Short Protagonist Poems

Shining with halo
Moon is the protagonist
In starry Sunday...

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Though men and 
women often complete
the other--if a relationship 
to last, the protagonist 
should never be need 
alone…....

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Scream
horror, fear
thrilling, exciting, ground-breaking
prey, survivor, feminist, misogyny
calling, chasing, hiding
scary, murderous
legacy...

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Is poetry literal?  If it is dark,
does the protagonist become me?
Did Poe really hide bodies in the wall?
Probably not! It is telltale, is it not?

2/12/2021...

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Rusty colored moon
Two events in one night
Eclipse and super moon
Supreme spectacle sight












For Super moon Eclipse Poetry Contest
9-27-2015
Third Place...

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a great team leader
a conductor of an
orchestra
a composer;
composing the future
a perfect creator;
creating nature
a protagonist in
character
with an
extraordinary
charisma...

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I've been told the
soul-spot a sin
though, myself, yet not 
convinced such smudge
my own relation – and to err
is human, and to forgive
Divine...therefore I forgive,
even if that protagonist
The Sublime.......

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Special gifts are given
by non-special

(Love is a miracle,
it is a special thing)

people is not special,
they are the protagonist of it

We can give each other
very precious gifts

This is the beauty of life....

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I have a grandson whose mother adored Where the Wild Things Are
A book where the protagonist is Max, an imaginative boy, a shining star
When he came home to be with them, he lived up to his famous name.
Max, full of terrific ideas and concepts, playing the Wild Things game....

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It seems that even-tempered Ralphie Parker,

   Had a side to him that was somewhat darker.

      Ralphie lost his cool with his mortal protagonist,

         And bloodied the beak of Farkus his antagonist!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved...

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PROTAGONISTS

Protagonist
Finds himself alone
On stage
Performance frozen
Smiles clumsily
A hidden hand
In shade
A stab from behind.

Vacant seats
Bated footsteps
Dust and delusion
Close to dusk
Protagonist wails
'Screw me
I've to deliver
My arch dialogue
Et too.............
Then fall me'
o...

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Protagonist
Finds himself alone
On stage
Performance frozen
Smiles clumsily.
A hidden hand
In shade
A stab from behind.

Vaccant seats
Bated footsteps
Dust and delusion
Close to dusk.
Protagonist wails
'Screw me
I've to deliver
My arch dialogue
"Et Too.......
Then Fall I'"...

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Look in the mirror. What do you see? Depends on the choices you've made. Depends on your programming. Depends on where you were born. Depends on what you were born. Look in the mirror. What part will you play? A protagonist? An antagonist? What will you do with the time you have? How strong is your will? Look in the mirror. What will you do?...

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I see you placed on a shelf
My protagonist 
Inky smudge on my heart
Your paragraphs carved
We have laughed and loved 
Through chapters lived
Story cast and relished
My parchment of hope 
Perched higher than the others
Friend of mine bound by leather 
Your pages have shaped me 
Creased and wrinkled
Blemished stained page
I do cry alone
Farewell my story
For our chapter has ended...

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Glorious becomes one’s wait
When one is with desire best
In whitish drape you just rock
Making me to verse of stock
Sunny glow dances on neck
Necklace resembles the lake
The ‘very own Indian belle’
And the protagonist in tale
Of romance and affection..!
Intensely lit up of passion
Eyes carry a gesture cool
They scan so deeply full
Powerful diva of charm lo..!
Hist! She’s to crack IAS so..!!...

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His title roles were all misunderstood
An angst ridden protagonist, dark outcast
From East of Eden to Giant one could
Not know that Giant role would be his last
...a cultural icon was soon to blast

I toast to you, the late and great James Dean
A man whose trade is one of arts cuisine
His method acting brought him much applause
As his emotions crafted every scene
He was a young Rebel Without a Cause...

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I would answer by saying that it is the absence of your fathers earthshaking glance at the dawn of an unpredictable night. I would answer by saying that it is the acknowledgment of the neglected truth, that life is nothing but a series of scenes in an indisposed screenplay. And that death is the anticipated protagonist, a patient gift disgustingly disguised underneath the smiles of all that which we think brings us happiness....

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With angelic eyes, She was uttering love
While slowly turning those soft words
of an apparently innocent naïve poem
Into an immortal allegory of beauty….

And the reluctant protagonist of the story
Was measuring those words, neutrally
While sitting there , unconvinced.
Now a days it’s hard to decipher love.

Those mystical words of an eternal exaggeration!
Oh! Those balloons of enchanting floating words!
Sailing up, up and away!...

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Listen to poem:

Captive Canticle
David J Walker

Imagine her always dressed as summer
Perpetually blown from day to day by
A youthful song  and 
I could have been the singer…  or
I could have been the distant canticle
Sung on her bedside radio 
Strewn in rose petal  expectations of the
Perpetual journey of the protagonist in
A love poem who will never be seen 
Beyond the next tomorrow

The chapter ends and she remains
The captive canticle of the book...

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My childhood
Limicolous nomic but limpid or propper,
Hard lines limb, non violent and passage stopper,  
Vegetarian, nonchalant, compliance or observant,
Prepotent prepositor, jannock jangler and importunate copper.
Metoposcopist, mettled, nonplus politer or politic,
Demonstrator, protagonist, receiver or a fair way to chopper.
My childhood, credible, conceivable or appreciator,
Sagacious, replenish, reprobator and republished hocker. 
My childhood was a joker....

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He did not want anything
after the sex and death of a protagonist.
Rebuffed and sliced through the body,
the onus was left on toxic mix.

He died in deprivation, in intensity
of hunger and fluidity of thirst.
The quartet of grenades stretched too far
the indemnity of shell shocked apostles.

A clan lost the sense of hearing.
A mystic odyssey of massacre, raising
the doubt of gifts in heaven. The starchy
statements and commands scattering.




SATISH VERMA...

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God, I've known you
Since I was a little girl.
You've always been apart of me
but never my whole world.

You've always been a character
in the plays I've produced
but instead of being the protagonist
you've been a character I could lose.

I'm tired of being the playwright
and having empty theater chairs.
Lord take over the directing
Lord hear my broken prayers.

I'm tired of producing nothing
I'm ready to let go.
Lord take over everything
I've reached my plateau....

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In this life
In this great life
Nature gave me a role to play
In the movie of life
A hero to save life


A protagonist fighting for nature
That mankind may exist for ever
Love for all nature
To protect my world from the destroyer

To heal the breaches of the humandom
Freedom from the devilish kingdom
Unit mankind against his common enemy
Who reins waters of poverty
I came that there might be prosperity


Feel the wind of change blowing
This my making
In this life
In this great life...

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And he had stars shining in his eyes!
His constellations lit my world
More than the rising sun could ever do. 

His name meant to be chosen
And i chose him.
Through and through the haunts,
That he named fantasies. 

He pronounced his world dark.
His truths were so stark. 

Ambiguous, his little story was
The protagonist or the antagonist 
He could be portrayed as both 

The wrath his silence brought
It was a stormy night
Something so in front 
Still away from the sight.!!...

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