Long Unequalled Poems
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So we cross this threshold of war as awful friends in freefall,
and with these trumpets and drums shaking the graves
of ancient days we bring forth instruments of death's call
through our very own homeland where the music of valor plays,
songs, poems and parades are already being written in the pulse of the people,
only the names of the victors and vanquished remain unknown,
yet both will be Roman, both will bleed, and both will reveal their soul's steel,
pallisades, seige towers and ballistas of big stones thrown
from town to town, from Arminium, Corfinium and to the Bay of Brundisium
the Italians of Rome have said to the Legions of Caesar save our home
seek no throne, carry not a crown, show the world that cruelty can be outdone
scourge the vile with the virtue of Clementia, make the Senate atone,
make not widows of Rome's daughters nor orphans of the innocent
bring a heartbeat of holiness back to these halls and hills where peace has been absent,
Bring a heartbeat of holiness back to these halls and hills where peace has been absent,
you've heard these honest entreaties and endearments
from mothers and elders, citizens, priests and from the militant,
we are not men who march on dreams,
we have not marched into Greece to starve and grovel
under the ritual yoke of this pseudo Republican army
headed by an overhyped hothead acting under an upper class spell,
I believe we were born to be on this battlefield's history,
we are inspired by unequalled Evocati leadership
veterans venomous in brute brilliance,
they have a myriad of mercenaries whose cause is only for coin on the hip
they outnumber us 6 to 1 on horse and 2 to 1 in the lines
most of Pompey's Legates have learned warfare from talk and books,
we've been taught the terror of triumph from where the heart looks...
J.A.B.
Miss Jessica Finch, the avian sleuth
Was scratching out novels and sipping vermouth.
She lived a charmed life when she was quite young;
Her first book, “The Voyeur: Peeking Duck Hung”.
“Peacocked and Loaded,” no rivals, unequalled.
“All Bluster, No Muster, “ a fan-favored sequel.
“Migratory Murmurations of a Wandering Heart”
And “Starling, My Darling,” her cross-over art.
“Covey of darkness: the Unpheasant Truth”
Shines light in glass houses, unkempt and uncouth.
The one she’s best known for, that everyone one knows
That suspenseful thriller, “A Murder of Crows.”
But the one she loves best, that still gives her pause,
The brilliant court drama, “Probable Caws.”
————-
for the A Flock of Birds Poetry Contest
sponsored by Julia Ward
written on 09/24/22
I am the common man; I have no great song.
When Mum saw me first, she cried very long.
When Dad held me first, he felt very proud.
I was their ray of hope; I was a rainy cloud.
I left school early, but valued my teacher.
I liked to be a soldier, a barber or a builder.
My parents still loved me and gave me all care!
They had amazing hearts; unequalled and rare!
I became a famous builder in my little town.
I built so many houses; I let no one down!
My name went places; I left so many marks.
I built so many schools; I built so many parks.
The places that I built each assumed a name.
I walked by those places; I didn't see my name.
5/6/2014
The term Magic Moments
Can only be interpreted as those special times in life
That stand out far above the rest
Those unforgettable moments we all experience
That create an indelible impression on our soul
And leave us with a lifetime memory
That we cherish and hold dear until the day we die
They can take on many different forms
But all have the same lasting and cherished effect
A warmth that is unequalled by any others
We all have them, though some men would never admit to it
When reminded of an event that has touched their heart
They also can be reduced to tears
Trying to suppress those emotions they think are unmanly
Before anyone sees their vulnerability
No need to hide it... it's just human emotions kicking in
Magic Moments
10:43:26 AM
And ten weeks later
You'd be gone
But your socks
Are still here
You looked so bad when you left
Barefoot without a care,
Solitaire
The blanket you wore
You had sworn you'd tear
Before you'd leave again
All tattered and alone
Without a thought for your own
Pursued by thrushes
And their beautiful song
A gem by it's lonesome
Solitaire
Let well enough alone
The disquieting emotion
Of your isolation
Your unequalled proofs
Of provocations
Considered seperatly
Things are never
Of the same class
Solitaire
No displacement of egos
Along your trail
To go next your steps
No devotee gaining on you
No toting any trappings
And your back subtracted
Into the unsettling downpour
The colors of your cover fading
Solitaire
Bedcloths and linens
Wear dull the drifter
Prompted by airs
And your socks
Are still there
As if an advertisement
For the grandstand
Of your departure
Solitaire
So long to former discourse
Recoiling without answers
According to pattern
No more, the grand tour
For pegs on a board
Extinct and flightless
No long goodby
Forever distracted
Solitaire.
Unequivocally unequalled stature demands
a friend aint friend but right hand man
who must comply and serve their plan
expectant others lend their hands
Giving little demanding more
believe they help when not at all
if not the focus acting crawl
kicking others already small
Fine deception blinds your vision
denial, assurance and repetition
unknowing of their false position
self righteousness will talk not listen
Friends are always in their debt
believe they give more than they get
such self important intellect
stealthily pouncing those upset
Keep others down deny their part
point the finger and show no heart
situations controlled from start
playing dumb so in the dark
Then they act to be the saviour
socially empowered players
appear a helper when a slayer
Social righteousness portrayers
Cry!
Cry, My beloved country!
The land of hope...
The land of milk and honey
The land of people
Great and mighty....
Cry, My beloved country
The home of peace unequalled
The home of people intelligent
A marriage of incompatible spouses...
Cry, My beloved country
The boat which rocks in the tide
Yet capsizes not...
The scrotum of the ram
Which dangles dangerously
Yet it falls not....
Why?
Are we here...
Why?
Are we plundering...
Why?
Are we this way...
When?
Shall we be saved...
Thus I say
Arise, my country
And take your place
So glorified and dignified...
I see it coming
A revolution...
Bloodless?
I know not...
Why?
Cos my country
Is crying.....
Imagination is Divinity's show
we see what is in store and stock, old or new
challenging problems from various viewpoints
non-linear timeless, moves directionless
concretises void contents self perceives pure
evidence of things unseen in moving realms
fountain spring of all new wisdoms from unknown
dust it off, open it up, ageless it is
a no cost preview of coming attractions
on expansive landscapes we project wishes
monotony becomes lucid excitement
here we wipe slates clean of misery, boredom
conceive what will be perfected colourful
not knowledge, therefore has elemental wings
lubricates creative manifestation
impacts possibilities, gives rise to will
intent, configuration, action results
holding evidence of vibrational prisms
peace tool for misqualified energies lost
imagination infinite crucial cued
foundation tool for human creation
unequalled gift given to humanity.
PLACED 3RD: PREMIER CONTEST
Sponsor : Brian Strand
Words
Words, this life, knows no stronger force
These fragments with such ease we wield
Even love, they will steer off its course
And fell the high and mighty in the field
Unthinking we may use one by mistake
Throw out the smallest humble negative
Not realising how that one may grate
And find a heart unwilling to forgive
At times we twist them to our greatest gain
How simple is the art; Manipulate
With disregard for whom they may cause pain
With no concern for chaos they create
A means that has no other parallel
To take us to the plain of joy
Or plunge us into blackest hell
Unequalled is their power to destroy
We use them each, to communicate
To both confound and un-confuse
On their answers, we must ever wait
Whilst in reply, decide, which ones to choose
And on that throw of dice, win or lose
R D Seal 13 April 2013
Among Solomon’s first love commands in the book of his Song of Songs,
He adjures the young maidens by the gazelle, and how charm makes them strong.
For the gazelle is a gorgeous creature with beauty and unequalled grace.
She moves with elan and fleetness of foot, darting here and there leaving no trace.
Her sensuous body, caressed by the gentle breeze, trots about almost unseen,
Making the wildflower to blush and the envious grasses to turn a vivid green.
Eyes sparkling, she darts lightly about the meadow with all of her senses alert.
Seeming to be rolling and gliding, she can disappear and reappear in a spurt.
In the beauty of the length of savannah, she has no noticeable match.
Prancing from one thicket to the next, she stays too smart to catch.
Knowing well her environs, she blends with the hues of the scene.
By dieting lightly and steadily moving, she keeps her figure lovely and lean.
The photogenic bounty of every cameraman’s trained eye,
Her graceful hurdles and jumps can literally touch the sky.
The beauty of her eyes are a legend, their sharpness is a must.
Such a marvel of lightness and grace, there are few that she can trust.
Throughout two of the largest continents, she has reigned as a goddess;
Yet being a figure of poise and glamor, she remains demure and modest.