Best Wall Poems
Silence?
or
is that a cry
I hear
Screams?
or
is that
memories
hiding?
Wall
yes I listen
to a wall
days
weeks
forever
A white wall
stares back at me
curiosity mounts
I feel the wall
whiteness
blinds me
My heart stops
a rhythm
still
dances
ah
a smile crashes
into me
two
yes two hearts
one
wall
this non conformist city
breathes a calm but edgy air
through gaps in the graffiti
and the street art everywhere
its face is sometimes brutal
but its heart and soul seem not
and it walks a sexy diverse walk
that’s cold yet somehow hot
(but I know I’m getting older
when those fun thoughts in my head
reject the swinging KitKatClub
for KitKat bars instead)
and all those wearing AirPods
sipping hot drinks on the go
pass tourists taking boat trips
slowly going with the flow
while the 'high tea' of a bratwurst
served from food trucks on the street
is eaten at tall tables
en plein air without a seat
and just like high end stores at home
the windows dress up nice
displaying bling that's priceless
- as it’s shown without its price
note too that no one jaywalks here
by crossing roads at will
not even during rush hour
when the traffic’s standing still
and when it comes to bridges
here’s a fact that crossed my mind:
there are more here than in Venice
and in Amsterdam combined
and by saving time by taking trams
that move berlin about
we spent time taking time in parks
where locals take time out
while the aiming and the shooting
by the wall towards the west
was just us aiming cell phones
shooting selfies with the rest.
but the death camp films and clothes we saw
of the many that were killed
brought tears that drowned a silence there
for the blood that humans spilled
and I cannot start to comprehend
the minds of those who kill
and just because I went there
- and just because I stood there
- and just because I wrote this
doesn’t mean I ever will.
When midnight flames flicker aesthetic reveries,
releasing ashes of rainbow petals,
upon the canvas of undressed seasons,
I delve into blue blurs of butterflies,
framed in floating colors of nostalgia,
aching for dried dyes to home this scraped heart~
hanging loose, within smoky imagery,
as if every pigment will sprout from lilies of longing.
But can memories thaw frozen zeal,
illustrating steamy sunsets with liquefied rubies,
to unveil a timeless era, retouched and restored,
from the dust of dusks composed in surrealism?
And I, the splattering of an ink-blot,
persist as a dramatized kiss of tongue-stroked silence,
like a portrait, isolated in artistic utopia,
as love is more than a metaphor that speaks to the moon;
a pastel palette textured with melted roses~
saturated stars can interpret…
Emotions flooded my very soul as I viewed that Sacred Wall.
Etched for all eternity are hero's names who sacrificed their all.
I sensed that I was on hallowed soil as I knelt on bended knee.
I touched The Wall today, but more than that, The Wall touched me.
I offered a silent prayer for each of the names that I caressed.
Tho' their time here was brief, by them we were truly blessed.
They placed national destiny above their own defending liberty.
I touched The Wall today, but more than that, The Wall touched me.
They were ordinary Americans who performed extraordinary things,
Such grand and noble acts to ensure that freedom's bell yet rings!
They gave their full measure that humankind might live free.
I touched The Wall today, but more than that, The Wall touched me.
What might they have become, I muse, had fate not dealt them so,
A teacher, doctor, a farmer? Alas, we shall never know.
To teach nations The Golden Rule, I suspect would be their plea.
I touched The Wall today, but more than that, The Wall touched me.
Tho' grander monuments have been built for those of greater fame,
This simple yet powerful memorial will keep alive the flame,
Of humanity's quest for brotherhood, peace and dignity.
I touched The Wall today, but more than that, The Wall touched me.
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Placed 7th in "The Best Day Of Your Life" Contest
Placed 3d in the "Your Best Poem" Contest" June 2010
Featured Poem Of The Week 2-9 May 2010
lst Place in Security Public Library (Colorado) Poetry Contest - May 2006
Published in Poet Bob Casey's Book, "An Oasis In A Cluttered World" - 2006
Oh, flower in this crannied wall,
how did your roots prevail and sprawl
from seed that landed in a crack-
so shallow, small, in woods set back
from warm sun rays, to grow in shade
with vines about you- old and frayed?
Your blossom glows a vibrant red;
you stand out bright among the dread
of tangled sprays and dried-out brush.
Your velvet petals boldly blush
just like a ruby- precious stone-
shines on a tarnished ring, alone.
My Cinderella, come with me-
this fine glass jar- your slipper be;
a perfect fit, it shields your foot
of roots now clean of forest soot.
Soon, fertile soil you'll thrive upon-
a princess rose on my green lawn,
beside a prince who grew so tall-
and too was rescued, roots and all.
---------------------------------
February 5, 2023
2022 Poetry Marathon Qualifiers' FINAL Placement Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Mark Toney
The Wall
No Future is the worst and so,
I’ll dream of places I will go,
Fantasies are for such as I,
Facing the wall, the wall.
Tomorrow I’ll drive to California,
Oh, the flivver’s old but full of gas,
What’s stopping you? You say.
The wall, that blooming wall wall.
I will fly over the Himalayas,
And think of Tyrone Power,
The peeking little snow flowers,
Oh, but yes, there’s that d---- wall, the wall.
Filled with the wanderlust,
Gotta get outa town or bust,
No one will have to know, but then
There’s the wall, the wall.
I never saw your writing
against the silent wall
I never heard those footsteps
walking to the door
Like a sunset shadow
you faded in my dusk
Left upon my doorknob
just a venetian mask
A mask with many faces
and unforgotten past
A thousand million secrets
and questions never asked
No please,don't go reminding me
of a time before
Of those wistful moments
that now I don't recall
The stonehenged shrine of my heart
is over six feet tall
Cracks do let the light in
but the wall resists to fall
No please,don't go reminding me
of a time before
Of those wistful moments
that now I don't recall
Was there ever a vision
with the beauty of your eyes
Was there ever a fire
with the passion of our nights
Was there ever a sweet warmth
where velvets bled a rose
Was there ever a seashore
where my fingers brushed your toes
Was there ever a tree trunk
where stars have carved our dream
Was there ever a stream walk
where our starved lips weren't sealed
No please,don't go reminding me
of a time before
Of those wistful moments
that now I don't recall
The stonehenged shrine of my heart
is over six feet tall
I never saw your writing
against the silent wall
The Wall - Contest Sponsored by Anthony Slausen.
Oh my Gemini wall flower,
I wonder how your buds blossom,
as fragile florets yearn for foundations,
encouraging their roots to bloom.
If I should sow you into erratic earth,
suspicious sun might suppress its love,
relentless rain may suffocate your air,
with wicked winds stripping your petals.
So I will hold you in my hands,
compassionately caress your soul.
Implant you in my heart,
so my love can cultivate you -
protecting you from the storm.
Empathetic eyes will gaze,
enchanted by your elegance,
lost within the tranquillity of
your rare radiant scent.
Oh my Gemini wall flower,
you may be a lotus or a rose,
it does not matter much to me.
Simple Musing
Silent One
12 March 2018
In the shining sun
Many shadows seen
In the early morn
I see the shadows
That the sun shows
A shape of a head
Is wearing a hat
Or I see her face
Sometimes a dog
A shape of a house
What is seen often
A shadow of a person
Also animals
Shapes of different trees
The shapes change often
I read it from the bathroom wall.
God alone save's us one and all.
Along with other mixed obscenities like
for a good time call.
Some read rise against.
Others read Elivis was here.
God bless America communist take fear.
Its the lost and found of misspelled words
were the misfits gather do they all.
Im stuck here in a inconvertible position reading writtings from
bathroom wall.
I strain to read Robert and Beth forever.
whomever they are.
I question does this bathroom last through stormy weather.
I wonder what kind of philosopher finds solice in such a dingy
place.
Do they comb the wall just lookin for space.
Theres traces of blood from a drunken brawl.
Im sitting in the true melting pot of the world.
Reading writtings from the bathroom wall.
Dawn dances through the window
dressed in skirts of prismatic colors
magnifed by my bottles on the sill.
She spins pirouettes on the wall
as their invited morning guest
always welcomed to the Sunshine Ball
My glass bottles are part of my décor
not a mere whimsy of happenstance
through which Dawn chooses to dance.
I always meant to gather more
but my time is always spent
on life and more important things
the moment I walk out the door
There was a day, not long ago,
when I brought home wild roses
too short stemmed for my crystal vase
But when I placed one in each bottle
it was such a pleasing aesthetic that
it put a cavorting smile on my face
They never really needed a purpose
more than being pleasing to my eye,
but in Dawn's ballet the next morning,
daylight swam through rippling water
accompanied by a Blue Jay's symphony,
I knew how remarkable they'd become to me
One subdued in shades of polished green,
others were jars that once held preserves
but through their bodies of heated sand,
Dawn dances for me when sunlight calls
in graceful steps and arabesque so grand
How elegantly she danced upon my walls
The Wall, The Wall
I
the world fades from my fingertips
like blood oozing from an open wound
the sky is ripped apart and full of thunder
and my eyes are twisted in pain
shut the door and lock me within
the light is buzzing and flickering
something is about to explode
or maybe thats just my soul
softly touch the wall and it corrodes
the white paint peels and turns black
and cracks appear on the surface
a garbage touch that ruins it all
for years the signs of ruin were there
building up behind fragile white walls
and now i sit here with an open chest
my heart nailed to the damned wall
and as the world fades from my fingertips
like blood from an open wound
the sky outside is bloody and tormented
and i cant begin to see my own reality
II
im so afraid that if i get up ill fall again
damned by the ghosts of the past
the flashing glare of reality looms larger
closing in on me and slapping me
if only someone could open the door
and let me out of this foreboding room
perhaps i could see more than whats inside
instead of slicing myself in half
remember it was your verse that ended me
slicing off my fingers one by one
it was when my heart was nailed to the wall
that i truly forgot how to feel
my sickening screams echo loudly
throughout the confines of my own mind
reverberating down my spine
and leaving me in a shivering fit
as the world fades from my fingertips
like blood pouring from an open wound
the sky outside has faded to a deep black
and i cant begin to see my own reality
As he slept in tranquil dream,
Suddenly he flew, it seemed.
Thrown and landing on the floor,
Shaking walls and splintered doors.
Just as quick, the room grew still.
Distant tremors he could feel.
Out the door, and up the rock,
There he stood in sleepy shock.
How could oceans disappear.
Then a hissing he could hear
And a trembling, heavy roar
Headed for an empty shore.
Sunrise turned a greenish hue,
As he climbed, a better view.
Seeming far too large, he saw
What must be a water wall.
Thought of ancient stories told
Of a wrath that could unfold;
Sucking oceans with a breath,
Spewing endless waves of death.
Instinct quickly cleared his mind.
Panic now, he clawed and climbed.
Up, despite the screams he hears,
As a village disappears.
Once an evil came to call,
Scooped them up and took them all.
Now he's old, his stories wane,
Of the morning Satan came.
Gene Bourne
08-18-14
.
.
The GDR put up a wall
in ‘61 because
they wanted West Berlin kept out.
A wall of shame it was!
In fact, the West more easily
could travel all about
while Eastern Germans were the ones
from freedom routes locked out.
The wall was guarded. Some were killed
while struggling to flee.
The Cold War only made folks yearn
more strongly to be free.
To Gorbachev, one president
implored: Tear down that wall!
It wasn’t too much longer that
it would begin to fall!
I felt the joy they felt abroad
when crumbling had begun.
November ninth, in ‘89
Berlin again was one!
purple heart on wall
coffin's flag furls in fall wind –
day to remember
*Entry for Deborah Guzzi’s Holiday Haiku contest in honor of Veterans Day