'While stranded high and dry
unemployed skippers ate a lot of kippers'
which smacks of a red herring to me
is a tale told when we were but nippers
altho' with neither fowl nor feline
in a beautiful pea-green boat
the motley crew who put to sea
were assuredly safe and sound when afloat
but then as ocean water rose within
thereby a somewhat large hole revealing
the now woeful matelots felt dreadfully unhappy
as they smelt a strange yet serious sinking feeling
for sadly a rather bad leak had sprang in the bilge below
and their ship went down like the proverbial stone
so the jobless captains fared far better
as landlubbers secure ashore home on their own
Long, wide, vast, high, dreadfully deep protective walls
Battlements, ramparts, bulwarks, and tower folders
Living quarters, arrow slits, gatehouses, and halls
Monstrous walls built as though with steel-alloy boulders
Water-filled deep massive moats to obstruct the foes
Bastions and merlons within majestic meadows
Forts and castles are mysteries of histories.
They are focal themes of bewildering stories.
“You can’t do that”.
“That’s too difficult for you”.
“You’re not intelligent enough”.
“You won’t know what to do”.
Please don’t take my dreams away
Don’t doubt me before I can even start;
I have confidence in myself
I believe in myself
My dreams come straight from my heart.
It’s hard for me each day to be optimistic
When you are repeatedly and dreadfully pessimistic.
Just let me have my dreams
No matter how impossible to you they may seem;
We all need to have belief in something
We all need to have a dream.
Who knows, maybe someday I’ll make my dreams come true;
I will have a smile on my face while I say,
“See? My dreams ARE achievable!
I told you”!
The pop group Heatwave, it seemed to me
(in 1970)
was dreadfully dull and boring too
(not at all incendiary)
so, with breath control and mind over matter,
(it didn't matter as I didn't mind)
to liven up the act and give it something new,
after much practice and repeating,
using self-made torches soaked in paraffin,
I taught myself how to do fire eating
and late that summer became
(tho' only the drummer)
'Keeper Of The Flame'.
Once, while on stage performing,
some sceptic in the audience shouted, "That's not really hot,"
so, determined to put him in his place
(he deserved all of what he got)
I gave him quite a fright when I flashed the flames in his face.
Then, '77 one fearful night in Bright Eye Band wearing tights
(a.k.a., Smooch on Halloween)
throwing all caution to the wind, as it was gauged just right,
the draft from a fan blowing across the stage set my hair alight.
Although not what I call apropos,
I survived, came out alive, but what a way to close the show.
I remember, oh how I remember
The days were now long gone.
Oh. How we loved to meander
Along the paths that winded
The slopes of our hill sides,
Where fragrant firs and larches
Embellished the surrounding hills.
Oh, how I remember the ambience,
The exotic finches flying from tree to tree,
Their luscious serenades echoing around,
While my love and I would stroll over cobbles
Our hands entwined in limitless love.
We’d kiss and hug as we would stop
To hear the lullabies of the finches fine.
I remember, oh how I remember
The day we went to a large store
When she suddenly fainted and fell.
The trip to hospital was long and traffic
Was congested. I held her hand while
The paramedics did their best. What was wrong?
She did not survive. Dreadfully, I could only cry.
Leader of Peanuts gang Charlie Brown
Plays mean football without backing down
But when main crush Red Haired Gal arrives
He dreadfully runs...attacked by hives!
As yellow leaves wither in the autumn breeze,
only apathetic thoughts remain
in this nonchalant existence of
my diseased body and over the hill mind!
It reminds me a time of agility,
A time of struggle and celebrations,
An age when dreams of a better future bloomed,
And leaping up those stairs to pluck the petals of success.
The illusion of youth, believing I would remain the same forever,
My beauty, once admired by the mirror,
My body, that lied about its boundless strength,
And the willpower that upheld my beliefs!
Now, my poor mind, dreadfully distressed,
on the fritz of my worn body parts.
Here I am, at the dusk of my life,
panting and staring at the steep stairs
called ‘rest of my time’!
I wonder, are there any tears left
to cry over the memories of my vigorous days?
Or, has time swallowed even the sorrow, leaving only silence?
fine pOwder
O
what a pleasant
mOrning
intake
cOffee
eee…ew
keep the dOOr
clOsed
bathe
the steps & car
thOse
hazardous
areas
the mat
underfOOt
handle
that can drive
yOur nOse
craz…eee
O
what blOOming
daffOdils
willOws
wisteria
bradfOrd pears
O
my
eyes
see
flOaters
flOtsam
pOllen I thOught
swiping at my hair
nOt gnats drats
strangers with wings
O
Spring
we sing
sOngs of thee
hutchOO
and
eee…ew
sO
beautiful
tOOdOOlOO
tO the cOld
sOlidly sOld
On glOrifying cOlOrs
hutchOO eee…ew
O
my
Spring’s
dreadfully beautiful
At the Spitfire factory love was found
Not long before off to war I was bound
To do my duty to God and all those
Whose lives were dreadfully threatened by foes.
I joined the army, though aptly afraid
Meeting up with a brave band of comrades
There I trained to become an engineer
Fixing motors, an army gadgeteer.
It was horrific in the mist of war
Sounds of bombs exploding, gunshots galore
Sleep didn't come comfy, the nights were unkind
Missing home and the love I'd left behind.
We were married when I came home on leave
Soon some sensational news I received
Our first, and only child was on the way
Joy filled my heart on that historic day.
War ended, our family was complete
I held the son I'd been longing to meet
From that day on life was pure utter joy
For me, my wife and our bonnie young boy.
* * *
Walter Edmonds
What are you thinking all alone, my dear
As you sit worried by your fire so bright
Do you reflect on the bad days of yore
While you stare at the red flickering flame
Is there something from your past that you fear
So you try to keep the dark out with light
As over nightmare memories you pore
And wonder who was there really to blame
One painful memory should not so sear
Which still haunts you dreadfully through the night
Striking deep within into your heart's core
With all the horror of a deadly game
Many of us share such memories sore
And suffer sleepless nights in senseless shame
I pity the refugee’s road of flight,
the children of the shanty and the gun
who on all humanity are a blight -
who die or live unto be an orphan.
I pity the meagre, the forgotten
who a crisis of ravages endure,
whose fate is that of the misbegotten
and whose need is now, real, grave, just, and raw!
I pity the terrorised, the wartorn,
the sacked and conquered that bury their dead -
the child bride, the child slave still to be born
and alas the lost soul already bred.
I pity the brave girl I used to know
and wonder dreadfully where did she go?
Written: August 2006
in our darkest dreams
there lurks a sullen shadow
dreadfully daunting
a wispy presence
with the face of transgression
tirelessly haunting
waiting to enter
the chamber of our deep sleep
to begin taunting
laughing as it leaves
after planting a nightmare
with evil flaunting
from the dazzling dusk till darkest of dawn
demons deliver their delicate song
a dreadfully dance delightfully done
for daunting the dead delinquent the sun
a daring dull day dismissive of night
it dwindled the dark then demanded light
singing songs out loud in the open
loving life even when it's broken
hating how easy it can be
for people to walk all over me
screaming at screens
dying in dreams
tearing me down dreadfully
there's too much to give
I can't hold it in
but my cup is empty
nobody's willing to help me
where must i go
who must i seek
for all the strength must come from within me
what do I do
it hurts massively
I love love but love doesn't love me.
Dear Fellow Poets,
I urge you to read the short paragraphs below, and if you are so inclined, to contact your congressperson immediately. YOU CAN make a difference.
Israel is dreadfully short of weapons and military equipment for the 300,000 reservists it has called up in the last 24 hours to counter the unprecedented terror attack visited on it for the past three days.
A communique to me from Rachel Levy, a liaison for Garin Tzabar, the organization which supports lone soldiers (like my son Daniel Wolf) in Israel, reports hundreds of soldiers being asked to report for duty with ordinary hammers, as weapons (!)
Unfortunately, no new U.S. funds can be authorized for Israel without a new Speaker of the House in place. (All legislation and appropriations are hung up, by the way, not just emergency aid to Israel).
So, please contact your congressperson today. Ask him/her/they to move with all possible haste to choose a new Speaker of the House of Representatives.
Thank you for your reading, and for any and all support forthcoming.
Blessings, Gershon Wolf
P.S. Prayers are extremely helpful as well. ~ gw
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.