Forbears Poems | Examples

Secrets

The secrets of a mother are gemuine and true
The sufferings of a father go beyond the grass on yohr feet but are always untold
I struggle with my father’s footsteps
Sometimes I walk a little straighter but the booze is juat so sweet,
To what is left off me is for my and omly forbears.

I Saw Your Face

Saw your face and noticed
The reflection in your eyes. 
And peered into your lovely soul
As well as the hidden lies.
I know they tried pulling away
Your heart from mine
But I knew that if I stayed
Our love would bring you back in time

(Her- "I wanted to run, I wanted to hide
I really couldn't rend his heart, 
By telling him I lied.")

Darling, come closer and feel
My warmth. It will surely heal 
The scars your struggles have left
If this road you've chosen
Means that we'll be broken,
Know that I'll always be okay.


(Her- "When I returned, he was distraught.
I saw him worried, if not
Angered. Yet 'soon as he saw my face
His heart melted, his arms beckoned    me to an embrace.")

Love is patient, even in ferocity
It is gracious in it's generosity.
Love forbears, it is kind
Love sees the heart,
 though people say it's blind.
                -Enosh Koshy

Shaky Spear

How did Shakespeare acquire that name,
Many years ago
Were his forbears cowards
And is this why it's so
Shakespeare is not a common name
I don't think so anyway
I am curious from whence it came
I would like to know

Spears are weapons
Seldom used today
In the time of Shakespeare
They were, I'm sad to say
Men had to fight,
Be strong and brave
Kill or be killed
If you want to save,
The lives of your kith and kin

Maybe the Shakespeares
Were afraid to fight
Nervous people
Who could not stand the sight
Of blood and did not want to go to war
The thought of throwing a Spear to kill
Made them shake and nauseous and ill
Perhaps it was the same for Will
Who becomes a famous poet
In later years.
He had inherited these fears
I suppose, who knows.

Excavator Gave Him Navigator

That’s the job that gave him Navigator
After goodbye to Lift Operator;
Months on the TV as Moderator
And a US firms Gum Distributor…

But Bruce had not wanted Excavator,
Rather Peace-Keeping as Mediator:
“All these awkward passions for artifacts
And choosing to celebrate old facts:
Inquisitive shovels disturbing soil  
One might think one is prospecting for oil;
Forbears working on their forgotten face: 
Intriguing findings they’d championed the race”.

From excavation grabbed ventilator,
Also, a machine with indicator
And soon a mansion with elevator;
Impenetrable to terminator…

Still, Brice’s true love: his black navigator
The Jeep he drives dressed like Gladiator:
Smart, American with fine radiator…

Cornwall Is My Homeland

Cornwall is my homeland
And it will always be,
A large part of it surrounded,
Surrounded by the sea.

Cornwall is my homeland,
It’s where my roots are deep,
And this connection with my forbears,
I feel a strong desire to keep.

Cornwall is my homeland,
Of me it is a part,
For it resides within my soul
And is branded in my heart.

Cornwall is my homeland,
It’s where I will always stay,
And when my days are over,
It’s where I will surely lay.

Women In Chains Then and Again

UNDER THE GLASS CEILING part 1

Mary and Angelica ,ladies of great renown
Painters extraordinaire in Ol' London town
Still life,portraits & history on a grand scale-
Left out of a group painting because they were not male !

NOTE Mary Moser & Angelica Kauftmann help to found the R & A but were left out of the 1770's painting of Academicians .There were to be no other women members until 1922.

UNDER THE GLASS CEILING part 2
    
Forbears,Edie,Kate and Ann 
furnished with brush and pan.
Each a Victorian 'Miss' 
tied in service's  abyss.

NOTE Upstairs and down stairs ,no in between,just thirteen and just there to please as Master and Lady take their ease.

THROUGH THE GLASS CEILING 

Deborah,God annointed Judge&Prophetess
a matriarch,overseer of men,..no less;
Mary,at Jesus feet,studied...just as a man
in Christ there is no gender ban

My Desk

MY DESK

At me station
Where I am bound,
And found
Most days,
Where words wander,
In and out of thoughts that pander,
To where for some
I am poet of writing down,
Lines of hope, love, quotes, and notes of thought,
Or otherwise you see,
I am historian, researcher, genealogist of forbears,
And back in time my attention is drawn figuratively
To the works of peasants and workers in fields,
Of others standing in the dock
Accused of stealing a half-penny’s worth of hope,
Or others who have risen up and struck against
The tyranny of mankind’s laws and religious views,
And for some they made the journeys
To another side of the flat earth believed at the time.
Then my role some days,
Can be literally
Counsellor to kids,
In my guise as dad over transfer of conversation tool,
But at me station most days,
I am distributing life to meet my needs
And to satisfy my wants,
Of feeling good,
Of feeling worthwhile,
That my day is constructed well
To the furtherance of soul
And my station most days I’m found.

Francis Cooper – Mac © 08-Jul-20

Hcs 5 'she Carries the Repentant Over the Floss'

FIVE

She carries the repentant over the floss…
As little children, wrapped in swaddling clothes,
She comforts them and helps them bear their loss
As gently as a shadow, so she goes…
Forgives the one who stole her golden coin,
Forbears to hurt the bullies who hurt her,
Forswears revenge, invites them all to join
Her in a jolly round-dance, ‘neath a fir…
For Heaven is a happy place where all
Our slips, and stabs, and slurs, and stares lie down,
Forgotten, while we deck the merry hall,
And everyone forgets to wear a frown!
And so, arrive the sojourners at last
To join the angels in joyful repast!

A Poetry Definition of Me

1.cinquain.- love at first sght

Adeaide Crapsey cinquain form first motivated my interest in poetry


2.imagist- viduage

Capturing an enigmatic  image into words upon my page my continuing inspiration


3.shortform. footle bonie&clyde


creating the footle form encapsulated my initial novice learning curve as a poet



4.openform-sound poems

Open form organic style marked the change in style to longer forms


5.tribute poetry- to be or not

my fascination for origins of inspiration leading to this form of poetry, in tribute to my forbears therein.


6.christian - litany prayer

My committed Christianity led me naturally to use God's poiema giftings


7.ekphrasis-descriptive the form

I discovered this form enabled me to combine my hobbies of art &poetry


8.found poetry -beyond love

The inspiration of others actual words enabled the creation of my unique poetry therefrom


9.humour/wit -silence for a clerihew

Light hearted poesie was a key   part of my formative discipleship as  a poet


10.love/passion -amatory ayre

Poetry is an natural  vehicle for  love expressions to my first & lasting
love of my life

In the Beginning a Family History

in the beginning
                    origins
                    sources
this world
the nations
His people
      a family story
an overture
of a nations forbears

space&time
          sequenced
of dark&light
           ordinance
of
sun&moon

an apparent meaningless
becomes
  an expressed will
as God
          called
distinct spatial
realities
appeared

sky water
       &habitats
in a firm
            earth
fertility
found a stage
human life
         the climax

a divine essence
                  together&
                          comparable
in an outward form
        spiritual
           moral
            rational
dominion
   over all
            until 
                      sin
temptation
emotion
&will surrendered
at
   the
        Fall

Below the Glass Ceiling An Ode

Forbears,Edie,Kate and Ann furnished apiece with brush and pan.Each 
Victorian 'Miss' tied in service's  abyss.Far off days,now long gone,their toil each 
day was lengthy and long.With fires to light,floors to scrub,and carpets to brush 
and drub.Mops forbidden,as they smeared the dirt and begrimed their prim 
alpaca aproned skirt.They cleaned 'his' tub,emptied 'her' commode,a regular 
chore in a housemaid's daily load.Must rise at six but never to mix and no matter 
what,keep a stiff upper lip.Never lose your cool,a formal curtsey the perpetual 
rule.Half day off once per month,so free to roam and catch the omnibus home.No 
other opportunities in store except a marriage at eighteen or before.Upstairs and 
down stairs ,no in between,starting out at just thirteen and just there to please as Master and his Lady take their ease.

Where Are You

Where Are You

I stand upon a precipice 
Where once a battle raged
Between just two... the rest of us
Still searches...unassuaged...

So many questions torment me
(I should or should not done)
A constant torch of agony 
Forbears a love unspun...

Still nothing fills this empty space 
Where promises once were
You vanished! Gone! Without a trace!
In echoes...now you stir...

Faint silhouettes lost in the dark...
Hope's murmurings decried...
This longing bleeds without a mark
Or traces...since you died. 


2.1.2017©deborah burch 


Quatrain

My Monsters

In the dark of night 
The monsters came
Creeping and creaking, 
Breathing my name.

Peeking through windows
Slipping under my bed
Upon closing my eyes
They entered my head.

Coming out of the fog
Intending to kill
Chasing and racing
Craving blood for a swill.

I’d wake to my screams
Coming out of my throat
Heart beating fiercely
Like a drum to the note.

Then they’d be gone
Heading back to the shadows
Waiting till dusk
Like death for the gallows.

They'd always be back
Taunting my mind
Scratching and scraping
Whenever inclined.

As I got older
They changed how they fed
Feasting on doubts
Their method instead.

Using my forbears
Their sins and their crimes
Planting the seeds
In the back of my mind.

Could the sins of the father
Be the sins of the son
Promoting the notion
Wrongs may be rerun. 

Could the demons from past
Walk to the future
Festering inside me
Much like a tumour.

Maybe this blood 
That courses my veins
Is genetically soiled 
Carries a stain.

So if you hear screams
In the dead of night
It’s me and my terrors
Please consider my plight.

Giant Animals - For Contest

the leviathan strides alone
greater than any other, 
he struts about the earth 
with the decadence of a predator
whose enemies are long gone

None other has risen so far, so quickly, 
beyond the crusted imagination
of his forbears, 
eons ago.

But beware, mighty one
For the day is at hand
when all of your works
and all of your  progress

will be brought to nought
as your underlings become
your eternal tormentors.
In the battle ‘twixt man and machine 
Machine wins.

Consider, Thou Brain

CONSIDER, THOU BRAIN

Would thou consider, Brain
How much is the worth
I have strived these many years
From childish curl to bristly grey hair
In other for thee to reason and 
Be the base of ingenuity to life?

For this, I schooled thee
Here and overseas in alien soils
Larning to enhance thy noesis
Journey round climes and sites
Of earth for thy exposure
And get thee conform to the times.

For thy sake I have subject
The other members to suffer 
From sleep, food and labour
From leisure and exercises
All for thy restless quest
To discover, know and create.

But thou hast not yet reached
The end of thy quest and suffer
With all thy conjectures.
Beware to what thy reasoning
Is leading unto…thy own demise
For there is no end to knowing.

Thou hast become apathetic 
And prone to apoplexy
With all features aged before time 
Because thou hast failed to realize
Einstein is common sense by which 
Thy crude forbears have rest!

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