Signaled Poems | Examples

spiritual feeling in the air

There was a spiritual feeling in the air this autumn eve
Perfect night to meditate, she thought
Her spirit guides were urging her
She felt alive and open
Lit candles and a tiny bell signaled her angels
They zoomed around the room in flashes of light

Chicken Little

Chicken Little

Much like a messenger to mind,
Posed staring down into my face,
I sensed a rooster, brash and bold,
Was challenging my right to breathe.

Thus, in the inkling of an eye
With onset latent bleariness,
The old conundrum, fight or flight,
Was freshly flashing in my head.

This rooster was no idle threat.
Its size, imposing, filled my sky.
Its comb was cocked with attitude.
Its beak was aimed between my eyes.

Its eyes were beady like black peas.
They pierced my confidence and will.
Its countenance was firmly grim.
Its posture signaled, “Make my day!”

Then, in a moment’s timed elapse,
My brain awoke in roused synapse.
Fear not, it’s just macropsia.
The sky’s not falling after all.

Life Raft in Amber

When brother was fading away
black chimes signaled for the demons to play
They attacked all sides of the hobbled mind
Treating the heart like an orphaned marble
They were rabid and had brackish intention
hope chipped away like crowbar on cement.

In a dream one of them took me into its sky
I clung tight to its undercarriage
begging for it to release me
It promised that it would if I said
that I loved it...I relented
It didn't keep its promise as expected.

I coddled a little amber cross.... 
(a field mouse in an owl's greying claw).
I was dismissed into a pillow of tranquility
The demons slowly drifting away...
as did my brother the very next day.

Yesterday

There are many things about yesterday
that helped to shape who we are today.
One major thing comes to mind that was so
vividly imprinted upon my mind many years ago.

I remember it like it was yesterday, and I did not
realize it then, but life was teaching me a valuable
principle about respect. Self-respect can be greatly
nourished when I demand respect from others.

In a rural community, I often walked to the local
Post Office. It was about a quarter of a mile from home.
When I was very young, my father worked for the
owner of a large farm.  He was also a very rich man.
He wasn't a mean man but a rather nice man.

I was just a very poor boy who did not own a bike.
One day as Mr. Jefferson was riding in style,
I was walking in stride to the Post Office.

He slowed, offering me a ride.
I rushed to enter the car, but he
purposely did not come to a complete stop.
I was quickly annoyed and angered by this behavior
and signaled for him to go on without me. 'Thanks,
but no thanks'. I preferred to walk than to be disrespected.

Toast at Last

I use my toaster oven almost
Every single day.
A toasted bagel starts me off
In just the perfect way.

But lately, it’s been taking
Way too long to get things hot
And to close the door, you have to
Give it everything you’ve got.

This morning signaled its demise;
The door is stuck ajar,
The final culmination proving
It’s not up to par.

But there’s no need to wallow
In a crumb tray filled with sorrow,
For Amazon will send a new
Replacement by tomorrow!

Level of Concouness

Borders Galashiels and Peebles
Sycamore Gap By Hadrian's Wall stood a sycamore tree
m cut it down for a world to see. Maybe the shoots will resprout
we heard an angler say. 

Her smiled signaled her excitement
she was eager to reveal
something more than elegant
a cloth would conceal
startled by it's
magnificents
I gasped upon the sight
the exquisite beauty
an antiqued technique
 liked distressed it shines
in the dimmest of light
nighttime does it best
The Hadrian Sycamore
a well storied detail
she used the natural of night
it secrets she would reveal

They crafted a picture frame
on each corner was a
scarlet red
the shimmering golded hue
each corner brightened
with red
it glory stems
from the crafters sorted works
the grooves of embossing
carved with an artisains detail
again the night
sold the peice some wanders to conceal
all strangers of this
aren't as novice as they seem
the stuff of story
sort of like a dream

You and Me

In soft whispers and loud shouts
In confidence and moments of doubts
In shallow words and hollow voice
In giving up over snatched choice
In clenching of heart and spreading of wings
In forgotten bonds and broken rings
In signaled truth and spoken lies
In secretly finding each other’s eyes
In every way we wanted to see
Wasn't it all always about you and me??

Red Dog Remembered

A wrestlers kapi pup born in the town of Porapoo
Red Dog~The Pilabara wonderer with lurid tales' legion
A bold spirited canine he, an Aussie through and through
Roaming free the red earth of the wide Northwestern region

He pawed a ride with John, an iron miner, when lost.
They became close mates, good sports to remember.
But drinking and poker took their grim cost.
John was gunned down in 'ts, the first day of September.

Now as Red Dog roamed quietly unconsoled
Cars, buses and trucks offered him rides, hugs and food.
For his hard-luck story had been told and retold
With good Aussies determined to brighten his mood

For the rest of his days Red Dog roamed about
Stopping cars now and them for food and a ride
His loud flatulations signaled 'twas time to get out.
With nature his friend and kind folks who abide

Pilbar mourned with muted disbelief,
When the poisoned body of Red Dog was found
A bronze statue stands for friends to bow in grief.
May Red Dog rest well in his much-loved native ground.

Red Alert

Red Alert Red Alert Red Alert
All Hands and bodies on Deck
Our warship has been hit
The enemy’s missiles did it
The warship is going under
SOS has been signaled
One Soldier sounds a whistle
Many warships in the area
Communications retrieved
They have been transcended and received
The warship is steadily heading for the bottom
The enemy above in war planes still attacking
The Warship was able to fire our missile, and we hit one of the enemy’s war planes
Our warship no longer remains
Soldier’s loss
The enemy’s missiles were the force
Down below the warship goes
The fearless and the brave

An Honest Enemy Is Better Than a False Friend

Sometimes your road to glory
Will be filled with thorns
This would be an important aspect of your story!
An honest enemy is better than a false friend

Multiplying your talent and 
Cementing the accuracy of your gift will 
Often reveal the fact that friends can turn into foes
The souls of men and women are filled with hatred
When the matrix in your life changes that grant you an advantage!
An honest enemy is better than a false friend

You will raise the bar in your life 
And you will see who are your real friends
If your progress brings a sudden shift in their attitude
Then they have signaled the commonality of hidden hypocrisy!
An honest enemy is better than a false friend
Sometimes your road to glory
Will be filled with thorns
This would be an important aspect of your story!

 
Mark Frank

Copyright 2023

God's Creatures

Crabs tip toe along the bottom
daintily picking at morsels
with their crushing claws.
This is an arena for carnivores,
creatures made for tearing flesh,
or picking carcasses clean
with a kiss. 

Hinged mouths
engineered for swallowing whole
lay in wait in mud or stalk
weedy hideouts for prey.
Others prowl oceans 
fitted with rows of serrated teeth
or have bellies as big as trucks
to house their kill.
Some have arms studded 
with vacuum cups 
that caress and hide 
a deadly beak pouched
just below a brain. 

No screams 
can be heard here or, if let loose,
find a register in the human ear. 
Pain is tapped out in tiny tremors
too subtle for our senses
to feel, death
signaled by a surface splash
or kept out of sight.
The suffering is seismic.

Blake's terrestrial tiger pales 
to a pussy-cat compared 
to the arrayed instruments 
of slaughter that have 
a home here. God must love
these killers to witness
the pain of their bite
or else floats anesthetized 
in an infinite, 
dreamless state.

Brouhaha

The reunion that caused all of the zany brouhaha
From a family kerfuffle with one humorless raw flaw

It all went down quite swiftly, in a quick split lickety
And ended outside in the hedges most thorn thickety 

A tray of food put cattywampus on the table by papa
Slipped and fell in by our taradiddle called mama

She was always a snip uppity and pinch or two persnickety
Especially toward mad uncle Ed who's getting old and rickety

As she landed on her derriere he let out a great guffaw
We chuckled and chortled but soon saw our big faux paw

She hurled everything at us from cups to fence white pickety 
We dodged and ran fast as we can it was quite a sticky wickety 

Flabbergasted brother Bob signaled to hurry with a caw caw
Grampa ran by gramma and pinched her rump with Ooh la la

She caught us all with a sprightly jump, hop and a skippety 
And threw us in that hedge like a wild flibbertigibbety

This tale may be strewn with yickety yak and blah blah blah
But that's how ma and pa caused all that wacky brouhaha

January 28, 2023
Writing challenge B word poetry contest
Sponsor Constance La France
Theme : Brouhaha

The Contradiction of the Cross

Vile instrument of death and shame
on which Christ hung taking our blame.
His death purchased eternal life
for those ensnared by sin and strife.

Like Moses’ serpent on a pole 
those doomed to die from death He stole.
That which was once a source of shame
is now acclaimed in Jesus’ name.

Hanging between two taunting thieves
His words caused two men to believe
the one hanging upon the cross
was not a man but heaven’s boss.

To those who sat in Judgement’s seat
the cross signaled Christ’s sure defeat
but for those who now bear His name
their Savior’s love shines forth aflame.

The symbol of salvation sweet
love’s evidence, like mercy seat
a cruel cross contrived of wood
adorned by Christ, now stands for good.

The cross reveals God’s justice true
Christ paid sin’s price for me and you.
Through dying there He broke sin’s chain
so, one day we with Him will reign.

O wondrous cross upon your frame
the Lord my substitute became.
A sign of love you’ll always be
The love of God, the One in three.

Autumn, O Autumn

Autumn, O Autumn, I have always loved you.
Please forgive me if I've not told you so.
From childhood, you have been most special.
Back then, you signaled cessation from labor;
Farm labor that was very hard, hot, and humid.

Autumn, O Autumn. Is there another as
Productive, quiet, and beautiful as you?
Looking out all around, I see your beauty
In many and variant ways; whether it's the leaves
On the trees or the dust from the harvest of grain.
Or a sea of soft picture-perfect white cotton in the fields.

Autumn, O Autumn, you are indeed the great gatherer of
The seed of sowers, promoter of festivity and celebration.
Your voice shouts from the trees, the fields, the white
Clouded skies. Not the shout of noise, but the sound of
Anticipation, the joys and rewards of hard work and the
'Smile of God' upon your bountiful crops.

Autumn, O Autumn, the sun pauses for your entry. I feel
The tame in the atmosphere, the subduing of your presence.
You have come with smiles and not frowns, with lots of goods
To give to all and not take from any. Your God and mine have
Deemed it so. We are grateful for your season and shall be
Givers as you have given to us.

092222PS

Pre Monition

sorry, the world lost the content.
that's what the sad face of these years says
following the vertiginous decline of sunflowers
and the lack of regularity in each smile.
only this routine exercise remained,
a veiled hope of change,
that ignores the inflexible advance
of this imperative setback.
do you hear the cyclic engine of reality?
he hammers a hard thump of sour truth.
you hear the insidious echo of an ancient voice
that alerted us to this delicate moment,
which signaled this disturbing decay?
something that now disappears
like a sun that drowns,
still boiling in an ocean that devours him.

• Short Signaled Poems
• Famous Signaled Poems
• Best Signaled Poems
• Read Signaled Poems
• Long Signaled Poems
• Signaled Quotes