Hundredfold Poems | Examples

As He Disappears into the Fog

As he disappears into the fog, forgiveness fills my soul.
I feel the love come back to me, my heart growing hundredfold.

As he disappears into the fog, I feel anxiety leave.
I feel an astounding sense of peace overflowing in me.

As he disappears into the fog, the bitterness is suddenly gone.
The joy and laughter I've now found makes the bitterness feel so wrong.

As he disappears into the fog, the goodness is overwhelming.
The kindness in my heart and soul has become so compelling.

As he disappears into the fog, by now he's traveled deep.
I feel the patience swell within as I lay it all at His feet.

As he disappears into the fog, the fog so thick and dense,
this self control I am now feeling is starting to make sense.

As he disappears into the fog, I pray he stays in there.
For him to come back to me is more than my soul can bear.

As he disappears into the fog, into the dark abyss,
I find comfort in knowing these gifts from Jesus will not go amiss.

Quintessential Romantic Mirror

Victorian mirror was extraordinarily romantic
women who discovered her were never disappointed
their wishes came true after her purchase
men flocked to them, for their desirability was heightened
a hundredfold

Fate Love and Coffee

Fate, love, and coffee
turned into substitutable
with reminiscences,
Striving to be free from
cacophonous relics gifted
by your poisonous love
will my violaceous lyrics
mend my wounds, I urge you
a hundredfold of which you
allow no response,
I hold a bleeding soul, but you spurn
degrading you detects me though,
however, we can still endure any spell.

Love Is My Prop

Love is my Prop
I've fallen in love with a four wheeled prop
And I am walking along with a bop
I thought long and hard
Now it's my safeguard 
Together we make a gruesome bellhop.

I wondered maybe it'd make me look old
But then perhaps I am old, all things told
I feel quite sprightly
Now stand uprightly
Things have improved a hundredfold, I'm sold.

They do say that pride comes before a fall
I’ll tell you that is true for one and all
With my wheels I shop 
Held up by my prop
Furthermore we’re in for quite a long haul.
4th March 2022

Stitch These Painful, Open Wounds

Stitch these painful, open wounds:
fate is something one chooses;
many faces stare and frown...
not an ounce of pity is shown!

I won't ever finish my final score,
I'm another ship stranded offshore;
I've helped other take lift their weight...
until they safely got to their gate!

Not a thankful word I got in return,
not even a handshake as a reward;
risks were a possible hundredfold...
was silence too frightful to mourn?

Stitch these painful, open wounds,
there won't be other serene days;
dreary skies reflect actual life...
they'll march and play the fife! 

I'm too good, I'm too kind;
they give me the thumb down:
reason with the shrewdest mind...
keep afloat and never drown! 

Stitch these painful, open wounds,
am I to blame for all the deaths?
My body was a heavy armor shield;
I can still hear that horrible sound!

Autumn's Auburn Rustic Dust

AUTUMN'S AUBURN RUSTIC DUST

When with closed eyes in Autumn's eves of gold,
She breathes in the blades of orange-yellow,
Looking for that 'something' called auburn rust,
Halting mid suntanned trees hundred years old..

Who is like her, amiable yet bold?
Tenderly she walks on slivers of brown,
Silently searching through caramel paths,
Out there with the rustling leaves hundredfold..

What in the crimson world does she behold?
Slowly, she slows her slow sleepy saunter,
Carbuncle foliage unveils her face - 
Jocund with an extra mile smile unrolled..

Wherefore does it shower russet-brown mould?
See, she has found her Autumn dust mellow,
Yippee! How she jumps now with joy untold!



03/16/2020
Lines to Awaken Your Muse 2 Contest 
Sponsor: Joseph May

Line 4: When with closed eyes in autumn's eves of gold

I'Ll Take the Gray Canvas

I'll take the gray canvas and paint it, 
To make life Shine a hundredfold. 
Every day I will decorate with a palette. 
I will weave pearls of rewards in them. 

I'll go through memory like a rainbow, 
Paint a black-and-white movie, 
I'll paint all the tablecloths white, 
And I'll throw my sadness away. 

I will erase the gray color from the canvas, 
Its texture will be thrown out of memory. 
I'll make a new hundred tomorrow, 
And can be in orange ornament. 

I'll paint a mental light bulb 
To burn them even in the night 
And they warmed my tender fingers 
And sent the sad away.

Daughter's Wedding Advice

DAUGHTER'S WEDDING ADVICE

An old woman once spoke to her young daughter
who was soon to be a bride.
The icing is not the body, but the spirit.
The body is the cake that the spirit covers.
This combination cannot be given away without meaning,
not even if the intent is honorable,
nor should it be eaten before it is time.
The cake is considered of more importance than the icing,
but the icing contains its flavor and richness,
increasing the value of the cake a hundredfold,
thereby determining its worth.
A poor icing not only ruins the beauty of a cake;
it robs it of its sweetness of spirit.
Remember, my child, the lasting ingredient
that permeates the whole body is the soul.
With that last word, the old woman left her daughter
to be alone with her thoughts.

Janet Marie Bingham

The Happines Club

Okay ya gotta think happy
It's the only way to fly
Sad stuff isn't welcome here
Giggles are in big supply

Only smiles and happy faces
Are welcome to cross this threshold
Happy talk is all that's spoken
Benefits are a hundredfold

You're not dreaming I promise
It's a happy state of mind
You'll never ever want to leave again
A resident for the rest of time

Wonder why you didn't visit sooner
Wasted years on the other side
With life up to now, don't need to worry
You've sure got nothing to hide

We welcome you into this club of ours
We think you should fit right in
Honored and thankful we trust you'll be
Just always wear a dirty big grin

Braggart Batons and Sombre Sorties

In my mind somber sorties unfold
When morbid movements scar a hundredfold.
Normalcy dead, transparency scared
Empathy bearded, intransigence endeared. 

In my mind sordid scenes grow cold
When vulnerable voices no longer hold.
Brash brands undead, harsh hustles prepared
Phantom forces deployed, evil enamels ensnared.

In my mind torrents of tears no longer dry
Victory vessels victimize, vile victuals bereft of shame fly.
Flies on excrement multiply, sties of scorn sniggle
Spies of blame bloom, pies of putrefaction giggle.

In my mind orifices and offices of ordure spy
Voices of Hades hustle, choices of straitjackets sigh.
Worms of wilderness sparkle, whiffs of death dodge
Squids of insanity soar, weeds of vanity splurge.

Collecting Tribute

Kings of the earth demand payment,
they are like horse leaches crying: give, give
Never are they ever satisfied,
never do we ever give enough
Rulers love to collect tribute
to build their war playthings
We hate the vexation of taxation,
and all the hardships that it bring
What we pay out in blood, sweat and tears money,
is supposed to come back to us a hundredfold
But the kings of the earth, like greedy dogs,
they wanna keep it all
Paying your taxes is a given,
collecting tribute is a time-honored oppressive act
Obedience to the crown is the key to free living,
but give to God the things that belong to Him —
This is a spiritual fact: 
We must never forget to pay that

In Praise of Termites

The termite culture's rich and vast, 
more so, sometimes, than humankind, 
with martyrs and mujahideen, 
and projects ponderous yet precise, 
and back-up plans, a hundredfold. 
How do they do it? 

Society is based on caste, 
with tasks and territory assigned 
by social rank. Some watch, some wean, 
some whittle, weave, ward off, entice, 
while food for all is fairly doled. 
How do they do it? 

Their architecture's unsurpassed, 
with geodesic shapes, designed 
with opulence almost obscene, 
and altruists. Self-sacrifice 
is common. And they mine for gold! 
How do they do it? 

Hardly least and never last, 
over her subjects (all of them blind) 
there reigns a massive, fertile queen, 
releasing pheromones (how nice!) 
She lives to forty-five years old! 
How do they do it?

On Mountain Cold

He wed his fate on mountain cold,
Where now she kneels on blood-stained snow.
He journeyed far, his love to hold.
He wed his fate on mountain cold,
their moments - gems - seemed hundredfold. . .
before the cawing of the crow.
He wed his fate on mountain cold,
Where now she kneels on blood-stained snow.

Sept. 24, 2016 for Nicola Byrne's  Movie Mania - Romance Poetry Contest
Inspired by a moving scene in one of my favorite romantic movies Cold Mountain
See "About Poem" to view part of the sad scene this is based on.
Also see the beautiful love scene where they kiss!

He Died To Save

He came to save.
But the cross was the crux
Of the Father's dire demand.
So he went.

He came to give life,
But was lifted, left on a tree,
Hanging in the singeing sun.
So he died.

He came to reap,
But the fruit must first die,
Buried in the belly of the earth.
So he budded..

He sprouted the third day,
Fruited—a hundredfold, and more.
Still fruiting because
He came to save.

His Blessings

Moment soon the soul whimper,
                 Hesitate to touch mighty feet;
Lose mettle idle crafty plot hover
                 And steep mind loyal rational heat:
Sure cling he each bums bend,
By stretching own hands smugly surround.


Neither sophism could impress him;
                 Nor pile of offering delight,
Need not hold, pity merge gleam,
                 His traces are above all bright,
His hideous growl exposes hazard dis-quest
His blessings washes our shabby resist.


When some receive his blessings...
                 Look hundredfold ideas dense success;
Distrust not life shows dreary happenings
                 Seem sadden cry in screaming guess,
Haply disturb prudent at perplexity wink
What promotes occult utilitarian ward link.

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