Best Warded Poems
The Bard of the Norseman
A warrior’s fame and for glory all Norseman live worthy of life
Worthy the Norseman with warring axe to victory and spilt Saxon blood
For spoils of the serpent’s lair lie across the whale’s road
Far from the girls in the houses they love
Seeking a quest these warriors of Oden -always the dream for a bard’s song
Now set sail upon a journey –a glorious adventure- a hunting do they go
Do steer the battered sea-steed adorned by dragon’s head and tail
Endure the breaker of trees from artic northern hail
Skid the waves and endure towards a foreign mystical shore
Below a pallid sky-candle and darkening gray dim light
Nebulous rains doth hinder the rudderman’s impeded sight
Till at last the first oarsman peers across the misty horizon
Mystical panorama- calls acclamation unto Oden- makes call of reached land
These feeders of ravens rave honor into Oden
Lord of the gallows hath made the glory of the elves to shine
Down upon warriors the sun makes glisten- their metal horn helmets and shields
Set afoot to feed the eagles-prey on either Christian or druid-with a wounding-hoe
Seeking untold fame and glory and carry back a dragon’s hoard load
To brighten the battle-sweat of those made conquered
And sing unto Oden- tell their tales- make legends of victors
Believing Valhella's glory to come thus hunting they do go
Doth all Norseman perform deeds of valor with axe victory and slaughter-dew
So did live the Vikings Danes Anglo Saxons who wore warded blue
Categories:
warded, adventure, hero, history, mythology,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Walking when a cold, cold wind
Slowed my steps today,
My heart wanted to find
The warmth of yesterday.
Walking when a cold, cold wind
Swept my memory away.
I will not leave behind
The love of yesterday.
Walking when a cold, cold wind
Was all I could hear.
Your voice in my mind
warded me from fear.
Walking when a cold, cold wind
reached my house near.
Then I came inside
And saved a single tear.
Categories:
warded, memory, weather, wind, winter,
Form:
In between a wand and a warded space
lies an old Book Of Shadows to embrace;
Fee fried foe thumbs,
throw them in as the guitar strums;
Picked over hair follicles and toenails,
A few fast words followed by quick inhales;
Freeze dried pho crumbs,
throw them in as the harp hums;
Now toss in the vibrato of a ghost,
that sound is the recipe’s binding host;
Free fly fall mums!
Fester rich color to smack drums;
Add to that something so easily missed,
subtle allows magic to come undressed;
Fae, fire cauldrons!
manifest the desired outcomes;
In between a wand and the hand it takes,
lies an old Book Of Shadows to embrace.
Categories:
warded, emotions, feelings, magic,
Form:
Free verse
Song in the wind
Gentle reminder:
Rain through bamboo trees
Chirpy delight
Instant enlightenment;
Heavy heart uplifted
Postcard from somewhere
Far far away:
Greetings from long journeys
Old photograph
Faded with old times;
Ancient memories linger
My mother's gaze
My father looks;
Picture of the dead
Pain taunts
Sufferings preside;
Soon liberation sublime
Hospital visit
A sick relative warded;
Healing family support
Two yellow birds
Canaries on wood ledge;
Sing of fond love
Leon Enriquez
27 July 2014
Singapore
Categories:
warded, beauty,
Form:
Haiku
Opie woke up feeling right today,
got a good nod in
Everything was copacetic okay
Heard on the news
there was a crisis he should know about,
as he wiped the spittle drooling down from his mouth
Emergency in the suburbs:
Opioid deaths on the rise
He always woke up the next day
from a death dangle the previous night
So the rail thin fella just smiled,
because he felt like Superman
holding anti-Kryptonite in his hand
Opie knew he had his lucky charm,
a mantra that warded off any overdose attack:
Opie said he ain’t no coke dopefiend,
Opie said he don't do crazy ...
Opie don’t do crack
He’s a middle-class snob junkie,
he don’t steal for his drugs
Opie got a good job, and a ring of friends
with the same junkie love
Opie boasts that he’s a heroin man,
a surgeon with the syringe
He can stretch your high out a mile long,
make the needle sing you a lullaby Valium song
Opie never misses the mark
when he plunges the pusher poison in
Opie just floats back,
riding mellow on the narcotic wind
Opie was the headline on the local news that day
Powerful Fentanyl was the culprit his friends say
They say Opie died with a smile,
sucking down the synthetic smack
Opie died foolish proud ...
Opie didn’t do crack
Categories:
warded, addiction, death, drug, identity,
Form:
Rhyme
Unto Us A **** Star
Unto us a **** star apparently had been born;
Stormy turned out to be her obnoxious name;
Big breasts by her would be eventually worn;
She did end up being quite a deplorable dame.
Into her mouth was poured nutritious porridge;
For her to gulp all u and swallow and take in;
Such an envious body she would encourage,
Which were warded off resulting from each sin.
Then a little later her mind must have to admit,
Was devil himself she deeply within discovered;
And pretty soon later for hell he then had to split;
An overnight **** star from depths did uncover.
Around the countryside she went on a journey,
And another random rumor she started leaking;
She saw a handsome many who is an attorney,
Who exactly for we suppose she was seeking.
Together those two had made a terrific pair;
Much legal knowledge and ability possessed;
What happened and created caused a snare;
With each other eventually became obsessed.
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
Bolivia, NC
Just read a very thoughtful, meaningful
Mother's Day poem that prepares your
mind to think about your mother who
has past on.
Past On and Gaily Gone
Know that my mother has past on,
And to heaven she has gaily gone;
Bed made;
Into past fade;
Sheets are there and curtains drawn.
Jim Horn
Categories:
warded, allegory, analogy,
Form:
Limerick
RUNNING INTERFERENCE
by: Acquah Vicki on Saturday, June 9, 2012 at 12:07am ·
RUNNING INTERFERENCE
I have a brand-new glow. I am feeling free of these gremlins.
Hoping to stay that way, it's called growth!
Please feel free to feast off my soul food, and enjoy with me this journey.
I will accept no invitation to your karmic party; and I cannot help you with the inevitable,
No longer running interference. Neither will I be a catcher’s mitt - while you have the bat and won't swing.
Interceding for your negative actions no more.
You have generated a storm of deplorable deeds, out of concern I’ve nurtured your corrupted seeds.
I have mended the wings of dirty birds to fly, there I wrongly stood in the way of your fate.
Getting hit with your contempt as I warded off the hate.
The universe held for you a lesson. To correct your mistakes.
You will blame and throw tantrums and say no one loves you, and become irate.
You will make everyone feel guilty, because no one feels to dance to that off-key tune.
Though you move selfishly and have no regards for the wellbeing of others, I still love you.
Only this time I have learned not to feed into your selfish needs; so, the only
karma and lesson I am dealing with now is mine.
To you I plead! When your storm is over and you've made your amends; come to me,
Come to me, if you need an encouraging word, a bit of love, or a friend.
I have learned my lesson never to interfere with someone else’s lesson;
No matter how much you love them;
No matter how you yearn to save them, your service becomes a
disservice: No one wins, and no lesson will they have learned.
So, I discern...
Speak softly to the stars. Upon the universe, whisper a wish.
My understanding is now clear, never interfere, with people and their karma;
No matter how you love them,
Be it relative or friend; in the end, you'll only hurt yourself and them!
The result will be ...
You'll only have produce another
" spineless jelly fish “!
Categories:
warded, life, love, philosophy, storm,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Bright orange flames arc from his outstretched fingers to his gnarled oak staff
crazy shadows dancing on the walls of the warded sanctum.
With a lifting of one eyebrow the apprentice flings the molten fire out and engulfs the
Lightning Balls with ease. The lad strikes the butt of his staff on the stone ground and
with a clap of thunder, all magic winks out, both the flames and the lightning.
The Arcane Master rolls his eyes upward. “Eh, show off. You passed. But you will find
life the real test, young Magister.”
Categories:
warded, fantasy
Form:
Free verse
British graffiti artist. Controversial, polarizing, and deeply mysterious.
Awarded Person of the Year at the 2014 Webby Awards, but...
No one is quite sure who he is, or what he looks like. His talent, undeniable.
Known only by his pseudonym; rumored to be some "Robin Gunningham"
Surreptitiously completes his murals, and poof...he vanishes into thin air!
You may have looked into Banksy's eyes. It's a small world out there!
Date written: 08/23/2019
Categories:
warded, art, celebrity, mystery, people,
Form:
Acrostic
And God led Moses to Mount Nebo
for his lush, new domain to survey,
in the riches of the Promised Land
among valleys of trees and olives.
Where birds in the sky soared free
and wild beasts roamed the land
along the dales and rolling plains,
Moses by his God was blessed.
There he lived in that quiet place
wider than mortal eyes could see,
right in God's bountiful vineyard
till the day death took him away.
Yahweh was kind to Moses.
Eons have passed since that time
and here this pilgrim now stands
where Moses once stood in awe
to view what God to him bestowed.
But what do I see?
Barren earth of rocks and boulders,
parched, lifeless, ugly to the eyes;
craggy peaks and harsh wasteland,
uninhabitable ravines and canyons.
Yonder out to the north the Golan,
once Syrian, now by the Jews own,
just like the serene lake of Tiberias:
grabbed, annexed and conquered.
In the western haze is a mighty river
whose waters once swiftly flowed,
blocked by a concrete Israeli dam
away from Jordan where it belongs.
Far west is the ancient city of Jericho
where the Lord warded off the devil,
no more than a strip of old Palestine,
fenced in the West Bank, entrapped.
Lucky Moses and the chosen people
for by God from their bondage freed!
cry, Palestine, cry, a homeland lost,
long overdue your awaited messiah!
Categories:
warded, history, places, time, god,
Form:
Narrative
Dark corners, beige walls.
Scribbles telling you to "Beware, Be Aware."
The shadows pass and a woman croons.
"Let me buy my milk, 2 percent."
Laugh it off, "Get some rest."
Deep emotions for a "child".
"You're an adult now."
Welcome to the crowd.
This isn't my place, I thought.
Still just a "child".
Denial runs amuck.
"I'm fine. I'm great. I think it's time for me to leave this place."
Persuasive language takes its toll.
"That's fine! That's great!"
I'm finally back at home plate.
But then the voices come.
Loud and fierce.
Shades of red and a glare that pierce.
A conscious takes it leave.
Back to the dark corners and unwelcome friends.
That one soggy puzzle piece, too warped to fit in.
The lamp that only flickers off.
A friend who couldn't be a friend from the start.
And it's clear once again.
That I am lost.
So I checked back in to those dark corners and beige walls.
"Let me buy my milk, 2 percent"
I'm an adult now, I think I'll get some rest.
Categories:
warded, addiction, deep, depression, health,
Form:
Disheartned by misery, I went to sleep
without praying and laying down so restlessly,
then awful thoughts drowned me in sadness:
the strongest soul that always warded off demons...
suddenly became the weakest and most miserable of all!
O serene night, return to my consciousness
and brighten these shadows hiding hope,
that hope which finds refuge in tranquility;
o distressed heart seeking a soft moonlight:
let morning unfold its glory and marvel me!
O serene night, o distressed heart...
do I have to wait and watch darkness
deepen my fear when this prayer can
vanquish all the gloominess around me?
Categories:
warded, fear, hope, lonely, night,
Form:
Verse
Dust
Frank Halliwell
A friend wrote a lament to dust.
She swore and fumed and long discussed
A publicly proclaimed decree
That dust was her sworn enemy!
But dust we know, has long withstood
Endless attacks by womanhood,
And warded off from dusk to dawn
Their sprays and rags and feathered wands.
It merely moves from place to place
Drifting around with easy grace,
Till once again it gently drops
To shelf and desk and tabletop
And settles down scorned and eschewed,
There to remain until pursued
Again in unavailing chase
Around the house from place to place.
But in the end, they suffer pains:
Sore backs and arms: -the dust remains,
For dust is an eternal thing
Always benign, not menacing!
As husbands know, the dust exists
For writing notes and grocery lists,
For jotting down phone numbers too!
- A handy kind of residue!
For one may write on dust with ease,
And save the paper, and those trees!
...A notepad that is heaven-sent
For guarding the environment!
o0o
Categories:
warded, art, poetry,
Form:
Rhyme
Elan's word?
Zulu's sword?
Heartsichordiums-convulsive-verb
"Anabantium", O wraith of mord.
So is it, it is for Hilerides-Dales,
which green-discourse,
Southeast of Wales
or some other perch
of liaisoned Angeles-porch ?
Is one-way with a steep of glades newly born.
No sooner have we besmirched.
Self.
Nostra-damned-us, Astrogalus,
Nostragus.
Nemean Lion- first-of course;
eat us- at these quatrains,
like a double edged verse
candlelight-consuming in a dance of
strobelight nurse.
Neon-Cry that Mercury-Tear.
Filter-through, Mushroom Signage
of Modern glares.
As is-with directions,
one way streets to the Dens of thieves.
Dropping, dripping, burning eaves.
Robbing hoods and so also
there was some relation at worst-held
at bae or backwoods, back alley deed.
Err thee connection-theta warded-word
to say in it's assumed position,
bemusing Gaias':wraith de morgue.
Wraith de Morgana, r ape Avalons' Mist.
Undo the handmaiden with a new Word?
Unkiss? Disrobe? Amiss?
The Nostracina in turn be as it may.
Apologetics-Hilaridesics,
seems originally as being male; alone,
an Ictinopharctic poet
(nere-accompliced drunkenly-bare.) Was
named as for it a "Father-Door".
Now abyssmal opening, "Abaddon or Apollyon"
for who we to christen in sinful-adornment
of the riding of the unrepentant-whore.
To make her implore(doors? to whom?),
Ihttiphodar-Apath-Anamethat-Anathema,
that fore-in the family to grow-in-swore.
There have come much
tumidity and variety, little understanding
nor humility of season or station.
Of which that may be confusing for some.
Critique the weak, in terms of being. "Able to know".
Is just in it or have you
see to it's evening-glow?
Civilization? No.
Then this, also which I'll have to explain at night.
Among other that I have also,
left traces from the rite,
(their language of love,
of also of a possibly anamallan),
is then saying, (Elan!), more is the pain.
Till that which comes, comes as that Latter Rain.
No?
All other which I cannot know
for thee for it is hermetically sealed,
Bibliopsysicly sown.
Categories:
warded, abortion, absence, abuse, addiction,
Form:
Free verse
I want us to walk
To a place we had, months ago
To access that instinctive calm
That warded off all calamity
And be who we were.
I want us to sit
As we had on 'our bench'
With your mass, rested on my lap
And finding comfort in fingers, interlocked
Holding onto moments, we knew would be irreplaceable.
I want us to look
At a view that once captivated us
With our eyes swaying back and forth
And realising at their meet, the romance reflected
Sighting chemistry, we knew would be unmatched.
I want us to converse
As we had fluently before
With our minds expanding through each word
And foolishly making remarks, that warranted apology
Engaging thought, we knew would be recalled.
I want us to love
As we had when we first sprouted
With us promising to each other, all we could afford
Asking only of presence, in return
Growing a togetherness, we thought would never part.
Categories:
warded, care, change, deep, emotions,
Form: