Long Cannon ball Poems
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In better times, Anders Throne once was
a good husband and loving father,
married to his sweetheart, Rosie Smith,
who’d grown on the Chesapeake waters.
He worked as a lawyer, was well renowned,
had a little boy by the name Chester,
if fate were just he would’ve lived out his days
and saw his happiness never perturbed.
But when the war with the north broke out
to his country he was compelled to stay true,
he said good-bye and stole away north,
marching to war with the boys in blue.
His father-in-law said "Good riddance!"
and moved his precious daughter away,
to a big mansion deep in Richmond,
where he felt she could safely stay.
The war dragged on, and in the end
Richmond found itself under siege,
all in the city knew things were rough,
that there was no real hope of relief.
Day after day the big guns did roar on,
a crashing hail of fire and shell,
until one April day when the Union struck
and the town of Petersburg fell.
Unable to hold Richmond any longer
General Lee led his army to the west,
but Anders, arched into the fallen town,
hoping somehow to find his dearest.
But cannons and not the most precise of things,
and when he reached her father’s home,
he saw cinders scattered, shards of broken glass,
from the hallway ceiling’s grand old dome.
He found an old slave who explain it all,
that whoever had been inside no was dead,
a cannon-ball had ignited a great blaze,
and they died of the smoke in their beds.
Anders collapsed when he heard the news,
and roared out his agony and pain.
He railed at God,”I fought to free people!
And as thanks you go take her away?!”
Bereft of his son and his dearest love,
he walked away right then and there,
deserted the army and wandered off,
if they hanged him he did not care.
He aimlessly started heading for the west,
and as he walked along he wound find
the ‘truth’ of it all, so clear and so crisp,
took over his grief-battered mind.
God cared not for the trials of men,
nor the world that he had once made.
The beasts had it right, take what you can!
Destroy any who gets in the way.
The only rules that mattered were anarchy,
laws of the jungle, ever cold and cruel.
He was done pretending that there was a point,
manners and honor were lies for the fools…
CONTINUES IN PART II
Rage, despair, grief, devastation and regret, flowing like
hot lava spewing out from a volcano through my veins,
pushing out my red hot blood onto this white leaf;
For suddenly and without any fair warning came,
an enormous black cloud that stationed itself overhead and
obstructed the sun from my first redwood seed in sprout
and with a great fury it released a violent torrent of rain,
drenching it completely, until alas my sapling did drown.
My budding redwood tree, destroyed before its time,
the damage is irrevocable and my sapling is no more.
Like a cannon ball shot from its cannon, fire shoots
from my mouth with all fierceness and in rage I roar….
“Who really is to blame for this unfathomable demise of
my precious sapling, my budding grand redwood tree?
Was it the black cloud with its tools of destruction or
the lack of assiduousness of those with their expertise?”
Yes, regretfully my sapling was not planted by the stream.
As a seed, in ignorance it was sown upon soil rocky and dry;
yet against all odds, my seed sprouted with some foliage,
but its roots did not run deep and so with the specialist I relied
to care and strengthen it so it could withstand the bad elements.
Sadly, they were specialists with an expert eye that could not see,
they were worthless and of no avail, lacking the assiduity needed,
for their eyes, mind and heart were blinded by their own greed.
Rage, despair, grief, devastation and regret, flowing like
hot lava spewing out from a volcano through my veins,
pushing out my red hot blood onto this white leaf.
For the black cloud is now set above me like a fixed stain,
with all might I struggle to escape it’s dreadful grip, but
still it hovers over me obstructing the sun from my days,
releasing a torrent of pain and in the agony of my loss it
drenches me and the answers to my questions are still opaque.
Oh...but take heed all you with your degree, my roots run deep,
I will not drown and like a raging bull I push forward so valiantly
for the lucidity of the answers, lucid as a glass made of crystal;
all for the love of my departed budding grand redwood tree.
Written by: Joan Marie Peranteau
copy written May 3, 2014
Dedicated to and written in regards to my beloved son;
Nathaniel Blaine Gibson
I’d like too invite all to be my guest
a dine of mindfulness and rhyme digest
a week of conflict now victory blessed
standing united to silence a pest
Since the last time you heard from me I was banned again
ran my mouth and pen and stand condemned
taking a time out as the site suspended
yet always polite to poets I’ve befriended
In my lifetime of few consistences
a sucker for trouble
not designed for resistance
never stuck in a bubble
don’t run nor crumble
my back’s up I stand tall
I’m one for the rumble
not decided but natural
I’m an alpha with a non fictional reaction
I can’t stray from friction I give it back to ‘em
They flint
I flame
retardants
don’t reign
Even with intense insistence I’m risky
back and forth witty hits get me frisky
I’m Jack Daniels confrontation’s whiskey
and as it ascends force
whistling me wolf
I submit my thoughts
with all above board
but as the war gets me bored
within my core recycled and restored
enemy amo pours out below par
firing missiles I go to far
through lost remorse
this one track horse
gallops the course
with overwhelming force
only to fail care and I fall where I fell before
Standing up squarely
Cus nobody scares me
then punished unfairly
cus I ain’t no fairy
Deemed out of line
as I mouth my mind
blow for blow with swines
or write down rhymes
I’ve got one finger for sign language
knowing 5 fold in flight damage
You’re not the first to run me down
I’m not one to get the boys around
“I know a lot of people” not my threat
get me vexed I come direct
Others rely on their made up crew
not me though mate I come straight for you
One minute you’re coming calling me chump
the next minute running Forest Gump
I’ve never experienced intimidated slumps
the altercation ignition leads me to jump
start the motor ticks, over being a victim
insults thrown deflect don’t sink in
get thrown back with hurt inflicting
stand his ground does Nick Trim
Will call us HMS Victory and him the birds eye on a French deck,
one cannon ball later he’s drenched in a shipwreck
So thanks to the soupers standing with me,
the victory with us not he,
again I say soupers standing with me
are the ones standing victoriously
Edward Kenway was a pirate
He sailed the Spanish Main
He plundered British merchant ships
And the Galleons of Spain
Once he was a farmer
He walked behind the plough
But now he ploughed the oceans deep
He was a pirate now
He started as a deckhand
Till his bravery won through
Then he became a captain bold
And ruled a pirate crew
He sailed into Nassau
And he took that town
It was then the British Government
Ruled they must take him down
One bright sunny morning
The fleet sailed into the bay
They were British Men of War
They were going to make him pay
But captain Kenway had a plan
He knew what they must do
He slowly drained his pint of ale
The stood to face his crew
Come on lads we'll to the fort
Make them taste the cannon ball
If we surrender now me boys
They'll surely hang us all
Kenway occupied the fort
Behind its strong stone walls
He knew he had the greatest chance
To make the British fall
He had a dozen cannons
Set toward the sea
He swore an oath upon his sword
That he'd keep Nassau free
The oath that he made to them
Did his men inspire
They all swore to do the same
As the British opened fire
They felt the ramparts shudder
As the heavy metal balls
Flew through the air and thudded
Into the fortress walls
But Kenway stood before his men
And this speech he made
Fire your cannons at them boys
Lets make them afraid
We will make them shake with fear
They'll turn and run and then
They will always rue the day
They messed with Kenway's men
The pirates fired the cannons
Two British ships went down
But one hundred troops stormed the beach
They were trying to take the town
But Kenway had prepared right well
He had men upon that shore
Hidden under canvas sails
Ready for the war
The troops were taken by surprise
The pirates did attack
The were outnumbered three to one
But they sent them running back
Kenway's cannons fired again
And four more ships did sink
All the pirates roared huzzah
As they sank into the drink
Fourteen British men of war
Limped out of the bay
Their sails were torn their hulls were holed
As they sailed away
Through the years many tales were told
The legend slowly grew
Of how the British Navy
Were crushed by Kenway's crew
I know
Even if I have no evidence to prove it
I know
That I was never meant to be in this world!
I find not my place here
I like it not here
I am not comfortable here
I am not at ease here
I am, like a fish out of water
I am, like an angel fallen on Earth
I am, like a plantation of watercress in the desert
I am, like a stone having been given a heart!
The very fact that I took birth here
Broke my heart
The very fact that I fell from the divine abode
Shattered me to pieces
So much that I strive still to re-assemble my broken pieces
And walk, even if I drag my feet
Trying to motivate myself
To find joy and pleasure
In a world so aimless and confusing!
A world, where living is ruled by the cruel hands of Death!
But then, I thought I found love, once
I thought I would make of love my strength
I would hold its hand
Smile
And instead of walking
I would now enjoy the ride!
For, love would be a carriage
A carriage driven by my beloved
A carriage which would allow me to sit
And enjoy the passing sceneries of the paths I had to go through!
But love was made of ego
Of vice and selfishness
Love, instead of being a strength
Love, broke my heart again!
Why, love was just like a cannon ball
Which kept striking my most sensitive spot
Love, bid me to hate my life
And yearn for the skies once more!
Pray, I have learnt the lesson
I am to be, in this world, devoid of love
For I am not to be attached to anything here
I am, to get back to where I came from
I am to climb up the celestial stairs
And reach my home, my forsaken home!
Why, the power which forced me here
Is as broken hearted without me
As I am without it!
Pray, is love not beautiful
Is love not magical
When forgiveness and submission
Plays in its arena?
Pray, the skies unveiled themselves once
And bid me to an awakening
Since then, I have come to learn of myself
And of my temporary stay here
I have to understand
Why is it that I find not my place here
Pray, I may be broken hearted
But I am in the process of being healed
And the time shall come
When the gates of the skies will open
And immerse in me
Joy, of an eternal nature!
9th February 2017
For contest: You broke my heart
Feeling very trapped
Dungeon canary getting ready to be zapped
Proceed down a level
Only giving a quotable shovel
Building a winning case
In a better place
Riding in a vehicle to transfer
Something in the air had a stir
“Face the gunners mate
Tonight is the date
Do not worry about the sky points
You will not lose em in the Emirates joint”
As for the new castle that was united
Confident acting armored and knighted
Plan to invade the gold sands
Metal detectors in the hand
Mr. Bourne shouted from the mouth
“Why are you heading south?
To pick our bloody cherries
In order to pour your chalices and be merry”
A royal not in a hurry
Answered, “No we want to know what you have buried “
Before the match
Mr. Bourne wondered about the catch
Wanting to fry the whole batch
“A royal meal
Sounds like a good deal”
Stepping off the bus
Convicted canary had no fuss
Ready to take the arsenal aim
Realizing it is just high profile fame
Feeling very calm
Taking the threat made by the cannon ball bomb
Puttering on the beach
Deciding on a lesson to teach
Magpies treasure uncovered a tasteful test
Carrying all the ingredients that were in the chest
Claiming their pies are the best
Mr. Bourne watched in content
Reaching his one goal that he meant
In the flavor went
Deceptive dessert destined to be sent
Baked by mag the pie
Well decorated and that was no lie
Placed in a box
Addressed “Thackray now having Goldie locks”
Arriving home seeing the gift
This gave the west ham and nice lift
Reading the attached letter
That stated you will play better
Table saw a movement that counted three
Jumping over the buzzing bees
Hornets now behind
Closer to relegation time
After eating the treat
Ever so sweet
With a accompanied wine
Temptation that was divine
Not able to decline
In the end Thackray shirt turned color Claret
Due to the after dinner drink that was a perfect pair it
Thackray thought this was good and fun
Before a thought came to her when she was done
Appointment book said Sunday meeting at St James
Playing a game
Letting out a gigantic gastric bubble
Saying “Uh oh I am a west ham in big trouble”
They sea me without.
I carry a raven upon my shoulder,
A sundial on my back.
The hat I wear is made of ash;
Sunlight is what I lack.
I drag my feet behind me on sandy beaches.
The ball and chain my ankle bracelet bling.
‘If only…’ is a wish, a fantasy; it’s incomplete.
I never made it big.
There is a line of memories behind me in the sand;
It shows the places I have seen.
It is my reason;
The reason I understand;
The reason I understand why you do not understand me.
It curves around, beyond the boulders
And on through rows of palm trees.
This dream I have, I have always carried;
It has always been with me.
I leave my burdens at the door,
But desire is a flame that still burns eternal.
It lights up my face, when I see her face,
But inside I remain forever nocturnal.
I walk in foreign footsteps,
No guide or friend in tow.
I cross the sea of peace, love and empathy forever,
Alone in my sinking boat.
I carry only what I need to make it to the end of the sea.
The cannon ball attached to my feet,
Is expanding more than I would like it to be.
It grows with each passing full moon,
The only time I can be seen.
I hide behind a smile sometimes,
Before it rows away from me.
I have a conversation, with a man who sells only ale;
His face is full of redness and joy!
My face is always pale.
I take a sip of this rotgut and begin to waste away from the inside.
I sometimes hear a hearty tune and sing!
While all the time,
Inside, I die…
The noise is intoxicating;
The words they speak are so enchanting.
Sooner or later it becomes closing time
And I am left walking away from the dancing.
The maiden’s flutter their eyes,
I haven’t shaved in several weeks.
My life is worn away by the sun, my clothes torn asunder.
They flirt and kiss me on the cheek
But there is no more thunder.
They ask if I would like to join them,
On their midnight adventure.
I have no words, I promise to return,
But they never get a real answer.
They cannot readily see the hole in my soul;
Oh what a charmed life I live.
I try to laugh, so tip my hat…
…a pirate’s life for me.
(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Jock stumbled - pals called him a wus
(No injury was obvious)
But Jock bruised his willy
And now he feels silly
With todger strapped up in a truss
WRITTEN BY JAN ALLISON
Old Jock had injured and bruised his man thing
His doc said "Jock, you'll need a tartan sling"
He's now looking quite built
Bulging under his kilt
Lassies swoon when he does the Highland fling.
After a week his thing turned black and blue
Jock said "hoots mon, what am I ganna do"
But he'd left it too late
Doc had to amputate
And now poor Jock has to sit on the loo.
WRITTEN BY TOM CUNNINGHAM
He washed his new jock, it was new
So it tightly embraced both its crew
But after the race
Oh what a disgrace
His now aching partners were blue
WRITTEN BY JOHN LAWLESS
Jock stumbled and he landed face down
Injuring the jewel in his crown
His bruised pride and joy swelled
By awe it was beheld
Jock's tackle became talk of the town.
The doctor said I know just the thing
To give support to your ding-a-ling
Doc got Jock's bits strapped up
Jock swore and he cussed
For doc said it could be longstanding.
Jock's dilemma can be seen by all
He's going nuts because of the fall
He's craving free willy
To swing willy-nilly
And longs to unstrap his cannon ball.
WRITTEN BY BELLE BELLEVUE
Now Jock knew about liquid nitrogen
But sprayed on far more than he might have done
So just when it mattered
One tap and it shattered
And Jock said Hoots mon, me old fright’ner’s gone
He said Doc, I need a new caber
My wife has never gone through labour
The Doc held his gaze
Grabbed three treble A’s
And sewed on on a three foot light sabre
WRITTEN BY TERRY FLOOD
Jock managed to get his willy banged up,
He cried loud like a little newborn pup,
Stayed in bed a week,
It hurt to take a leak,
All because he slipped on his sippy cup
WRITTEN BY ALEXIS Y
IF ANYONE WISHES TO ADD POEMS PLEASE SOUPMAIL THEM TO ME
First a quick word on Robert the Devil,
whose turbulent life turned out quite a revel.
He fathered a child on a poor tanner's daughter
then dashed to repent in Jerusalem's quarter,
but on his return, sad to say, he died,
yet he set up his son, his only pride.
Though being dubbed "bastard" earned him rebuke
Son William became a very tough duke,
as shown by the fact he became England's king
on Christmas Day when the church bells did ring.
Poor England he ruled with a grim iron rod.
He harried the North like a merciless god.
To gauge England's wealth great pains he took,
which to prove I name the Doomsday Book.
Once his horse took fright in a fiery melee
and part of his saddle punctured his belly.
After this mishap he did not live long.
When his belly burst, oh what a pong!
The monks in Rouen cut his funeral short,
when incense galore no remedy brought.
Then his son William Rufus ascended the throne.
To wild fits and frenzy this redhead was prone.
He found city life somewhat too narrow.
Out riding one day, he was struck by an arrow.
Many hard battles King Billy fought
ere he fell from his horse at Hampton Court.
No enemy's musket laid him low,
no cannon ball , no swordsman's blow.
A hoof of his horse got caught in a hole,
the work of a lowly burrowing mole.
On the Emerald Isle some raise a toast
to this notable victory of the least o'er the most
William the Fourth died in his bed,
which somehow fitted the life he had led.
He had multiple children but not with his wife.
Exemplary no way was King William's life.
When in time a new William mounts Britain’s throne
may he shun the errors to which others were prone,
avoiding pitfalls and fierce martial strife,
and every enticement to stray from his wife.
I promised Milt I'd tell him a tale
Turn on a little Hillbilly music OK
I was about the age of six or seven and bootleggin was a real bad habit.
Or so I heard
We had one road called the Cannon Ball Road
Where the law'd hide in the trees and wait for the brew
Trying to stop all of these illegal crews
Or so I heard
Now where we lived there weren't many homes
And most of the owners worked their homes were so new
You see all this took place back in WWII
Or so I heard
One afternoon mom, my little brother, a cousin and me
Were in the house it was pre TV
The door burst open and a man ran in, "I gotta use you phone right away," said he
Or so I remember
Scared to death mom showed him the phone
We all just stared as he made his call
And Zeke my little brother started to bawl.
Or so I remember
He hung up the phone thanked mom and explained
He had to get hold of his brother, he said
It seems he'd heard the cops were planning a raid.
Or so I remember
He left and mom rushed to the door
There was no way to lock it to stop another scare
So she and my cousin pushed up a big chair.
Or so I remember
The next thing she did was then call my dad
"Call next door to his brother " is what he said
Zeke and I climbed upon the back of the chair
And looked out the window until he was there
Or so I remember
The cops did raid Bushers Grape Vine after work
And as it turns out they went to our church
We found out he had ran nearly three miles to ask for mom's help
Or so I remember
Zeke and I had so much fun on the back of the chair
Whenever dad would have to work late at night
We'd beg mom to lock the door to avoid another such scare
Or so I remember