Cannonballs Poems | Examples

Pen as Sword

i drew out my glittery pens
and turned them into swords
ready for the war
against their words and my thoughts

i pen down my feelings
in stories and prose
my ink like cannonballs
aimed at their high forts

not every pen can be turned into sword
not every sword can save you in the war
sometimes wish to be free from living is high
whether its eclipsed or blood moon night.

Row To Riches

Aye, scurvy dog! Take one of those!
as cannonballs deal deadly blows.
A satisfying, savage row:
the bond between the rowers grows.
But rapid fire, be on your toes;
you’re in the open, all exposed!
How quick it ends? Nobody knows,
but in the end, it’s down she goes...


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Row To Riches is a multi-player "game" on the Aviron rowing platform where you team up to hold off the pirates from stealing your treasure. How fast and how hard you row determine how quickly you can fire and how much damage you can do with your cannonballs...

Stormy Weather

Seaweed, fragmented shell as cannonballs 
in maelstrom hurled upon the shore.
The bellowing wind cast all asunder
as Summer’s shoots from shifting sand were torn.
Such was Autumn’s storm.

The sleet was blown in horizontal sheets
as figures double-bent fought step by step
to make but little progress, homeward bound.
The sky was lost in billowing grey, forlorn.
Such was Winter’s storm.

Relentlessly the wind swept off the ocean 
with yet more rain to swell the sodden peat.
A daily deluge on embattled land,
with hope yet stirring seeds of life newborn.
Such was Springtime’s storm.

The grey skies shift to blue, and now a breeze
is heralding a longed-for transformation.
With rainbow colours Mother Earth is blessed 
and all the islands of the west caressed, reborn.
Sweet Summer knows no storm.

Eggshells

for some reason
around your fortress
you’ve built 
insurmountable blockades
and from their safety
you thrive on lashing out
catapulting showers 
of fireballs
and cannonballs

it took a while for me
to realize we were at war
I simply didn’t know
in hindsight it’s been going on for years
but I really truly didn’t know
I knew enough to keep my distance
and stay out of the firing range

you’ve always had me
walking on eggshells
why? I haven’t got a clue
after all these years 
to tell the truth 
somewhere along the way
I simply finally lost interest 
so keep doing what you’ve got to do
and I’ll continue
liking you the way you are

the last of eggshell crumbs
have turned to lovely sand
and your fireballs
now look to me
like nothing less
than fireworks display



AP: Honorable Mention 2022, Honorable Mention 2021

Submitted on June 16, 2021 for contest ALL YOURS (JUN 17)  sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - 1ST PLACE

Posted on June 7, 2021

Dreams of Peace

He envisioned peace
on fields of war
 cannonballs and death

Hit as the war was ending
sweet dreams for aye denied
  ~ on a hero's dying breath

Harpooned

aeolian mist of Bretagne
as the orange
sun cannonballs into the
ocean depths. shrillness
of sound on shepherd peaks,
trembles down on panic-grass.
sprites and sirens toss’d from their sleep.
the earth violates, the sea
surmounts.
                        trident stabbed whale —
                        hearty breakfast in
                        the fisherman’s bed.

11/22/2020
Make Me Laugh with Some Humor
Sponsor: Tania Kitchin

Old Ironsides

massive oak timbers 
hearty men piped to action
mighty war machine
planks resisted cannonballs 
like our nation, still afloat

Portraits On the Fourth of July

A girl in the crowd takes a selfie.
Her tam o’shanter sparkles
because of the fireworks going off
in the background.
At the gates of Moscow
Tchaikovsky runs away
hands over his ears.
The girl with the cell
is as pretty as her friend beside her,
but her friend outshines the tam o’shanter
as if it were just an ordinary beret.
She has sapphires in her eyebrows.
Kids in earshot of adults
‘wow’ or mouth age-appropriate obscenities.
The limp body of a teenage messiah
is elbowed and pushed around by his disciples.
Several rows back, a woman is laughing
as she cranes her neck skyward.
From the chin up, she looks like Greta Garbo,
only she is short and fat.
Rockets fly like fan-dancing ostriches.
The truncated 1812 Overture burps to a close. 
My lens can’t capture the woman
or the girl, or her friend
who now shines like a diamond.
I can’t fit all of this into 12 mega pixels.

The night stops throwing cannonballs
at 1 a.m.

Yeah Yeah Yeah

Blue Barrel Blue Barrel you got me over you
Fraudulent extravagant
How much you want to bet
Winners odds surround it by Cannonballs
Jump for joy
Boxes of toy if batted and overjoyed
Dark chocolate caviar based in olive oil
Reese's Pieces, Kit Kat and Almond Joy
 tis a pleasure doing business with you
... Beastie Boys
Shopping at The Bargain Basement second hand storesl'
Help them, help us all Lord


8/21.19
James Edward Lee Sr 2019©

Imagine

Imagine this, your heart is racing.
You’re nervous about meeting someone new.
You have so many scenarios running through your head,
But you stay the course.

The excitement flies like butterflies.
The adventures so new, it’s worth every minute
But the joy fades off, reality kicks in.

Imagine this, your heart is racing.
You’re nervous about seeing them again.
You have so many scenarios running through your head,
Yet you stay the course, not knowing what will happen.

The memories fly like cannonballs shot into a sturdy brick wall.
The adventures rehashed, remembering what it was really worth.
But the nerves fade off, reality settles in.

Imagine this, your heart is racing.
You’re you don’t know where your path will lead.
You have so many scenarios running through your head,
Yet you stay the course, knowing your mind and heart might not beat the same.

The unknown flies by without a trace.
The beat unsteady, unsure how to proceed,
But the joy and nerves eventually will fade with one choice to choose, reality then, will kick in.

Haiku

smoking barbecues
cannonballs and dips in pools
baseball games to view




5-14-18

Melting Snowball: Wars Hold

Silver blades in deathmatch, sound of thunder, lightning cuts flesh in half.
Robotic feet march, shaking redwood trees, frightening bird wings.
Bobbing heads in claustrophobic helmets, decomposing.
Cannonballs block out the sunny skies — fate’s abysm.*
Fat furry rats scurry, from trench to trench that reeks,
With dead men’s bones and meat, like drowning flotsam.
Tears like a raging hurricane scream out,
For their mother’s arms to hold them tight.
How is it, the sun’s glow appears?
The nightmare’s invisible.
You tuck your son in bed
Then kiss his sweet head
And shake with fear. 
Will war grab
His soul?
NO!


3/19/2018
Line Gauthier’s A Melting Snowball Contest

*syllable counter counted abysm as two syllables but dictionary has 3

As Pure As Imagination Is : Apropos Grooving To the Word

as pure as imagination is
(apropos grooving to the word)

imagine this:
drumming words
to 88 keys
rainbow
ending 
into each other
mellowing out
like trane
waters
streaming tears

flowing
sidewalk raise banks
to drains
cascading monk falls
following birds to sea
to be free—
the real macoy

how time flies—
wingless
as it is
leaving grooves
with unseen notes
screaming
night and day melodies
exploding 
like cannonballs
sliding out and up
bursting
a staccato rife
pounding



drifting away
to return
when words wish
to play again
an up tempo write
as pure
as imagination
is—boo du 
de boo de boo

Abuse

Her hands are an earthquake,

Her eyes, waterfalls.

Her lungs are the wind,

She takes your words like cannonballs.

Way Back Then

Way back then when I was two,
I couldn't even tie my shoe.
But I could stand up on a chair
to retrieve my teddy bear.

Way back then when I was four,
I'd sneak out the doggie door,
cause the door latch was too high
for such a little guy.

Way back then when I was six,
I could really do some tricks.
I would climb way up in trees
and hang there from my knees.

Way back then when I was eight,
I sure loved to roller skate.
It was always quite a thrill
to go flying down a hill.

Way back then when I was ten,
I for swimming had a yen.
From a cliff beside the falls
I did lots of cannonballs.

When I think of stuff I did
when I was just a kid,
I'm stumped how one so bold
could end up getting old.

January 23, 2016

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