Best Waterloo Poems
In London fog, the river stills.
In silver sleep, it cools and fills
with cobalt mist as dawn unfolds;
above the Thames, the sun bleeds gold.
Into the haze, it pours and pools
like melting opal, liquid jewels
until the brume of morning fades
to prune the sky with unseen blades
that slice the flaming clouds in two
to frame a glimpse of Waterloo.
*Inspired by Monet's painting, "Waterloo Bridge: Sun in a Fog"
Categories:
waterloo, art, beauty,
Form:
Ekphrasis
Waterloo Clerihew 23-Skidoo
Napoleon Bonaparte
1769 Corsica is where he got his start
One of the greatest commanders in history
His manner of death a 200-year-old mystery
Napoleon played it close to the vest
With his armies he was always the best
But 'twas nothing he could do
When he met his Waterloo
Lived his last few years under house arrest
Napoleon drank the water and headed for the loo
He did nothing different than you or I could ever do
Be kind to your skin and protect your bone-a-parts
Remember that's where good hygiene starts!
Categories:
waterloo, conflict, french, history, humorous,
Form:
Clerihew
saffron shafts of sun~
behind lofty heights
of faded silver and sapphire
veiled by the hazy fog
spell prelude to dusk
faded titanium bridges
are galloping white horses
crossing the river of dreams
where our lost story drifts
illuminating faint gray
surrounding misty water
like when you cast
a fading smile~
as you wave goodbye
14 March 2021
Notes: Waterloo Bridge is a series of 41 impressionist oil paintings of the 1807–1810 Waterloo Bridge in London by Claude Monet, produced between 1900 and 1904 and forming a sub-series within his larger 'London series' alongside the Charing Cross Bridge series and the Houses of Parliament series.(Photo and info credits to Wikipedia).
All Yours (March 14) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Briand Strand
1st place
Categories:
waterloo, appreciation, art,
Form:
Ekphrasis
Cowpoke Hank hired on fer a dollar a day and found.
He wuz knowed as the best bronc-buster around!
They wuz allus a roll-yer-own a-danglin' frum his lips,
And he wore a pair of 44 shootin' arns on his hips.
He wuz lean and lank and had spent nigh thirty years in the saddle.
He wuz bow-legged as a pliers havin' spent all that time astraddle!
Wearin' an old slouch hat, bandana and scruffy pointy-toed boots,
He'd throwed a ton uv steers ridin' outta county rodeo chutes!
"Thar stands the orn'riest critter alive!", the boss implied.
"They ain't no mustang 'round I cain't tame!", Hank replied.
Other cowpunchers ambled to the corral to enjoy the show,
And with knowin' grins watched as Hank earned his dough!
The bronc jes stood thar snortin' with fire in his eyes!
Hank could see trouble brewin'! Boys, wuz he in fer a su'prise!
Sech hossflesh he'd never rode! He'd never seen sech gyrations!
His old bones had never experienced sech joltin' sensations!
He wuz throwed, stomped and wedged agin' the fence.
With his pals cheerin' him on, things wuz a-gittin' tense!
He finally allowed, "Boys, I give up! He's done beat me good!
I reckon I'd better find myself another livelihood!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
Categories:
waterloo, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme
Partir c'est mourir un peu..
Att skiljas är att dö en smula.
Av barn, fyllon och dårar får man höra sanningen.
Det är bäst att bita i det sura äpplet.
Den dagen, den sorgen.
The Story Begins
I remember long ago of night time kisses
Full of desire and apprehension, that you would disperse
You proclaimed your love, into my ear
I slept alone, the brisk cold hiding my fear
I would talk of dreams and foreign places
You begged me to go on and fulfill your dreams
Grand Manier nights , sad morning rays
Long gone was my love with golden hair
Daniel was not her lover
Under starry nights she held him close
I was nothing more than a friendly stranger
That he adored, and the son I never had
St Adolph would be my tormentor
On horses we rode in blankets of snow
Towards our destinies apart
Our fireplace of passion, we soon would depart
Like the brothers of Seville
I too was caught between two worlds
She would leave my heart in the cold of the rivers edge
From this day I became one of the walking dead
Categories:
waterloo, betrayal, grave, lost love,
Form:
Light Verse
Waterloo
by Robert (Bob) Moore © 2017
The night before the battle, the soldier would not sleep
thinking of his family, and memories to keep
with thoughts about tomorrow, and where he may be found
when the battle is finally over, and the recall bugles sound
He would think of the lines of soldiers, jackets blazing red
bayonets fixed, and rifle pointed, at the enemy ahead
could he do his duty, march steadfastly toward the foe
or would his nerve desert him, when the order came to go
He hoped that all the training, would jump into his head
and he would do what he must do, and not be among the dead
he knew he was no hero, nor the soldiers by his side
but he would find the courage, it was a soldiers pride
In line we advance toward the foe, pipe and drum, and bugles blow
cannon shot bursting overhead, friends falling all around you dead
you keep moving forward, and do what you must do
to help to win this Battle in this field at Waterloo
Categories:
waterloo, conflict, military, war,
Form:
Rhyme
There lies a field, where mice run and race.
I bought some traps, you know, just in case.
No risk of finger snaps
fool-proof, with gluey flaps...
Mouse does not die; but he's kept in place.
Eyes beg for mercy, what do I do?
rain bucket handy offers a clue.
Mouse caught in sticky trap;
submersion, it’s a wrap.
Blitzkrieg, one gasp; it's his Waterloo.
Categories:
waterloo, 11th grade, murder,
Form:
Limerick
Hank hired on fer a dollar a day an' found.
He wuz knowed as th' best bronc buster around.
They wuz allus a roll-yer-own a-danglin' frum his lips,
An' he wore his jeans an' chaps low on his hips!
He wuz lean an' lank an' had spent years in th' saddle,
As bow-legged as pliers, spending so much time astraddle!
Wearin' an ol' slouch hat an' well-worn boots,
He'd rode many a wild bronc out uv rodeo chutes!
"Thar stands th' orn'riest critter alive!" th' boss implied.
"Thar ain't no mustang 'round I cain't tame!" Hank replied.
Other cowpokes ambled to th' corral to enjoy th' show,
An' with knowin' grins watched Hank earn his dough!
Th' bronc jes stood there snortin' with fire in his eyes.
Hank could see trouble! Boys, wuz he in fer a su'prise!
Sech hossflesh he'd never rode! He'd never seen sech gyrations!
His ol' bones had never experienced sech sensations!
He wuz throwed, stomped an' wedged agin' th' fence.
With his pals cheerin' him on an' things a-gittin' tense,
He 'lowed, "Boys, I give up! He's beat me good!
I reckon I'd better find myself anuther livelihood!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
Categories:
waterloo, cowboy-western
Form:
Rhyme
Waterloo
200 years ago Wellington and Blucher with soldiers
made up of ruffians and ISIS type henchmen, beat
Napoleon’s army won and that was sad kings and
the nobility continued to rule unelected and setting
back an European revolution that could have saved
us from a world one brought fraternity and equality
to a reality which is not today where aristocracy do
as they please while paying lip service to democracy.
And I saw them today the crowned head and nobility
safely under canvas protected against nature wilful
play, the privileged people talking about equality while
they want nothing of the sort if they cannot control its
outcome. Flags and salutes they like uniforms and men.
Yes, for this is a male oriented celebration.
Categories:
waterloo, celebration, good morning, war,
Form:
Sonnet
Waterloo Bridge the last trip for desperate souls has always been a lure,
To jump from to escape from pain, anguish when you just can’t take any more,
What draws the very sad people here, could it be because of the stone seats.
That makes it easier to jump into muddy waters when a lonely heart beats,
At night gas lamps cause mighty shadows lower your head one jump it's done,
Nobody can understand the level of pain or understand how desperation begun,
Standing on a ledge in the moonlight looking down on black water just one leap,
Each has a story that would break any heart but they take it into the deep,
The jumper stands on the stone seat wind dimming lights blowing their hair,
Waiting for the moment willing strength and a new wave of bitterest despair,
Below is the end of all sorrow, poverty, lost love, the many reason for woes,
The River Thames takes anybody the poor, rich no matter what, it still flows.
Categories:
waterloo, depression, heart, heart,
Form:
Prose Poetry
I TREMBLE AND SHAKE
COLD AS THE ARCTIC
MY HEAD
FOGGY WITH FEAR
EYES DILATE
HANDS CLENCH
MY HEART HEAVY
THIS NAGGING
AND PRODDING
MY FEARS MADE TRUE
I'VE RUINED ME
AGAIN
I WANT TO ESCAPE
FROM THE MADNESS
OF ME
THIS BUMBLING UNCERTAINTY
THIS HURRICANE OF DOUBT.
Categories:
waterloo, anxiety,
Form:
Free verse
Ladies and gentlemen, laddies, lassies one and all
Water, water everywhere, be careful lest you fall.
Please take into account, we've found wet boards do shrink
and remind your children, this water's not to drink.
WHY, ye visitors to Snow Cave lake,
WHY for my job, you, your wat’ry fears forsake?
Tell me, fellow-creatures of geologic science
WHY in my presence, WHY try my patience?
Let's imagine we travel the shores of Gumee Gitchie
and pretend we're Wiahatha and Minnehehe
But alas! upon our banks, there is no naked maid.
Stay on the path, light-footed, if our lights should fade
Mine's to be the master spirit, your's to be the slave, don't sleep
Mine's to shape yourself obedient to the fuzzy words I speak
Flame and flood and stars and mountains from these primal waters seep.
Walking this path day in, day out, makes this young man weak.
All day I hear the noise of waters - above, below.
All day, all night, I hear them flowing to and fro.
Are there any otter questions, are there any?
My hearing's shot, but answers I have plenty.
How old is Snow Storm Cave you may be wondering?
As old, I would guess, as lightning, thundering.
Where are the Snow Storms? If you see one let us know,
after guiding for two summers now, I think it's melted snow.
And now we cross the Jordan or is it the Red Sea?
On into Snow Storm Gift Shop where your money can flow free.
Please come back to visit us, whenever you've less to do
Watch your step, guard your purse, remember Waterloo.
A Guide's Speech, easily adaptable to larger groups, longer tours by adding more poetry selections on the subject of water in general although other subjects would likely work as well for the essentially deaf.
Categories:
waterloo, 11th grade, humor, poetry,
Form:
Narrative
With every extra inch into darker depths
Wherein lean lot's venomous fang bites,
I brave worse pains and stings that rise
Past all steel into hitherto unfelt heights.
Every fresh day calls exacerbated fears
That trim stouter hope and fuller cheers,
Dealing fatal blows to potent prospects;
Fogging mirrors whereon all life reflects.
Even while I deem the battle finally won,
Still I meet emboldened missiles hurled
Onto the assumed triumphant champ;
Stilling his flying flag and grinning gun.
All past winnings turn to neutered starts,
In this ceaseless racing to a shifting line;
No first milestones earned via iron guts,
Ever long stand as an encouraging sign.
End-lines alter and time hops backward,
As I duel against Fate's nine-lifed sword.
Categories:
waterloo, absence, allegory, angst, anxiety,
Form:
Elegiac Lyric
Like Napoleon, I was born.
He led the French army,
I made sure the sheep got shorn.
And while I was covered deeply in sheep's doo,
he met his Waterloo.
And when on Saint Helena he died,
none of my sheep cried.
Categories:
waterloo, 12th grade, dark, history,
Form:
Rhyme
For the merited sake of Kangaroo
Let’s march towards any exhibiting zoo,
Advised to be humble the Napoleon-Tough,
Who still could meet his Waterloo
With a kick, hard and rough
From the Mature Kangaroo.
For the clear heroism of Kangaroo,
Control the urge to at it boo:
The Beautiful Brain behind our incubator
By medics as treasured as a student his calculator.
By biologists classed under Marsupial:
Whatever that means;
Its members rare like pearl
And rather few in screens.
Long jumpers with dreaming feet
To wisely forget the kangaroo’s feat;
Not a fame to ever pick
In a thousand Olympic…
Australia’s legacy to Humanity
And The Premature in maternity.
Categories:
waterloo, animal, appreciation, environment, love,
Form:
Rhyme