I travelled hours, hours and hours.
The rusty ornate gate groaned,
a path hued green moaned to me,
as the trees whispered and wept.
Then, I stood at that cold grave,
of my loved ones deep engraved.
After . . . I let my grief weep !
Categories:
groaned, family, grief,
Form: Verse
Great American Literature
Our bookshelf groaned under the weight
of American Literature, and my mother was
principally a communist.
An American Tragedy, I read at fourteen,
and my fascination with A Bridge over San Louis Ray
was endless, and so it went on.
I joined the youth wing of the communist party
of Norway, it lasted a month; they kicked me out
I knew too much to be useful.
The plight of the poor concerns me, and I bristle when
seeing injustice, in short, I will fling my arms around
a horse that is about to be flogged, yet one doesn`t
need to be a communist for this. Kindness is not
political and doesn’t carry a flag, you have to pledge
allegiance to, a friendly smile will suffice.
Categories:
groaned, absence, black african american,
Form: ABC
I turned to look back, feeling anxious as I stood
"by the squeaky old gate that tomorrow will find."
Was there someone there watching me?
The gate creaked shut, echoing the taint of guilt
That I hoped no one heard.
Earlier I came through this gate to meet you in the woods.
It was rusty, stuck shut, and needed a heavy shove to open.
It reeked a somber reluctant groan, trying to stop me.
But, I would have nothing of its rattle, grind and snag.
I pushed it aside, and walked into the woods along the winding path.
The gate hung its head, trying not to see what it knew I'd do.
It looked up and sighed and rusty hinges creaked,
as the victim died and cried out, ambushed in the woods.
I turned back to retrace my steps, afraid of being watched.
I could feel it in my bones, though nothing was there to see.
As I approached the open gate it seemed that it had moved
every so slightly, impeding my escape through it.
It groaned, rattled, creaked with a clang of defiance
embellishing a subtle vibrato in the concordance of guilt.
The deed was done, the dirge was sung, the gate sprung, shut.
Categories:
groaned, cry, grief, sound,
Form: Free verse
the field groaned
when the seeds were p
l
a
n
t
e
d
now it's a beauty
Categories:
groaned, beautiful, beauty, garden, symbolism,
Form: Haiku
The teacher said, ‘Back in five minutes,’ before leaving the room
His students groaned, ‘half an hour’ meant ‘soon’
The time crawled by, the class dwindled to one
‘Still here?’ teacher asked ~ ‘Next class hasn’t begun’
Categories:
groaned, america, student, teacher, time,
Form: Couplet
Bumble bee in search of rose to convey its love,
although it was warned of thorns guarding rose.
All advised , better to choose other blossoms.
Bumble bee groaning flapping wings continuous
flying free frolic in garden.
Jasmine, Cosmos, Sunflower, Gardenia greeted
Flamboyant clusters , Marigolds in row nodded.
Flower to flower It fled on ceaseless groaning,
touched sepals, petals, groaned and groaned till came too close,
put nose to rose, and then stopped.
It kissed in best bliss and started to sip
sweet nectar.
Its dormant dreamy desires got fulfilled.
Thirst of bumble bee, not to be quenched elsewhere.
Its ardent ardour is ready to bear pricks of thorns
but to win beauty queen.
Categories:
groaned, desire, passion,
Form: Narrative
A walk to the park
The crisp morning air
There’s frost on the ground
A chill everywhere
Squirrels scurry about
From here to there
They notice me not
I’m needn’t a care
Sitting alone
…those four wooden chairs
Waiting for me
And calling me there
Eight chains frozen
…hanging straight and so tight
Awaiting all burdens
From one winter’s night
Wooden and cold
…but just right for thee
She squeaked and groaned
Then waited for me
I gripped her links
…what was my plan
Push back - release
Or do all I can
I looked to the heavens
…then in front of me
Another man standing
His chance to speak
Needn’t a jingle
…or even a sway
My time has passed
Send wisdom his way.
Categories:
groaned, character, devotion, emotions, forgiveness,
Form: Rhyme
Inspired by the Onomatopoeia Contest (2024), sponsored by Emile Pinet.
Mid-day invaded my spirits with blah.
I sauntered the path to the coffee shop
and heard my friends blabbing on endlessly,
astir with the recent barista flop.
I swallowed a mouthful of latte,
gagged and gargled with an unwanted flush
of caramel nut crème tickling my throat.
It made my gustatory senses gush.
After much gurgling, I gulped and groaned,
spilling the foamy froth with a loud plop.
My spirits sizzled and snapped
with the luscious last loud drop.
Having quenched my fraudulent thirst
I selfishly, yet successfully, bashed
the doleful doldrums that attended me.
I hiccupped along home and crashed.
Categories:
groaned, drink, onomatopoeia, words,
Form: Quatrain
it began with a creak,
low and hollow,
as if the staircase exhaled a secret
meant only for me.
at first, i told myself it was nothing—
just the old bones of the house shifting,
just the wind brushing the eaves.
but then came the whisper:
soft, deliberate,
threading through the night like cold fingers.
“come closer,” it said.
i stayed still.
the air thickened.
my heart tapped out a rhythm of warnings,
but my feet moved anyway,
dragged by some unseen thread.
the stairs groaned louder with every step,
their song ancient, mournful, alive.
at the bottom, the dark opened wide—
a void where the walls used to be.
and there, in the center,
a door i had never seen,
its edges slick with something
that shimmered even in shadow.
my hand trembled as it touched the handle,
a warmth pulsing beneath my palm.
the door opened,
and i saw—
no, felt—
a thousand eyes turn toward me.
i slammed it shut,
but the whispers remain.
they follow me now,
each night,
each dream,
calling me back to the stairs.
Categories:
groaned, dark, horror,
Form: Free verse
It was late at night, and
everything was dead quiet.
Only in the unruly city
Did people create a riot.
On the side, straw was scattered;
A baby pika crawled in.
His stomach rumbled;
He was on a forced diet.
All around was silence,
But he hid in some straw.
Two shivering people crawled in.
The baby pika looked in awe.
Still, the night was silent.
As the woman lay down.
She emptied her things,
A swaddling cloth and a gown.
Soon, she was to give birth.
The baby pika groaned in despair.
The babe was born,
The cow shed was filled with celestial light.
Heavenly music filled the manger,
Angels flew above in adoration.
Hail, the Saviour, was born
For everyone of any nation.
Even the baby pika felt elated,
And wondered what he should do.
As shepherds came to adore,
The baby pika just joined the queue.
Categories:
groaned, christmas,
Form: Rhyme
The highlights of the Jersey Shore
like a bone beach, they were no more
along with the loved Ferris Wheel
that kids looked forward to with zeal.
The sounds of music, loud and clear
along the boardwalk, all would hear,
and to the Wheel, the kids would run;
for generations- had such fun.
Most kids and grandkids knew the thrill-
that Wheel spun round- was never still.
Until one day, Two-Thousand-Twelve,
the old-time joys would then be shelved.
When "Sandy Superstorm" arrived
not much within the park survived.
The sound of kids and music stopped-
with roars of wind and sea were swapped.
The howls of wind did make their rounds,
replacing joyous, happy sounds;
made a bone beach of storm debris-
that moaned and groaned for all to see.
This famous park's old Ferris Wheel
that kids looked forward to with zeal
the highlights of the Jersey Shore-
like a bone beach- they were no more.
Categories:
groaned, beach, emotions, nostalgia, storm,
Form: Couplet
At first, you watched in awe
Observing the impact of WORD
Mountains moved
The Earth groaned
The Ocean Roared
...in silence
It got old, quickly
As your feet moved
Darting from ear to ear
Stirring up your brew
Bringing boiling water
...to whistle
Put your money
Where your mouth is
And so silver
Dropped upon the table
Of thirsty men
...to purchase
A god without a name
No notoriety to blame
Deliverance and healing
Of nobody from nowhere
...to sing
Dead and gone
Followers pinned down
No one will rise
When ink and pen resound
...twisted truth
You gnawed the tongue
With deeds of terror
Making children bow
To sowing your seed
...in gall
The one place
You couldn't touch
In the process of Word's
Natural death
...gives LIFE eternal
Written by Trudy Schrader on 06-19-2024
Note: Six means: Marriage (spiritual)/Family (natural), Five means Ministry (spiritual)/Work (natural), and Four means Direction (Spiritual)/ Order (natural)
Categories:
groaned, wisdom, words,
Form: Free verse
Collaboration between: Jack Horne and Sara Kendrick
The elevator's getting full,
but more are stepping in;
I'm in between two gentlemen
and wishing they were thin.
The lift opened on the sixth floor
My mouth agape in shock
There stood twenty grown men crushed in
Ten had hens and no socks
And then appeared a group of girls,
and each had heavy bags.
The doors about to shut again,
I saw a man with flags.
Pressed the close button quickly when
Someone started to sneeze
All those snotty particles flew
I was trapped in the breeze
Oh, no - another sneeze I heard,
and groaned as someone fluffed...
Enough-I'd Walk, despite the steps.
That lift was overstuffed!
Categories:
groaned, humor,
Form: Rhyme
The ancient organ groaned
ended the passion
- bitter vinegar tones
pierced the walls
Heart had lost its fire
The prophets rubbed their heads
wisdom at any time and place
Overly high hopes
Resignation found in a
cast iron saucepan
The criteria for organ donors
are clear
~
Bell tower mourns
Categories:
groaned, giving, humorous, leaving, life,
Form: Free verse
When Jesus Comes
When His steps descend among the stars,
When Jesus walks upon the earth within us that struggles,
seas of raging darkness lose their fury between the edges.
His arrival brings silence upon the inner storms,
a peace that settles softly, like white flakes in the azure horizon,
when Jesus steps, piercing pains become precious stones.
The zephyr of long vigil nights breathes,
When the Savior walks among us,
the dizziness of the restless soul is calmed in waves of solace,
that cradle thoughts like leaves slumbering under the moon,
and we encounter grace, as a splendorous garment worn,
when He chooses His step in our unfinished dream.
And choirs of silent years are heard in the twinkling of open eyes,
When Jesus descends into the depths of the struggling being,
in our hearts, where darkness was, a new torch is lit,
in the breast that once groaned under weight, a hymn is woven,
and the Soul of the Earth hears comfort flourishing,
when Jesus, in mystery, lifts the eased cross high.
Categories:
groaned, fantasy,
Form: Free verse
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