Best Valorous Poems
The child stands valorous before the door
With nary a tinge of fear or dread.
Armed with a spatula and a pancake flipper...
She wears a stewing pot on her head.
Her hands are protected by leather gloves
With her Father's boots to guard her feet.
Her swimming goggles are securely placed
And beneath her shirt... a cookie sheet.
With a determined sigh she cracks the door
And peers suspiciously through the night.
She momentarily thought the coming battle
May be best done in the bask of morning light.
But time was short and with each passing hour...
Others would surely die.
So she begins her journey to confront this beast
Who has taken many lives.
She makes her way through the wretched gloom
Giving thought to her parent's fears.
She had never seen them so full of doubt
In all her seven years.
But the time had come to join the fight...
To aid those who gave protection.
And she was well aware of its woeful lair
Where she would fight this damn infection.
A nurse stands wavering from a vengeful night
As another dozen deaths has left her cold.
But she then heard a voice so free of fear...
It brought a peaceful solace to her soul.
'I wonder if you would be so kind
To take this moment and give me some direction.
For I am stout and brave with pluck and daring
And will help defeat this cursed infection.'
The nurse's eyes welled up at such a sight
And a smile reached across her face.
As by her side now stood a child
Who would defend the human race.
So remember this when all is lost
And the best of us lose heart.
A unsung hero will rise to bring us hope
And inspire us all to do our part.
The End
They say spring is paradise.
Will I think so too
as my lips get paler
and fingers paper thin?
Flowers - all of them
poppies, reminders
like the tissued kind
sold by valorous veterans.
Will poppies ever turn
to lilacs and carnations
before these fields turn
brown in fall?
Death resides
in the eye of the poppy;
no wonder their smells
are sweet.
I know the blossoms
mortal hint and
collect each fallen petal
for my basket.
©Kathryn McL. Collins
May 24, 2004
On a phone call from Mr. Mouse
Went to a spooky haunted house
and ventured to peep and enter
as carpenter in severe winter
to fix broken latch but Mrs.Hen tried to catch
me to snatch my tools and sat on egg to hatch.
From roof of asbestos crawled down Octopus.
Swooped vulture valorous, horrifying notorious.
Eight eyes of black widow sparkled through wide window
Moon cast ghostly shadow on feral bushes in meadow.
Violent viper always hyper, shedding tears,
‘I love you’ to whisper close to my ears.
Champion jumper vampire came to inspire
gifting me a shiny sapphire, me about to expire.
No reason to be afraid,
Let not your heart be coward;
Let not mire make your faith fade,
Let not your steps go backward.
There are many a reason
To be brave and valorous;
Amid the tribulation,
You'll emerge victorious.
God is there to protect you
From trials and poverty;
He'll make you happy, not blue,
In spite of calamity.
Be strong in your confidence,
Keep the light of hope alive;
The Lord God is your defense,
Letting your spirit survive.
Ask God for strength and power,
Inside the house of worship;
You should never surrender
To sufferings and hardship.
Form: Tanaga
I am no courageous,
Fearless, valorous, gallant,
Proud, adventurous,
Selfless patriot
I am a soul in exile
Expressing my thoughts in
All languages but mine
'' Hi…I am Palestinian''
'' Salut…Je suis palestinienne''
I cut my mother tongue
In half
Palestinian poet
Rafeef Ziadeh was right when
She said
''Allow me to speak my Arab tongue
Before they occupy my language as well''
Well… to that I must add
Allow me to be the Arab
That I am
Allow me my right
To learn, to travel, to pray
Allow me to walk through any
Foreign street without having
To feel this shame
Without having to think twice
About my clothes, my face, my name
Or the visa I had to work
Day and night for the claim
Because at the end of the day
I am not the one to blame
For Bin Laden, 9/11, and all your
Absurd schemes and games
I am but a soul in exile
I am in no hall of fame
I have to opt to be
Someone I am not
Just to fit in your fame
Despite the agony I went through
Despite the struggles I overcame
Despite the diplomas, the degrees,
The awards I acclaim
I am still no Palestinian
No matter how many
'' I love Palestine'' stickers
I stick on my car
No matter how many times
I cry over Gaza and
Argue over the Israeli settlements
No matter how many times
I curse the Zionists, blame the media,
And swear at the Arab leaders
I am still no Palestinian
Even if I memorize the
Names of all the Palestinian cities
Even if I recite Mahmood Darwiche's
Poetry and draw Handala on my walls
Even as I stand here tonight
In front of you all
I am no Palestinian
And I might never ever be
And that's exactly what
Makes the Palestinian
In me…
Read in the Twinge Dubai Event
Limerick: Once a Woman-Cleanser in Malawi
for Seodi White
Once (a) Widow-Cleanser* in Malawi
Insisted (on) being paid double fee
The dead man made certain
Left gift (on) this side (of) curtain
Now Cleanser on (the) dole with H.I.V.
• The “Widow-Cleanser” is a Malawian professional
“intermediate husband” of widows imposed on women
who cannot – under the laws of Malawi - own anything
legally, EVEN their bodies. The Woman-Cleanser sleeps
with widows for a fee ($50/-) in order to prevent widows
and future husbands – from being polluted by the dead
husband.
This limerick dramatises facts divulged in a CNN interview with
valorous women-rights lawyer: Seodi WHITE on March 17, 2013.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
I was told by my uncle Steve
that I descended from a prince;
word spread through the medieval town,
then all the single girls chased me
around every corner...I heard them giggling.
Blue blood flows in my veins,
that Coat Of Arms can attest this fact;
Frederick II must have given to a valorous knight,
I can imagine how he felt accepting this honor from a King,
but the mystery remains...what was his name?
I must search for my ancestry and those scrolls will surprise me;
and if I had a wish...I would be that armored knight who seduces
the Queen whose desire for a younger man is too evident.
Ah! I will be decapitated by the angriest King! You will weep, charming lady!
I don't live in a castle groping on a barren hill,
I don't owe lands tended by loyal peasants, no carpet
is spread on my entering, no trumpets announce
my coming; I'll never smile at a pretty princess or maid!
Ah! The illusive dream of a-would-be-king! But I have blue blood flowing
in these veins! Why wasn't I given a title of nobility like handsome Prince Andrew?
Theme: Who Am I?
Written on 1/25/ 2016
Who could forget what happened on that unsuspecting and sunny day,
when no visible clouds drifted over the Twin Towers?
Little after midnight, the cool rain adds to the melancholy
of the descending angels; and I join them in prayer to remember the tragedy!
This should be a day of remembrance, not of hatred for the ignoble acts
the wicked committed, but would God accept unkindness instead of merciful deeds?
They called it another day of infamy,
and like Pearl Harbor we were taken by surprise;
that was an attack aimed at the military,
but on September 11 the terrorists attacked the civilians!
It seemed like lightning striking down sturdy trees,
and then fire broke out with smoke trails of a thousands feet;
" O my God! ", every employee screamed...quickly running down
the stairs engulfed by fire...causing an indescribable chaos everywhere!
" Take my hand, I will lead you to safety! " the firefighter said to the coughing woman.
" Hold onto my arm! " the policeman yelled out to the frail man,
who had dropped his eyeglasses and couldn't see!
Every firefighter and policeman acted like them, rescuing many without fearing death;
and hundreds of them, that awful morning, never returned home alive...
what a tragedy for their families that watched in horror and couldn't help!
Who wouldn't remember the courage of their noble and willing hearts?
And furthermore, who wouldn't engrave their valorous names on plaques and monuments?
Up above, by the gates of Paradise...Christ and His Father awaited them to accept their souls;
while archangels surrounding God's throne, sung hymns that humans couldn't sing...
those hymns that all the earthly heroes will sing with them when Heaven mourns again!
Their portraits, pictures and memorabilia hang above the fireplaces,
and on the decorated walls of the victims' homes, precincts and firehouses;
how could anybody take them down as they were worthless items?
Prize them more than gold or diamonds, o friends grieving that tremendous loss even today;
don't hate those who caused you sorrow and unbearable pain, be forgiving and show mercy...
as God does toward us; o friends remember your heroes for their valor and sacrifice!
My poem is dedicated to the victims and survivors of the September 11 attacks on America.
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Withering wandering waves of a wasted will
The Nomad stands in solace within the silent still
Universal laws that lock and securely seal
Metaphorical minds that soon rebelliously reveal
Lachrymal light years that have gallantly gone
Pensive prisons meticulously molding a mortal pawn
Methodical madness mocking a soulless vessel
Where the deceived desiccated lie numbly nestled
A spirit stimulated by satiated slings and arrows
Barely escaping the narcotized narcissistic narrows
Vigilant valorous voids pleasingly passing through
To help distill the poisoned biotic bacterial brew
In the realms of the Nomadic turbulent tribes
Stands one alone with votive vibrational vibes.
June.08.2016
For Contest...
DISTANT THINGS...By John Lawless
Greatest Fear
Arachne turned spider by curse of Goddess
to weave and weave non- stop as lifelong process.
Baseless fear of spider is a stupid mania,
scientifically termed ‘Arachne Phobia’.
Africa is the zone of primitive human being,
where dreadful poisonous black spider was wandering.
Into human genes intrusion of spider phobia
is more or less developed since long ancient era.
Mom, me, and all my siblings younger or older,
each is scared just by look of spider, my worst fear.
Once we stayed in a house encircled by tall trees,
spreading long branches to touch windows at ease.
Off and on spiders took chances to enter threatening me.
To kill by one stroke of broom was the duty of my hubby.
One day my little daughter rushed from dining room,
yelling ’Large spider is chasing me. Come with the broom.’
What to do! I felt so helpless, so scared of venom
I was alone puzzled and hubby was not at home.
No alternative, I had to be valorous.
Just by single stroke I killed the furious.
05/15/16
Your Greatest Fear Poetry Contest by Lewis Raynes.
Whispered words from behind a wall
to cronies gathered hale and tall.
“Go on ahead.” He said. “Let me see.”
“If I can turn her sweet, on me.”
From within, she heard the tale,
the rye snickers, the wolves’ wails.
Yet, so like the doe in lantern light,
the wail entranced, did not cause fright.
Wide-eyed, stunned, the morsel stood,
in frozen stance within the wood
within his reach and steady glance,
the wolf approached, as if to dance.
With swaggering grace, he set fast pace,
a honeyed tongued Knight on the chase.
He spoke of honor of valorous deeds,
of his manly virtues, and she took heed.
“No, no, no,” said the Maid, she was shy.
“I’m afraid.” She said. “Do I hear a lie?”
He turned up her chin, and eye to eye,
he stroked her cheek and heard her sigh.
He offered her cake, this starving waif
with trembling hands, she took the bait
for upon his full lips , tongue and skin,
she could taste the sugar deep within.
He sought the warmth of blood and bone,
he thought the conquest all his own.
Yet, she held a hope buried deep within,
to bring forth the goodness, she saw in him.
Oh, she could well feel his aching need,
'twas his seedling soul, she sought to feed,
the prey, prayed, long to touch his heart
to give the wolf a brand-new start.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Many’s the times, his teeth came near
to the blue-red vein in her throat,
and many’s the time the Universe stopped
like a dandelion seed afloat....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The wolf in him balked for a short time,
tasted the joy of goodness’s wine;
loving, and feeling, and drinking anew,
what God has offered to each of you.
Could he extinguish this pure light?
Could he bring death to this delight?
Sorry, for the prey was the wolf within.
He was sore sorry; she’d let him begin.
Sorry, he could not grow in her arms.
Sorry, he could not succumb to her charms.
“Sorry,” was on the tip of his tongue
as he left, the prey on a run.
“Sorry.” said she, as her soul rose higher,
made stronger, though bathed in desire
like the fabled Phoenix so, she rose,
on the white wings of angels in repose.
A prayer floated back, as she drifted above
a prayer, she sent with her heart, to her love.
It echoed his sentiment of so many days.
“Sorry Love…” She said.
“May the Wolf find his Way.”
Every Obstacle Away
Like a bird that sails over everything on earth
Without even a dram of worry in its heart,
If you try to live that way
You will certainly get every obstacle away.....
Find, in yourself, your capabilities
Be confident and obtain your susceptibilities,
Like a king who is known for his sceptred sway
Imitate him and you will get every obstacle away.....
Be optimistic but be content
Forge your future in every silent moment,
Like valorous lion hunting it's prey
Follow it and you will get every obstacle away.....
The ill-equipped revolutionaries fought and died to set this nation free.
Against all odds they triumphed sending George's troops back across the sea!
The precious freedoms we cherish today were won due to their staying power.
It can truly be said of those courageous men that - "This Was Their Finest Hour!"
Men in Yankee blue held the line at Gettysburg with unwavering resolve.
Mr. Lincoln steered a steady course that a united nation might again evolve.
Alas, it took a fearful toll and bled the nation of its youthful flower.
Valiant men died to make others free - "This Was Their Finest Hour!"
In June of Forty-four, brave men stormed Normandy's shore to force a breach.
Heroic American soldiers forfeited life and limb upon that crimson beach.
They took a noble stance in order to knock the tyrannical Axis out of power.
History books will record forevermore that - "This Was Their Finest Hour!"
During the tense decades of the Cold War, dauntless warriors were on alert,
To protect and defend our priceless liberties that others sought to subvert.
Like a sturdy oak they didn't bend nor did they deign to cower!
A grateful nation will ever proclaim that - "This Was Their Finest Hour!"
Valorous American troopers yet today strive to uphold freedom's cause,
To stem the tide of terrorism that seeks to impose its despotic laws,
To bring peace to embattled peoples and install just leaders to power.
'Twill be told in generations to come that - "This Was Their Finest Hour!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Burning inside there are two flames I am devoted
to and none is of a lesser or a greater degree
that the other: I definitely love them both; nurtured
by virtue, assured by unbreakable trust, I foresee
they can shorten the longest road with little effort:
whether it be dark or bright, all must be won or lost!
The face of intense gentleness that I deeply revere is
that vigilant angel walking near me to prevent any
harm I may succumb to anywhere and anytime!
The beautiful flag I swore allegiance to gladly
flaps and assures me I will be protected by her always;
one flame is maternal love, the other national pride!
Anyone who tries to convince me to betray them is
is a foe trampling under my feet; who put life into this blood
is to be loved eternally until it can't flow anymore and that
flame is hotter than the shimmering sun unable to melt
the thick ice on my solitary path: never will winter's wind
wind freeze my skin and blur my vision on my travels.
I'm very fortunate to have known the tenderness
from my mother's humble soul and the valorous spirit
instilled by my country's profoundness of ideals;
one gave me birth, the other gave me a proud heart.
The sun rose slowly over the horizon and fell,
We are the giant of Africa,
Relying on the neighboring and international dwarfs for economic and socio-political development,
A situation for the angels to weep over.
Corruption, marginalization, favoritism, nepotism and insecurity hung like wet blankets,
Families are crying, children are dying,
The government remained silent as the sheeted dead,
A total impression sickeningly pathetic.
All that's beautiful drifted away like the waters running downhill,
No one is talking about poverty eradication and youth empowerment,
The valorous activists that once voiced out where assassinated,
The gutty and lettered are currently on the run.
Anxiety and uncertainty hung like a dark impenetrable cloud,
The only people feeding fine are those who can lie and steal,
Religious groups, correctional agencies and the leaders have lost their worth.
We are doomed.
All our thoughts, hope and future are running into tears like sunshine into rain.
Our lovely mothers are now competing with whores on the streets,
Just to make money to support our visionary, jobless and hopeless fathers,
The youths have resorted to crimes for survival,
Our citizenship has turned to a curse in broad daylight.
Choked by a rising paroxysm of rage,
We advocate for a revolution.