOE MAVERICK 1-3-2014
Categories:
unrolled, anti bullying,
Form:
Narrative
E ach pebbled path awaits the fall mum without momentum
L anguishing until the fall of foot brings them a pace.
A ll static objects seek the joy, the soulful strum
T hat gives to some and uncommon sense of face
I dling not within the static shell, the unnoticed place.
O nly movement brings the eye, the heart to hold, the rise
N o stone unrolled can bring an accolade to such as I.
* End rhyme pattern of rhyme royal
Categories:
unrolled, analogy, introspection, mum,
Form:
Acrostic
There's a story id like to tell,
about a strong and brave marine,
a man to be called a true hero,
for all hes been through and seen.
You see this marine was far from home,
serving his country, and fighting with pride,
doing a job only a few can do,
with those very few by his side.
One day he set out,
on a mission that's better left untold,
this marine couldn't have seen it coming,
as a series of events unrolled.
This marine was severly wounded,
and now has to live with the scars of war,
but even though he has a long road ahead,
he'll always remember what he was fighting for.
In honor of this marine,
who did more than his part,
we salute, and thank you,
with the purple heart.
Categories:
unrolled, dedication, inspirational, life, thank
Form:
Rhyme
Desire sometimes to go back to my engineering college days,
Desire sometimes to go back to my junior college days,
Desire sometimes to go back to my school days,
Desire sometimes to go back to my junior childhood days,
But......
Damn I Desire to go back into the precious place..My MOTHER'S WOMB..
It is the only SAFE PLACE left..No other dare to touch..
P.s. The mindset of hopeless creatures sucks.. Don't know when the looped laws gets unrolled?
Categories:
unrolled, birthday, creation, desire, destiny,
Form:
Classicism
He wallowed in the dirt
With the sand and the muck
Saying brother can you spare a buck?
He say I ain't got the time
Well how 'bout a dime?
Denied
Beggars sigh
As the cars passed by
My oh my
Please help
I'm down on my luck
I lack even a buck
And I don't know why
And then.suddenly,
It was beggars dream
And I got me a $20
Man say spend it wisely
And so I bought me a beer
Then I bought me a forty
And by the end of the night
could not walk upright
Left to stumble around
On flat ground
Incapacitated, world spinng round me
Unrolled my pack
Fell asleep,
On the side of the street
Let it rain on me
Woke up
Where the F$$K is the rest of my money?
Got outta that city
Repeat
Categories:
unrolled, addiction, anxiety, assonance, cool,
Form:
ABC
I sat by a moonlit window last night
As sleep did not come- elusive as the Dugong-
My eyes but portal gazing wide into a deep vast sea.
The songbirds were hushed except for the nightjars and owls.
A dreary blackness was unrolled across the sky,
And moonbeams brimmed over into the room.
My mind set adrift to gloom and droll dreams
In those wee hours of morn. I spoke to ancestors
(if only in my mind) for they lived in simpler and perhaps wiser times.
I thought how I envied them in a way,
Though not really, as their bones lie dusty in
Rustic vessels, traveling further back with each passing day.
Their lips sealed mum, as still as the stars, and cold as winter's teeth,
Yet resting above in glory cradles, numb to the tangles that
Plague this old and somber world.
I wondered what they would think of the present day,
Which oft embraces adverse and complex things,
That would perplex the keen-witted, scholars of yesteryear,
And make the grave of Einstein sway.
If those dear, timeworn relics traversed from
Chivalrous and austere ages into the rages of this world,
Where knowledge weaves through webs of microchip swirls.
And people sail into streams of mouse-clicking dreams...
Could you then, oh sweet vestiges of ancient yellow bones,
Slumber on in quiet, mellow solace beneath your
Inscripted bloodstones, and romance the
Advancement of present times?
Would you imagine these machines as
Sleek schooners slicing through the midnight blue,
Chartering primitive lands? Or rather dreadnaughts
Waiting to wager warfare against the inculpable innocence of
Youth, or the ignorance of man? Would you quiver and quake
at the malice of mankind and perhaps find a better road to take?
I wonder now, as I sit with the moon so bright, and listen to
the stillness quietly hushing this sultry, sleepless night.
Categories:
unrolled, change, dark, destiny, introspection,
Form:
Free verse