Sentinel Poems | Examples

A Ghost Story

"I want to die in your bed
With bittersweet memories,
And a drunken head.
Never want to be alone,
Not for a single moment.
I am scared, scared of the ghost - 
That lonely soul in the white garment.
Funny, nowadays I'm feeling lonely too
Maybe that ghost is a mirage of mine,
BOO!
Now, why are you going away, 
Leaving me, creating this wound?
Don't you know I can't run after you,
I'm an ancient tree - 
A lonely sentinel, deeply soil-bound!
Okay then, let's accept it as my fate
Watching alone this never-ending night,
Dying alone, no resurrection - 
This realisation and the sudden fright."

An Autobiography

I am a lone tree,
An ancient sentinel rooted deep
Whispering songs of the past on the breeze.
I am a stick of dynamite, a fuse burning low
An explosion of feelings, just waiting to blow.
I am a bearer of bad news,
Hive mind of demons.
Thought they would fade in the rearview, the demons 
But they still cling to me, pale and askew.
I swore I knew myself,
But I didn't know the mirror could lie.
I wrote a hundred pages but burned them all,
I saw them ignite and die.
I thought all my problems- they would stay behind
As I became a meteor;
A streak in the night,
A terrifying sight.
Clouds rushing to embrace; my body dissolving,
Leaving no trace.
As you wish, always.

Petulant Midday Sun

The petulant midday sun
Raging, blazing, vindictive orbit at its zenith 
It's blinding glare, a white hot disc
Scorching and oppressive 
Over the earth and living ones 
A merciless sentinel in the cerulean sky 
Wrapping us in its stifling embrace
A shimmering mirage dancing in the air.

Life Changing

________________________________________
Life Changing 

In these quiet woods, as shadows spread,  
Timorous leaves whisper my secrets to the breeze.  
A sentinel of time I am among the malus trees. 
My roots run deep in my seed’s homestead. 
--
I stir under the warm sun anew. 
My blossoms blooming bouquets of pink petals fair, 
I stand in beauty, unaware. 
Unbidden but welcome, Spring has made its debut. 
--
My branches grow branches, my leaves bear blades. 
The bees buzzing come, a swarming tinnitus hum, 
My stigma swipes their pollen, my honey glands reward their plumb. 
Such is the dance of life, out of sight, in the shade. 
----
Sated with Spring and Summer, exhaustion nears, 
Pink petals pass. Unadorned leaves leave their color green for brown 
And softly, gently, resignedly, flutter down, 
Dumb in their final moments in the breeze’s tears. 

---- 
Myself, in those moments, stark and bare, I ponder life. 
Its fleeting fare seems awkwardly unfair to the fruit I bore, the leaves I shed, 
My issue are now numbered among the dead. 
But my roots still run deep, insulated from the strife. 
---
A sentinel of stone I am among the malus trees.

Nature's Sentinel

In a great, entangled forest, stands a metal monster—
An impossibility of nature, made by man. Alone;
Broken—it looms over all things natural
And asserts its right over the creatures that belong.
They do not look to him (this fake, metal being) —
It cannot even breathe or make noise!
Apart from the gears whirring in its machine form.
It is hated and unwanted. Even by its creators,
It has been abandoned. Now, it will never be found,
And it will be left for time to deal with; until it is
Creaking and groaning and falling apart with rust.
One day, soon, the grass will grow so thick and wild
That it will wrap its spindly fingers around the beast's leg
And grip it tight. The weeds will never let go—
The metal monster will never move again.
The whole of the forest soon will envelop the machine
Until there is nothing left to be seen of it. Until it is
Destroyed, like it was never there. Gone:
Prey to the unknown and the forces of nature.

Snowy Owls Feathers

snowy owl's feathers, 
soft and white as winter snow, 
silent sentinel…

Sentinel Ii

In a timeless time
In an unmeasured space
It observed and regulated
From Its appointed place.

There were twenty seven universe
To which It held the key,
Twenty seven parallels where 
It was obliged to be.
And It moved from plane to plane
Instantly changing form
Automatically choosing
The current plane norm,

Carrying out adjustments
 Making the odd repair
Adjusting ecosystems
As required here and there.
In some planes It was suspected,
Hailed as a prophet or a god.
Worshipped and revered
But thought this nothing odd,

Just carried out Its duties
As Its programme said
For in all Its form It had
No thoughts in any head.
A mechanic of the intellect
Passing from plane door to door
Conscious only of Its tasks and need
 To recharge to perform once more.

It felt no heat,
And It felt no cold,
And in measureless time,
It was immeasurably old.
!

Sticks and Stucco

wind wisps dark locks
from her brow
green eyes gaze 
across 
saguaro spiked slopes 
over 
sticks and stucco 
where once was a river 
and corn grew tall
her mama's native blood
her dad's rugged heart
she belongs to this land
pushed her baby
up this mountain
where two centuries ago 
sentinels kept guard 
now come here to see 
sticks and stucco grow
and watch her generation
manage water 
(Meade was full last
the year she was born)
see her nurse her dream
graduation
career launch 
marriage
money
pay too much for 
sticks and stucco
raise above average kids
walk them all
up this mountain
on Thanksgiving
while today 
her baby's stroller
chases grandpa 
down the hill
so full of giggles
tomorrow grandbaby
stands on this peak
on the brink of her 
sticks and stucco
and I pray
grandpa’s here 
too

The Sentinel

"Same ol', same ol'!",
Cries the Sentinel.
"He pits the parties
To perfect His will
In His heavens,
And on His Earth!"

"I trust Him to do the right thing 
More than I trust my own judgment."

"Same ol', same ol'!",
Cries the Sentinel.
"Their moral high-rank 
Is only a Mirage,
Tricking a thirsty soul
That its way is safe!"

"I trust Him to guide my footsteps
More than I trust my own eyesight."

"Same ol', same ol'!",
Cries the Sentinel.
"His powerful help- 
Irrelevant crutches
In their blind pursuit
Of deceitful wages!"

"I trust Him to keep on winning
More than I trust my own profit."

"Same ol', same ol'!",
Cries the Sentinel.
"The Savior loves you-
But there's no such thing
As acceptable sin,
Because it ruins!"

"I will trust Him and His choices
More than I trust my own reason."

"He comes, He comes!",
Cries the Sentinel.
"With Heaven's Armies
And all His holy ones
To keep His promises
For those who trust Him!"

"I trust Him to keep His Word
More than I trust the Meritocracy."

Allura and Her Sentinel

One is inhibited
when to grasp for her
without care without pity,
a stark reminder
for those with intent 
for behold a portrait of nature
when to gaze upon
the blushing Rose at home
amongst her guardian thorns
a rural delight
nurtured in the city
in grounds of remembrance
for there she sparkles,
as she fabricates the scented air
basks in the sunrise
shimmers in dawn’s breaking dew.

 © Harry J Horsman 2021

Sentinel of Life

Tides,
            die
             on the beach...
             Birds
               tweet
                caged or
                 at liberty...
               Poets
                 blow
                  minds...
                I pray
                  for 
                   the balance
                    of
                     cosmos... !

Lighthouse

On edge of time known
Standing strong against the storm
Sentinel of stone

Watcher of the sea
Foreboder of the danger
Shallow reef unseen

You can never sleep
When blows a raging tempest
The vigil you keep

Beacon in the night
Savior of many a soul
Brought home by your light

A Daffodil Stood Sentinel

Today I saw a daffodil
'Twas unaccompanied but still

Despite its lack of company
It filled my smiling heart with glee

Towards the Sun its trumpet pointed
Head held high as one anointed

"How beautiful," I quietly uttered
'Tis yellow as the purest butter

With stalks and leaves of verdant green
I found it charming, quite serene

So there it stood this golden bell
A daffodil... stood sentinel.









Entry for
Couplet- any theme, any length Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Dear Heart.
27/4/2020

The Sentinel Trees

the sentinel trees

as moonlight streams through their limbs . . .

foxes in the dark


April 20, 2020  
for Jenish Somadas'  Let The Pens Flow - Haiku Poetry Contest

Bristlecone

Strong sentinel on high
Beneath a mountain sky;
Called by name Bristlecone.
Twisted tree all alone
With green needles so dark 
Life clings stoic and stark.
Worn wood with thin bark edge
Locked to a limestone ledge. 
Thousands of years flowed past
‘Gainst snow and wind, a mast.
No sails with which to fly
You grew gnarled by-and-by.
Drought and quakes, you did face
Yet you held firm your place.
Despite all nature’s strife, 
How do you cling to life?

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