Handed Down Poems | Examples

Anonymity

Authors of the scriptures remain unknown,
wisdom penned handed down from the ages,
pointing out the way each must walk alone,
escaping illusionary cages
and quelling fire that within heart rages.
All Upanishads have a simple aim:
to entwine us with God, in life’s end game.

Martha on the US Stamp

My theme is, “Martha Washington – but why?”
First Lady – how the Big Man’s wife behaves
was fixed by her: so Jackie Kennedy

was shaped by Martha. Coming through the rye,
we learn that some are heroes, others knaves,
and some deserve to live in infamy

but end up famous. Think of “Family Guy”,
the David Hasselhofs, the Flavor Flavs,
or Arnold (Benedict), or Syngman Rhee.

So what did Martha do, that I decry?
She prompted no contumely, made no waves:
she didn’t do a thing – and there’s the key.

She didn’t change the world. She didn’t try.
The wealth you didn’t earn is what depraves:
one of Virginia’s wealthiest was she!

The only thing her husbands did was die.
Though not exactly dancing on their graves,
she certainly enjoyed her liberty

and dead men’s money. Didn’t have to buy
a toothpick. Bricks and mortar, horses, slaves –
she got the lot. And slowly, by degree,

she handed down (for Martha was on high)
the stuff that each descendant always craves –
the loot. It went to Robert Edward Lee.

L The Communion of Saints and Forgiveness of Sins

“The Communion of Saints” is meant the union of the faithful on earth
The b;essed in Heaven
And the souls in the purgatory
With Father Christ as their Head
The word “Saints means “the holy ones”
The Baptism gives us the beginning of holiness
And Heaven is for those who are perfectly holy
By “the forgiveness of sins” in the Apostles Creed meant that Eternal God has given to the Church
Through Father Christ
The power to forgive sins
Father Christ gave the power to His Apostles
It has been handed down through the years to the priests of the Roman Catholic Church today

Cultural Mores Mirror

the moral landscape changes
with new blood surfacing
amplifying the flaws
inherent 
in the collective psyche

my ingrained prejudices 
bubble to the surface
harming 
my interaction with my fellow man

disagreeing 
with my elders
ancient scripts
based upon oral traditions 
faithfully handed down 
and embroidered upon 
to suit the occasion
holding a mirror up to my heart
I had to distil my own truth

I refrained 
from looking in the mirror
blaming 
the cultural mores 
for my current stance
turning a blind eye 
to the injustices 
and the crime
I must first practice to take the painful plank out of my own eye

before I could judge their truth
I failed to reason with my own

Rooted

Beneath the shade of a tree 
On a blanket handed down
In shoes that are too big still
And a yard with untouched ground
Someday you will stand 
To take your first steps here
Someday you will reach 
And climb the branches near

Atop the canopy of leaves
When you’re looking low
Peer upon a flower bed
With springtime seeds to sew
Soil riddling our nails
Someday you and I will plant 
You’ll offer to help with dinner
But I’ll still help you wash your hands

Cubby's

At Cubby's, the neon hums/
A beacon in the night/
A place for solace/
But now a source of plight/
I stood there, a truth on my lips, unplanned/
Asked the clerk to be kind, to lend a gentler hand/
But shadows lingered/
Where light should've been/
Through masks of smiles, deceit crept in/
Their whispers turned to chains/
Forged in lies/
A verdict handed down/
Under cold, accusing skies/
I wore the blame they skillfully wove/
Falsehoods cloaked me in stories/
They strove/
Banned from the aisles/
Where I once stood/
Falsely accused, misunderstood/
No one to believe me, no.ear to hear/
The loneliness sharp/
The injustice clear/
At Cubby's, the neon hums/
As it always will/
But it's glow feels colder/
The world now still/

In Perpetuity

Offensively defensive posturing
No stopping in sight
No reflection in view

Poisonous to everyone around you
Syphoning greed at record speed
Unchecked unseen
Hollowing the land

Blindly defending your position
Against any raised hand
Any voice of reason

How did we even get here?

We’d have to go back
160 years or so
To explain what should have been buried
A hatred left to fester
A war lost but never truly ended

We rebel against suppression
Understandably so
Sometimes history demands it

An opportunity was missed

The undercurrent of hate
Bubbled up unchecked
A backlash exacted
160 years in the making

A theft imagined
A grievance never real
Where ignorance never left

A way of life
Thought to be put to rest
Was allowed to linger
Civilly unbalanced
Cutting down and
Cutting short lives

The symbolism
The sentiment
Front and center once again

Stirring old fears
Handed down like inheritance

Times change
Some things stay the same

Worse than the hate
Is the silent acceptance

Silence is a choice
One we can break

Abomination

Abomination

I wonder what it means to be called an abomination
and if this has any relationship to being a damnation,
as there must be certain things that people do in deserving condemnation
which go against all reasonable human laws and are opposed to salvation.

If what has been handed down from the past is any indication
then we are somehow all obliged to follow with a dedication,
for our own sake and that of all our so called many relations
who are subject to the same weaknesses, trials and temptations.

To some it may seem there need not be any restriction
which will generally only incur a justifiable conviction
for any laws broken and usually dealt with a harsh sanction
when blame or guilt can be done away with by a transaction.

There are so many things people do without any justification
except to satisfy their own sense of individual expectation
especially where the actions done are without any provocation
against a fellow human being who’s an object of victimization.

___________________________

Thanks, Sorry, I Love You - Thirty-nine Minutes

I accepted the sentence, handed down by the judge,
got thirty-nine minutes to live; he wouldn't budge.
I should read more carefully, but I understand,
just one line per minute is all he will demand.
I wish I had time to write down every song
to play at my funeral, so folks can sing along.
There's a lot of things to say - things I never told.
There ain't much time left, no more reason to withhold.
Thank you, I'm sorry.  I love you. That covers it.
I would elaborate, but time does not permit.
So, now, I'm a happy man, and can die in peace.
Wait!  I'm not, somethin's gonna cause my life to cease!
Could it be an anvil or piano from above?
Maybe someone will shoot or just give me a shove.
Funny how words can take a life, they have such weight - 
but if so, they can give it back, now, ain't that great?
So, the first thing I'll tell you, without more ado -
thanks, I'm sorry, and most of all, I love you.

I Miss

I miss the days and nights
whether sun or rain
where I would run through a meadow of tall grass
   to reach the woods of Elm and Hickory trees
where a shallow rippling stream covered limestone rocks
   beneath a bridge of concrete and iron
where my boys and I would play
like mountain men, searching for beaver pelts
   building our small forts
to launch attacks from
before swinging on ropes we hung from tree limbs
   trying to be Tarzan
until we slowly headed home, searching for fossils
   along the banks of the stream, until dark
our small band of brothers, who thought we were mountain men
would always make it home to our mothers
   who waited for our return
with a hot tasty supper
made from old recipes handed down
these were the days of freedom
   it all passed so quickly...so quickly

Off day

Off Day

I try to write
And describe the colours of spring
But apart from my shoulders
Knotted and tight,
I can’t seem to feel - anything.
The sun may be smiling bright
But in my head, a heavy cloud
Blocking the promise 
Of warmth and light.
And the words 
In a handed down shroud,
Say I will always be worthless
And what I want, is just not allowed.

This weather inside 
Seems too cold and bleak 
For the “How are you” World outside.
And all I really want is to sneak,
Back to bed and hide.
I know I won’t,
But again weary and bleary eyed 
And comfortably numb 
I pretend,
To not hear the distant hum 
Of my soul like a lion once proud.
And blend,
Into the grey of the crowd
And I try avoid to descend 
Down to the misfit
That only wants to shout 
And scream out loud.

Sangeet Portals 2024

THANKFUL FOR THE ABILITY TO LAUGH

Today I’m thankful for our ability to laugh…
one of the many gifts handed down from our creators above….
and I pray all our laughter is genuine…
and spring forth from a place of love.

THE HEIR

THE HEIR

Beneath banners bold, a baby boy blooms,
His shaped realm royalty reign looms.
Heir to the hallowed, heartened throne room.
In his reign, a kingdom, he promised to prune.4

Tiny toes toward the tapestry tread,
Before the Queen Mother, his marbled path led.
His kingdom awaits, with bated breath & bliss,
A noble heir, designly destined for success.8

From his cradle, cradled with care,
To his preteen, prettily protected & père,
A princely presence, beyond compare.¹¹

In his eyes lies the witty wisdom of ages,
A lineage of leaders, handed down through stages.
From his tiny fingers, pure power shall flow,
Leading his kin & kingdom, with a gentle glow.¹5

Long live little one, as dreams take flight,
The throne awaits, cloaked in the night.
The future monarch's destiny is crystal clear.
The heir is here & the kingdom holds him dear.¹?

Crowned curls cradle, cherubic charm's cheer,
Stately son, sovereign small, so sincere.
Gazes gleam, as the gentle Queen grins,
For her future's found in her foremost kin.²³


Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
FORM: Alliteration/Rhymes 
Copyright ©? December, 2023.

Pull The Rug

Taking on an odd challenge - committed
Ideal forms, fired in keenest kiln
Trespass pages torn out, inmate omitted
Anguish arms, firm steely shield


Tigers eye eclipse rolls out a rosy moon
Rising icy on closed encyclopaedia 
Thick black book unlocks fabled fortune 
Weighty trust instilled immediately 


Figure of founding, supportive substance 
Dad proud serves duty’s obligation 
Blind mice sheltered held to his sentence 
Prickly wife handed down probation 


Gifted a ginger ring fingers, grand future
Lady Luck spun an oily halo roulette 
Leather bound night bite slim smile Luna
New moon on red her high fate met




           
           17th December 
           Sentence ended

So It Is Not Just Me After All

We persecute

Punish ourselves

Then accept whatever sentence

Handed down to us

For merely showing human kindness

Which we equate to weakness

Knowing also full well 

We have absolutely no 

And there is no form

Of appeal

Or salvation 

For those of us amongst us who

Try and care 

Yet it never seems to get us anywhere

But in the dock 

Standing accused

• Short Handed Down Poems
• Famous Handed Down Poems
• Best Handed Down Poems
• Read Handed Down Poems
• Long Handed Down Poems
• Handed Down Quotes