Called For Poems | Examples

At times in life

I’ve allowed some obstacle to become a barricade,
and God let me know I wasn’t making the grade.

Straightway, that called for a critique of my belief,
prayer brought God’s solution for lasting relief.

Stone Walls

It is a dawn, my love did call
as misty rain on fields did fall
l wept for thee, they didn't see
it wasn't meant to be

it is a night, the light burnt bright
but shadows , on walls , did write
l sang my love, across hills above
to echo's,  of my,  true love

It is the morn, l fear the storm
as valley waters grows
l called for thee, they didn't hear
l wrapped my arms,  in fear

it is the day, that l did pray
a watcher at the gate
my love could see, was not to be
across the heather , flee  

my heart did ache, my soul did take
no one to rescue me 
remember me, oh remember me
stone walls, surrounding thee.                                

         it is a dawn, my love did call
         as misty rain, on fields did fall
         l wept for thee, they didn't see
         it wasn't,  meant to be

in memory of  all the children and all  the loved ones,  :(

Evin Prison

Khaled was a bodybuilding champ in Iran
A photo shows a smiling and very strong man
Then in Evin Prison, at the mercy of nasty folk
His spine fractured, kidneys failed, heart was harmed, leg was broke.

Evin is a bad place, 113 degrees and no A.C.
I'm sure you can think of better places to be
One woman tells us solitary had no toilet or bed
4 months there then 400 days before she learned if she'd be dead.

Israel destroyed the Evin Prison gate
Then Trump called for cease fire, peace could not wait
I guess he didn't want to be dragged into a "forever war"
But for Evin's prisoners, Iran will close that door.

From the "dungeons of oppression" Khaled sent out a cry
He said "freedom of speech and human rights here are a big lie
But most Westerners know that.  It's just "what can we do?"
Until they come for us for their big plans include us too.

Voices in the Void

Without my pen, the pain becomes my voice.
The cruelty of others, the hardness of their hearts,
Linger in this place of cult,
Where public shaming is currency.

I scream for help, face to face,
Yet they cast me deeper into despair.
Tears bleed red, patience drains,
My heart trembles, a silent echo in the vast universe.

My eyes never dry, my body weakens,
Heart torn apart, full of anguish,
Yet no one feels the depth within;
They mistrust the plea for help.

This is my story, my life—
Manipulated by whispers,
By cults hiding in plain sight.
Insecurity among them breeds cruelty.

They lurk at corners, ready to strike.
I called for help. He laughed: "You're funny."
How can real danger ever sound like a joke?
This is the world's cruel reality:

Where chasing money and shifting blame
Leave no space for help.
And still—I believe, somewhere, somehow,
kindness awaits—
like a single candle glimmering
in the heart of the void.

By Accident

I spilled some wine on my blind date’s shirt.
He was vulgar and nothing like a gent.
Oh what a crying shame.
Guess I spilled that wine by accident.

A store clerk rolled her eyes when I asked to pay by cash.
So I paid her cent by cent by cent by cent.
Later “found” my credit card and quarters. 
The pennies had been just “by accident.”

The landlord took three weeks to fix our heater.
Coincidentally, I was three weeks late with rent.
Somehow I’d forgotten to pay on time.
Yes, it must have been by accident.

A greedy salesman pushed for more than I wanted.
A full hour later, I said, “My money’s all already spent.
You must have found me gullible
by accident?”

I told a tech guy that I’d called for help
that I couldn’t understand his accent.
And my telling that to him, my friends, for sure
was something that was not by accident.

Before the Dark

The villain wasn't always a villain. 

Once upon a time, they laughed like sunlight on pebbles in a river, 
Heart soft and eyes wide with wonder. 
But the world sharpened its teeth against them. 
An act of Betrayal and a wound, and a silence for too long. 


They reached out and called for aid,
No one responded. 

So, they built walls by way of broken trust, hid their heart in the dark, and learned to use pain like a tool. 

Now we call them a monster, 
but ask yourself this instead-
Who's the monster that hurt them first?


~hira~

Aftermath of rain

I called for rain
to heal the cracks of dryness in lips and soil.
To sprout the seeds I'd sown 
in hope expectant in dry soil, 
and with clouds looming gray in skies overhead.
But alas it came, 
too early, 
too late, 
or never came at all.

For when it rains too little it withers, 
rains too much it drowns.
When it makes callers wait 
far too long on hold, it appalls.

For rain is a wild cantankerous beast,
with a mind of its own,
leaving callers lost, hurt, 
frustrated and exasperated
in its aftermath.

The Song is my Superpower

I’ve Just Seen a Face
my first selection
I become more than I am
for the contest
I sing without the prompts
and make the lyrics mine.
I'm happy to have the day off.
Neon lights shine in the window
as other patrons watch
and someone throwing darts
pauses to take a look.
Free deli sandwiches
and chips on a table—
a special night to partake.
My second, Lady Madonna,
a slice of life for some.
I take a sip of my drink.
A former manager watches,
and I must admit I can never
be truly myself at the store.
The DJ says we all are winners
although only two will move on.
I receive a pat on the back
after the audience lost themselves
while watching me.
I had sung two songs
but someone sitting at the bar
said my music called for another.
A light in the parking lot
shines a star.

A Single Flower

Death came today... 
taking my sweet Jess from me; 
to an even better place, I pray, 
than this life we shared so passionately. 

If only I could just hold her, 
keep her a moment more; 
but alas, God has called for her, 
now she sleeps evermore. 

So many small things I should have told her, 
too many feelings left unsaid; 
I can only hope she sensed my love 
was stronger than words instead. 

As I pass through this day of lost love, 
there is but one thing to lessen my pain: 
her promise that one day, 
our two souls will be one again. 

So someplace I'll plant a single flower, 
brighten a lonely place; 
and hope she knows it blooms for two, 
an endless love for one never to be replaced.

For Me

I have written another Country song for all my soupper friends who maybe feel a little bit selfish at times ... It's called "For Me"


You know you're my love
you know you're my life
your everything to me
my dear precious wife
and you know I would do
anything that's for you
But this

I'm doing
for me

You know I've worked hard
all of my life
To make you feel happy
both day and by night
I made you a home
Never left you alone

but this,
I'm doing

for me.

I might feel guilty and selfish you see
But I'm doing this
I'm doing this
I'm doing this
I'mmmm doin' this
Forrrrrrrrrr ME.

One Battle Lost One Battle Won

In iron shadows, cold and tight/
I sank beneath the weight of night/
A crime unclaimed, a fate unfair/
And all my prayers fell on deaf air/
For six months, my tears took flight/
Rising like embers into the night/
I called for grace, for mercy's hand/
But silence met my last demand/
Sentenced, shackled, years were spun/
A war begun, one battle won/
I looked to the sky; eyes burned in rage/
The heavens above, no hand was raised/
Faith had faltered, left me bare/
Hope had vanished, none to spare/
Through depths uncharted, I made my throne/
A kingdom forged in fire and stone/
The Qliphoth sang its wicked tune/
I took my seat beneath the moon/
What Gods had failed, now demons rise/
A shattered soul, no compromise/
Life moves on, do as you will/
The stars remain, yet burn so still/
One battle lost, one battle won/
I wear my scars; they weigh like none/
Bow not to Gods, nor fleeting fate/
But to the one who walks through hate/

Life

In the game of football, one may be
called for an infraction by the toss of a flag.
In basketball, there are whistles and 24 seconds to shoot.
In the sport of boxing, there is a clock and bell.
When I was a child, there was a game called 'marbles'.
In the game of marbles, initially,  there was a line toward which each player tossed a marble to determine the first
to shoot his marble. There was an advantage to being the first shooter.

In the game of life, there are advantages and disadvantages, clocks, bells, flags, lines, and
Whistles. We are challenged by them. By them,
we may win or lose; grow and develope or
complain and allow them to control us.

Death Of A Hero

Just because someone isn’t wearing a bandage or shows no outward sign of illness doesn’t mean that they are not.
Quote by poet.


Sam lived two doors down and kept to himself, some thought him strange,
I found out he'd been in the marines and was suffering from PTSD, he always acknowledged me with a nod and a faint smile but Sam rarely spoke a word.
I felt sorry for him as he lived all alone with no one to share his problems with.
On one dark December night before Christmas I was walking home from work,
I was fifty yards from home when three thugs appeared and surrounded me,
"Your money and phone" one said, I froze on the spot and reluctantly put my hand in my pocket, then out of nowhere Sam appeared, baseball bat in hand, he swung at one of the thugs who went down with blood pouring from his nose, one of them then lunged at Sam and stabbed him repeatedly, Sam collapsed and the cowards ran off, I quickly dialled 911, “I’ve called for help" I told Sam, he looked at me smiling and said ,"Peace at last" then his eyes closed and he was gone.

A Mystery of Love

A Mystery of Love

Who can understand. Why would a person
sacrifice himself in such a way. Spat on,
slapped, falsely accused, deprived of sleep,
given no food, unquenched thirst. Hauled
before Pilate the Roman governor. No guilt found
but crowd cried for Barabbas, a murderer and rebel, to
be freed. No guilt could Pilate find, but the throng
called for His crucifixion. Scourged by Roman whips, 
hunks of flesh torn and blood flowing in rivulets.
Crown of thorn smashed down on His head, blood
streaming into His eyes. Purple robes of a false king
draped around His shoulders. Forced to carry the cross
beam of His cross until He collapsed. Hand forged spikes
driven into His wrists and ankles. Stripped naked and His
clothes gambled away. Hanging in the hot dry sun his parched
lips cooled by vinegar wine. He cried it is finished and gave up 
the ghost. His side pierced by a Roman spear to make sure.
A mystery to me why anyone would allow this to happen.
The only answer has to be love. God loved us so much He gave His
only son to die for us. Only He would consent to this and His ways
are beyond our understanding. His life for ours.

Augury

She called for me. I saw her standing by the window, transfixed by something outside. I stood at the door and could faintly hear a melodious tune. She beckoned me to come closer, and I marvelled at what she had seen. There were three colourful singing birds at the window, unruffled by our presence.

“They woke me up this morning,” she said.
“Wow,” I exclaimed.

There was a brief moment of silence between us. “It’s a sign,” she said, turning to look at me.
“What kind of sign?” I asked.
“It’s a sign that a soul is crossing to the beyond. A beloved one is easing into the night,” she explained.

Her words didn’t sink in deeply at the time.

As the morning light streamed through the window, the birds flew away. We were bereaved three days later when Nana eased into the beyond.

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