Best Well Over Poems
The shadows on the moonlit road
Belonged to ancient trees,
But then I saw a hulking form
That made my marrow freeze.
He stood well over six feet tall,
His face was long and lean,
‘Though dressed in velvet like a lord,
His voice was cold and mean.
He aimed his pistols at my breast,
With, ‘Stand and drop your knife.
Deliver all your goods, my friend,
Your money or your life.’
I knew I couldn’t hope to win,
And threw the man my purse;
But then he leapt upon his horse
And rode off with a curse.
The sounds of riders galloped by,
But none were there, I swear;
I heard a single shot ring out,
Thus adding to my scare.
The highwayman would never rest;
But all was still again;
I prayed, and, chilled by thoughts of ghosts,
Continued down the lane.
For Joyce's contest
Categories:
well over, imagination,
Form:
Rhyme
My muse is in a whirl
For she just doesn’t have a clue
Am I eligible to enter this contest …
I really don’t know what to do!
My age is of no concern to anyone but me
I may be twenty-one or I may be eighty three
Our friend retired at 35, I don’t class that as old
Fortunately for him his investments all struck gold
I’ve been posting on soup for well over a year
Therefore I can’t enter a ‘new’ poets contest
Does this make me an old poet?
Can I enter this ‘Old Poets’ contest - that is my dilemma!
Contest:- Inside my head For ‘Old’ Poets only
Sponsor:- John Lawless
09~11~15
Categories:
well over, confusion, humorous, poets,
Form:
Free verse
Well over a hundred years ago
The illustrious Vincent Willem Van Gogh
A genius somewhat like Michelangelo
With thousands of artworks in his cluttered studio
From the sublime to the grotesque for show
Might have been better off working as a gigolo
Because he died a pauper on skid row
In those days artists had no impresario
To make sure they lived high in a chateau
Dining on champagne and escargot
So it was quite a different scenario
That brilliant artists lived totally incognito
Often exchanging a painting for a meal on a patio
Or selling their wares door to door on tiptoe
Carrying under their arm their impressive portfolio
So it was for Vincent Willem Van Gogh
Misunderstood and suffering from vertigo
Mentally unstable and drinking heavily in Bordeaux
Depressed, impulsive and insane – a tragic combo
Cut off a piece of his ear, his sanity was touch and go
A troubled soul, life for him was a wild rodeo
Obsessive passion, far from living the status quo
His life and work intertwined shimmying like a yo-yo
Feeling the stranger, he shot himself overcome with sorrow
Post mortem everyone wanted to hear the myth of Van Gogh
With his vivid colors of burgundy, ochre and indigo
In his honor every year the orchestra features the oboe
And while the Italians chant magnifico
Everyone else cheers Bravo! Bravo!
How times have changed for poor Van Gogh
From a mere hundred years ago ~
Read on air by invitation ~ March 21, 2020 'LATE NIGHT POETS'
AP: 2nd place 2021, 3rd place 2022, 3rd place 2021, Honorable Mention 2022, Honorable Mention 2022, Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on August 15, 2021 for YOUR BEST MONORHYME contest sponsored by WILLIAM KEKAULA - RANKED 1ST
March 20, 2018 to END MARCH 18 STANDARD CONTEST sponsored by BRIAN STRAND
and May 4, 2018 to contest SCREWED XVIII sponsored by ROB CARMACK
Categories:
well over, art, celebrity, irony, mental
Form:
Monorhyme
Have you ever been a-flyin'
Up in the sky so blue?
If you have you seen the people
Who provide their service for you.
Flying for them is a profession
One of assistance, service, and care.
I often times have mumbled
At some of the things they hear.
Have you ever been a-flyin'
In a plane with silver wing?
If so you have met the people
Whose "attendance" is their thing.
I have seen them courteous and collected
Even in spite of a boor.
Somehow you know they are thankful
When the last one is out the door.
Have you ever been a-flyin'
Up above in a crowded plane?
Have you ever wondered
How those people do not go insane?
Life for them is walking
Thousands of miles each day.
With every step they take on that plane
They try to help in every way.
Have you ever been a-flyin'
Up high...well over a country mile?
Then you must have seen the people
Whose job it is to smile.
Courtesy is the watchword of their profession
No time to give way to personal vents.
So when you get on an airplane
Be thankful for the "Flight Attendants".
Categories:
well over, flying, giving, jobs, people,
Form:
Rhyme
Who is actually out there
That the multitudes believe
What religion is really there
That they all see
How many are actually out there
That makes them all believe
What religions are actually out there
That they all see and believe
How do they know they are there
What have they seen that they believe
All their religions they say that are out there
That have never ever been seen
So many scripts and fables
Passed down through the times
Passages from village elders
Etched and changed their minds
Do believers look back even further
To well over two thousand years
When the village elders decided
To suppress, enhance their fears
Do believers go back even further
When the land produced their gods
Volcanoes, lightning and thunder
Became their staff, their rod
As I return from beyond the dark
On travels that you can't comprehend
Others actually know where you came from
If told would send you round the bend
All that you believe in
Was passed down through the years
The elders of human history
Suppressed you, to contain your fears
.
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/life-6.php
Categories:
well over, history, life, people, places,
Form:
Quatrain
She Such A Ravishing Sweet Georgia Peach
I at naked horror of truth laid bare
loved her, beauty with long raven hair,
that magnificent grace of her sweet soul
those long, curly tresses blacker than coal
yet such a goddess was beyond my reach,
she such a ravishing sweet Georgia peach!
I once found the courage to ask her out
to taker her to the fair, show her about
sadly she was that day flying abroad
twas' Fate or else a timing most flawed
kissing me soft as she walked away
saying, for thy soul I shall this day pray!
I at naked horror of truth laid bare.
Loved her, beauty with long raven hair.
R.J. Lindley, Sept 9th. 1979
Sonnet, ( She of majestic beauty, kindness and grace )
Old Note:
(Fate continues its war upon this struggling soul)
New Note:
Fate and I have fiercely battled for well over 50 years
All through those years, I've suffered heartaches and tears
Yet a blessed and deserved recompense finally at last came
Now aged and a bit wiser, this declawed lion 'tis truly tame.
Categories:
well over, art, beautiful, desire, emotions,
Form:
Sonnet
I live in the woods among the trees
I have eagles and the fish that swim out to sea
I have a small cabin in the trees
I have birds in trees that are always singing to me
The snow is falling right out my front door
While my wood stove is burning keeping me warm
I type out this poetry in the woods
The air is so clear with the fresh sent of beer
As I open this bottle of beer
To describe the beauty that is here
It would take well over a year
Way more then this six pack of beer that I have right here
It’s so quiet at night you can hear the trees talking
The sound of deer walking by the crackling of dry leaves
You can hear the wolves howling looking for food
All the stars at night are a wonderful sight
There is peace and harmony among these trees
Nothing like the city with cars and free-ways
I sit here alone just thinking about this poem
My heart is at peace each day and every night
For the birds in the trees keep it that way
So I can write this poetry and you will see
The beauty that surrounds me among theses trees
That I call my poetry in the trees
Sponsored by: Silent One
Contest Name: Into The Woods
Date: 01/06/2019
Categories:
well over, tree,
Form:
Rhyme
Shogi
me?
I can barely play Go Fish
Old Maid is well over my head
Shogi?
I think not
Shogi: Japanese chess
where you get to use your
opponent’s captured army
Categories:
well over, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Light Verse
The Timeball
sits atop of a tower
at Point Gellibrand - a quaint
relic of the past when,
well over a century ago,
ships at anchor in the Bay
would set their chronometers
as the ball descended
at precisely 1pm each day.
The Timeball is still in use
though not for its original
purpose but to serve
the curiosity of the tourists.
I often sit there
and watch the spectacle,
the ball lowering at 1pm,
check my phone time to see
if both are in sync - they
always are. I think
of the seafarers who navigated
the high seas with instruments
tuned to its time. They are all
gone now, exist only in old
photographs hung in the local
maritime museum.
The Timeball survives and I
wonder whether if they,
like me in darker moments,
saw it as a slow guillotine
slicing yet another day
off their lives.
I wonder too if they, like me,
looked out over a wider
world beset with strife,
saw the Timeball fall as if
counting down to some
uncertain catastrophe
gathering somewhere ahead.
For them it was the horror
of two world wars.
For me and my age it is
that thick, sulphuric mist
spread out on the horizon,
still shapeless and yet drawing
ever nearer and will not stop.
Its menacing advance measured
day by day at 1pm
when the Timeball drops
Categories:
well over, future, history, time,
Form:
Free verse
Its sonorous tone has struck the hours for well over a hundred years,
But time hath surely taken its toll on its weary wheels and gears.
'Tis built of sturdy oak by craftsmen who took pride in their guild.
My old friend stands nigh seven feet tall and leaves my life fulfilled.
To keep fit he needs a tune-up now and then as all we old guys do,
And with a generous squirt of oil here and there, he runs just like new!
His beaming face shines and his rhythmic tick-tock tells me all is well.
He's a dear and treasured companion for all who in this home do dwell.
Oh, if only he could talk of the many things he's witnessed during his life;
Birth, death, sad and happy times, the struggles of foolish man in strife.
Old Grandpap has been quite the world traveler since his birth in Bavaria.
He's been to Japan and all over America - he's covered a lot of area!
How comforting it is to hear his soothing chimes in the still of the night,
Knowing that he is keeping time for me and that everything is alright.
With each pendulum swing he reminds me that my time on earth is measured.
Time I dare not squander and time with friends and family must be treasured!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
Categories:
well over, nostalgia, time,
Form:
Rhyme
Remembering Rosa Parks
By Elton Camp
Well over a half-century has now passed
Since she resisted discrimination at last
To the back of the bus she refused to move
One person makes a difference she did prove
Ms Parks refused to let herself be disrespected
And didn’t respond as racial bigots expected
Those officials who tried it were surprised
When the civil rights movement it galvanized
President Obama went and sat in her seat
In recognition of the courage of her feat
He well might not be where he is today
If Rosa Parks hadn’t acted in that way
Categories:
well over, life, people,
Form:
Rhyme
A Wonderful Day Afishin'
A wonderful day fishing, frying fish in the pan
logs sweetly burning, smokey smells of delight
Lake nearly perfect , a pond in God's opened hand
feast soon to start a beautiful camping night!
That monster fish that easily broke your rod tip
set a memory to be recalled decades from now
As recollections in old age our minds eagerly dip
mental pictures the where , when , why and how!
This night shall hold us in a very deep embrace
join me in a toast to a future so fine and sweet
Singing of happiness , joy and your smiling face
memories, good times, wine and fish to eat!
A wonderful day fishing, so very hard to beat
Nature's offering, magnificent trout to eat!
June -09- 1978
Robert J. Lindley
I wrote this decades ago. My fishing partner was a fine
lady that I almost married! Sadly she passed away back in
May of 2005... She had married and had a grown daughter
in college. I hadn't had contact with her in well over
22 years. Still it was a sad day for me upon
learning of her death...
Categories:
well over, appreciation, beautiful, blessing, dedication,
Form:
Sonnet
I accidently ate some chilli seeds
That fell into my tea,
I went screaming and shooting through the roof
And landed in the sea.
My dearest mum yelled “You’ll burn your mouth!”
While hopping about like a flea,
But I left not a single seed to waste
And Lost my sense of taste.
It’s well over a decade now,
But my mind always reads:
I accidently ate some chilli seeds
That fell into my tea
10/01/17
Categories:
well over, children, fun, funny,
Form:
Rhyme
He was a large soldier, standing well over six feet.
In World War II; imprisoned in the Philippines.
Thousands perished on the Bataan Death March.
They were brutally beaten; starved and parched.
Wanting to give up, during this sixty five miles.
Thoughts of his wife, Helen; her beautiful smile.
They had vowed to be each others help mate.
He would press on, with a slow, painful gait.
Knowing she was praying for him gave him strength.
Tho thousands of miles apart, their hearts still linked.
Their marriage, like the oak tree; its' roots were very strong.
He was a skeletal seventy-eight pounds when he returned home.
When he was certain he could simply go no farther.
His lovely wife Helen became his scent of water.
*This is a true story about one of my husbands cousins, Helen and her
husband. She has dedicated her life to helping find POWS or their remains. She
works tirelessly and has helped numerous families. I am honored to know her. I never knew him. He had gone to heaven before I met my husband.
July 16, 2014
Contest: Scent of Water
Sponsor: Faye Gibson
Categories:
well over, hope, husband, soldier, war,
Form:
Sonnet
Somewhere over Europe
A B-17 flies
Strafed and damaged
In her enemies skies
The flak has taken
Its toll on the plane
This crew so brave
In this theatre of war campaign
Many hours have passed
With no sight of the channel
Only land ahead
Is it our instrument panel
A shout is heard from the rear of the plane
A Messerschmitt ME-109, beside us flies
We are sitting targets for another kill
The pilot turns his head, as i look into his eyes
He is making a gesture
For us to turn 180 degrees
Do we believe our enemy
But we eventually agree
He continues to fly
Like an escort of question
Were we right to agree
His degree of suggestion
For up ahead we see
The glint of blue water
Our horizon of hope
Are we saved from slaughter
Moments later
As i turn my head again
A wave from the German
As he banks his fighter plane
We are now well over the channel
As we sight the white cliffs of Dover
Our B-17 in struggle
This mission near over
On the runway at Kimbolton
The fire crews stand ready
Will our plane take the landing
Is our undercarriage steady
Touch down we make
As we talk of our flight back
About the German fighter pilot
Who refused to attack
It is now many years later
For we were lucky, we grew old
As we assembled on anniversary
Our story could now be told
For he had kept it his secret
But now we have to say
Franz Stigler and his German fighter
Is why we are before you today
He was scrambled to intercept
The enemy that we were then
When he arrived we awaited
The fate of us men
When he viewed our plane
He couldn't believe his eyes
Why something so shot up
Still flew in his skies
When he returned to base
In his reports he states
It went down over the sea
And sealed our fate
After all these years
I am so happy we have met
We have lived many years
While our lost colleagues have slept
I thank you Sir
For sparing the lives of my crew
As we stand together for peace
We salute you
This is a true story from WWII, written by request for Sara Kendrick,
who loves to challenge me, and i thank Sara kindly for the opportunity
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/war-6.php
Categories:
well over, anniversary, friendship, history, life,
Form:
Rhyme