Long Suit of armor Poems
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Where did you get a stuffed albino squirrel?
I say this after giving it a tug and a whirl.
After oohing and ahhing over it, we all yell
And I mean down deep from the bowls of hell…
“Jambers!” loud and proud simultaneously.
We have all been there since our mothers’ knee.
Jambers is the most notorious flea shop in New York.
We spend money there fast enough to stuff porky pork.
Once I found a full-grown suit of armor I had to have.
I rented a truck and brought it to my house along with a calve.
The calve would have been a calf, but it had lost a leg.
I also brought home Blackbeard with a leg that was a peg.
If it is not to be found at Jambers, it is not to be had.
I learned this from my mother, father, and great granddad.
Jambers is the ultimate junk store, known by designers and the king.
If you cannot find anything at Jambers, you do not need anything.
Purposefully put together
Piled up piece by piece
Donning my suit of armor
Thought it provided peace
Polished exterior portrayed
That I had it all figured out
Buttoned up from head to toe
Yeah that’s what I’m about
Pay a price to put on a show
As the projecting takes a toll
Time to lay down my shield
To start tuning into my soul
Looking inward can reveal
Kinks in the armor are alright
Using them to our advantage
Since they let in the light
Illuminating what was hidden
Revealing spots that were blind
Done with depicting an image
Choosing to live life by design
Seeing through clear eyes now
Guiding me to let down my guard
Defenses have been dismantled
My heart no longer behind bars
Intricate are the patterns
that Dream weaves in the
darkest realm of my mind;
I once saw myself walking
along the seashore of
gleaming golden sands
strewn with sparkling gems.
There were women -
Fair, bald and beautiful -
sprawled naked on the beach
groveling at my feet
squirming and moaning
in the scorching heat
of the midday sun.
I saw myself standing amid them
dressed in a sheik's flowing robe
and wearing a bejeweled turban.
In my one hand I held
a glittering Excalibur
and an olive branch in the other.
At that moment I saw
someone riding upon
a giant bald eagle,
wearing a suit of armor,
swooping down on me
from the heavens;
In his left hand
He clutched a scroll,
In his right he held
a huge quill like a lance;
With the dexterity of a knight
He thrust the quill into my heart!
~Contest:Favorite Free Verse
Sponsor:Chantelle Anne Cooke
~"Best descriptive Poem" contest
Sponsor: A Poet Destroyer
Twin eyes, twin perspectives
Pick your poison; they're both too hard to explain
The cloudy sphere raining down once again
While it's earthen brother quakes uncontrollably
Ten years passed as ten years started
A growling eclipse blots the sun and spreads disease
It goes by many names, many forms
As it eternally revolves far beyond my reach
The boy died in a snowstorm so long ago, it seems
Crippled from birth, stillborn, but didn't know it
As he took those shaky steps towards a dim white light
Collapsing with a crooked smile
She stepped out into the sun
Its flaming rays warming, not burning
Perhaps the first and last time Winter spurned the child
A more jealous lover than you'd expect
Through fear of failure was failure born
A butterfly's flap that would rend the very mountains
Expecting a sapling to bear the weight of a treehouse
It bends, it breaks
He lived to see his wildest dreams come true
Invincible behind his suit of armor
Light refracting brilliantly on that prism
Casting the darkest shadow behind him
Even in darkest shadow
Did the tiniest embers dance in the sky
Through foul black winds
Did a flame of hope still burn
And so they stood as the monarch of a kingdom of plague
As the world outside lay rotting, so they thrived
"Nothing remains static," the snow whispered unto them once again
Kings are oft hard of hearing
Twilight burned beautifully far from civilization
As the setting sun cast brilliant shades of scarlet and violet
Sickness and death continued unabated
As the world was told to simply ignore what they saw
Lead may be sweet, but gunmetal is bitter
Salvaging wreckage from a charred castle
The sun's rays were harsh, even in shadow
What else was there to do but wait it out?
And so they looked salvation in its prismatic eyes
Hiding from one and jabbing the other
Left there on their own
Without a rainbow in the dark
It's a dazzling high number to experience
For the one who thought they'd be dead at 15
Yet here they lay, twice that and half formed
Too scared to live, yet too proud to die
If you don't stop all your crap
Your face I am gonna slap
My hand print will leave a mark
With full force whacking you hard
I can't take it anymore
You don't know what is in store
If your nonsense doesn't cease
Anger will surely increase
And boil so fast and wide
There is nowhere you can hide
You better wear a suit of armor
Knees and fists are gonna clobber
Every inch and I wont stop
Until I see you fall and plop
Into a pile that is useless
When did you become so clueless
And so blind you didn't see
My niceness turning to fury
With each stupid move you make
There's only so much I can take
Until I lose my common sense
Because you've become so dense
Destroying me little by little
Running away will be futile
There is nowhere to escape
My anger will always drape
Over you and not be gone
You have done me too much wrong
What is a flea market? I asked, unsure.
I found all kinds of things not found in the mall.
Antiques that brought memories back
Things I have never seen anywhere else
Things I knew I would never see or find anywhere else again
Home made things from creative people
Shiny things, feathery things, things of leather.
I was overjoyed when I discovered you can lug stuff to a cashier.
She will make you a pile and give you a number.
My number should have been JACKPOT
My pile was huge.
\My sister was askance.
My car is not big enough for all that, she told me.
Not to worry, I replied as they lugged a ten foot suit of armor to the register.
I have had to rent a truck to bring that guy home.
As the battalion races into battle
You can hear a Saber rattle
But as we charge with guns a blazing loud
He can be seen, leading the crowd
A Ghost on horseback brilliant white
In his suit of armor a scary sight
No one can believe their eyes it seems
He should only be seen in blood curdling dreams
But to us he is as real, as we are
Like us has traveled very far
Not in miles, but in time
Like a hero in a nursery rhyme
As we charge on and vanquish our foe
A thousand soldiers all in a row
He leads by example from the front
The cannon fire, he bears the brunt
Can the enemy see him we all think?
Or is it only us, and a curse of the drink
Imaginary or real boldly we wonder
We frightened soldiers in a politicians blunder
As the battle rages, he disappears as quickly as he came
And none of us even knew his name
Sometimes, I find myself on a battleground
in the present or in sieges from the distant past
It may be a war I've been waging within myself,
a thorn that needs plucking so that I might heal
I wear no crown, nor do I wish to be gowned
in regal robes and sit upon a throne looking down
on anyone. For me, those things hold no appeal
I am rebellious against the many wrongs I've seen
and if you think it's mean of me to feel that way—
You don't know me well enough to pass judgement
With regret, I've been the cause of an Angel's weeping
when down a misguided path I chose to walk
Mistakes? I've made my share of them, maybe more
but I've always tried to amend my faults in some way
Indemnity is not always reimbursed with coin
More often than not, my tears the price to pay
Sometimes, even I have not found the sentience of it—
things I do; emotions I feel. No reason as to why except
that I am compelled without restraint or prudence to try
I refute the need to live by the creed of the golden rule—
for only a fool would claim the world is a righteous place
where smug faces play fair in games of love and war
If I am defeated, I never hesitate to stand again
for I've always despised the thought of white flags
and retreating like a coward again and again, in sad refrain
I garner resilience and strength from every enemy I meet
and in defeat, my stratagem sharpens much keener
I am not a warrior; that's not the path I want to take
I've been storm tossed in seas of turbulent weather
When faced with animosity, I will not shiver and quake
Offered silk or suit of armor— I prefer a softer demeanor
Self-professed I am supple of breast
Heart not crafted from leather
From flesh, blood and bone
Of the gender called woman
I was not chiseled from stone
Sheets of blank paper had yellowed with age
I wielded a pen, but no ink was spilled by my hand,
Memories were left unwritten on every page,
though as many as a beach holds grains of sand
I gave in to my Muse and scrawled line after line
thoughts drawn from my soul, buried fathoms deep
Were all of those sad recollections really mine?
They were flowing as freely as the tears I weep
Reflections of my past in sunlight and ebony night,
refusing to remain entombed, fled from their prison
Strokes from darkness were escaping their plight
Released by my pen, from their sepulcher had risen
There is battle brandishing power in the pen I wield
A weapon I've found useful in place of a silent tongue
It cannot protect me as though suit of armor or shield,
Emotions shouldn't be confined; they should be sung
I was raised on stories of heroes…in Fairy Tales, in books, at the movies and on TV
Heroes slayed the dragons, fought the enemies and helped to keep us safe, happy and free.
Heroes had a special power…drawn from visceral source
They often came dressed in a suit of armor…on the back of a big white horse.
Heroes were tall, dark, handsome and beautiful…not one under six feet three
The heroes from my Fairy Tales didn’t look at all like me!
But when I left the Fairy Tales behind…I realized not all heroes had to wear capes…
That, in fact, I’m surrounded by heroes…and they come in all sizes and shapes.
Yesterday I had a chance to thank a hero…applauding her as she headed for home
and today I get to thank her a second time…In the lines of this little poem.
Let me thank you, and all the other heroes who are slaying this dragon, this invisible enemy
Thank you for all that you do every day…to help keep the rest of us safe, happy and free.
This particular nurse I thanked was not very tall…I’m sure she was under six three
She wore a blue uniform and her face was behind a mask…but she certainly looked beautiful to me.
I applauded her special power…drawn from her visceral source…
and had to smile as she waved driving off toward the sunset
behind the wheel of her Ford Bronco…of course.