Spars Poems | Examples

Lord Vader in our own galaxy

Why can't he sell all of his cars?
Darth Elon with government spars!
Since his ships explode
Tesla's board wants him stowed
On the Space-X Death Star to Mars

Sonnet for Kellie

Some say your words act as a balm

A fleet of sweet tidings

Sailing into a gray dawn.


With white sails riding

On the heels of a grand mast

That sways without invoking

A need for true ballast.


It seems as though your rage

That spars with mine among the waves

Has now chosen to disengage

From me among the graves...


Of sailors lost at sea

Displaced by blithely prying winds

And now what will become of me?

Whose multitude of sins


Imply that my veracity

Contends with your tenacity.

Sonnet for Kellie

Some say your words act as a balm
A fleet of sweet tidings
Sailing into a gray dawn.

With white sails riding
On the heels of a grand mast
That sways without invoking
A need for true ballast.

It seems as though your rage
That spars with mine among the waves
Has now chosen to disengage
From me among the graves...

Of sailors lost at sea
Displaced by blithely prying winds
And now what will become of me?
Whose multitude of sins

Imply that my veracity
Contends with your tenacity.

Legends never die

As great as the stars they said
As fast as lightning they saw
From dusk till dawn he practices
Through the golden hour his blade shines brightly
Like the reflection of the moon on water
He spars continuously as if he knows no time
Like a waterfall his hair cascades as dark as the night
He wields his sword with great power
In the village he's praised for his achievements
An agile man willing to die for his people
As beautiful as her name Jasmine sounds she soothes his sparring wounds which he treats as his trophies 
With his dears by his side his enveloped in family love
The greatest samurai, the greatest father and husband 
He was the legend...

Jagged - First Place Contest Winner

In a striking and jagged world, my heart cracked.
            But I will not be beaten; I will not be subdued.
As I wandered, Earth's boundaries attacked.
I have vigor and a spirit that is renewed.
                        Mark the scheme's progression with scars.
      Each nightmare makes you stretch spars.
And scream upon weeping rose to the stars.
      Remnants of a world once whole, now debris
            Space junk drifts to pierce my roof and set me free.
                        Chemicals and detritus are just tough to foresee.
On the way to jagged peaks, many have struggled.
            It's twisted and rusted, with a grief portent imbued.
      Thus, brace ourselves for lengthy star wars
            Jagged shards of cosmic space float aimlessly.

1 st place contest winner

Hush, Crooned the Night

Here I sit on this night so still,
not a rustle in the leaves
nor a stirring in the grass.

No whispers intrude; naught but mine.

Ill news after days spent ill,
unwelcome foreword to grief
inexorable more like than not.

No answers come; naught but malign.

A thirst I can never quell,
a gulp seeming to smash the silence
whilst whiskey spars with the fear.

No solace is on tap; naught but fake.

A call from inside breaks the spell,
an urging for sleep's cocoon
next to a lover's warmth.

No closure can I find; naught but striding on.

Scrapbook

Crowd of entertainment, chapeaux and gowns, of Renoirs,**
not unlike the expansive midnight sky brimming with stars.
Capture of long ago memories, like lightning bugs in jars.
Knee deep, flood high - boxes of snapshots…our memoirs.
Whimsical caricature of a lifetime - chameleon avatars.
Oft’ one changes seasons capriciously, jumping boxcars.
Fading into the sun and moon - visible and ultraviolet scars.
The Johari window opens and shuts - scrapbook is all ours.*
Perspective of us, composite flashing blades, spars.
‘til we are bathed in heavenly light, much of us behind bars.

10/6/2022
SINGLE STANZA MONORHYME
Sponsor - L Milton Hankins
Used rhymezone

*Johari Window has four quadrants. 1) Our “open book” we share with everyone 2) Things we know but hide from others 3) Our blind self - what others see but we do not 4) Things hidden from both us and others

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Johari_window

**chapeaux - hats

Enough Flows Conjugal Juice

You men, having come from the martial Mars,
Us women from fetchingly cute Venus,
Do for long engage in a game of spars
And there’s li’le change in this mutual status.

For, feigning love no more than carnal sex,
Man’s for long sharpened his pyrrhic war axe,
To get loved whilst the fair sex has paid tax,
Praise be, pretender that no genius lacks!

Conjugal life centres round, what else, sex,
If we believe what an expert sayeth,
Fains if there be freedom from sex or tax,
Cometh liberation only at death!

So then, there's un-spelt avowal of truce,
Abundant surges still conjugal juice!
_____________

Expert sayeth: Havelock Ellis and others on the subject of sex
Sonnets (Tongue-in-cheek) | 01.08.05 |

I Urban Harlem-

Urban Harlem
-------------

"I Urban Harlem-Pokes up inland outward Like gray/black otters
Bumpy spars Cotton skies murky waters
Urban scrape building huddles
Broken and bundles like a jigsaw puzzle
~
Checker board black and read
King me, non rich selfish and poor
Looks like a concrete forest
Zzz’s for ladders in this jungle floor
~
Urban Harlem-Hazed and high off low esteem
Painted structures colors write
Wires containing promises and screams
Bleeding citizens encased in blight
~
Don’t seen right boxes to the skies
Bricks brown and red burnt orange crawling
Chocolate melts in-mixed the killing flies
Urban scrape building huddles- Harlem
~
Stage the horizon poor improvised 
Make the pointed bits show up like a burning fire
Black shocks of towers of forest trees
mountainous building towering scenes
Citizens screams in-mixed of police sirens
Urban scrape building huddles- Harlem I"

Cityscape Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Julia Ward |

Dictum of Insanity

On par to manage joyful course
Approach to live without remorse
While dictums of insanity
Are grinding spars impaling me

Perchance to light upon derail
The most melodic harmony
The rest express to no avail
Irrelevant profanity

Experience of life prevails
Experience no sailing smooth
Pause to enjoy a hilltop fair
The valley comes, despair resumes

Flying Free

Don he flew the big ones across a sky of blue
A pilots life was his this is true. 
From his perch above he saw his other love,
the sailboats below this plane he flew. 

He'd visit all the sun spots around this world of ours. 
He'd look down at the marinas with all their glistening spars. 
The day will come he told himself when I'll set out to sea.  
I'll land this plane, buy a boat, and call it "Flying Free."

>>
                I paint pictures with words.

Waves Crashed Within My Veins

~ This poem is written in the 8686 syllable count style of one of my favorite Emily Dickenson poems, 'I Felt a Funeral in My Brain.'


'pon roiling sea a fierce storm brewed
  waves crashed within my veins
fueled by heady winds, they pursued
  to drown my life with rains

With tympani beat, thunder roared
  bold lightning flicked and flashed
we pulled, we pulled, oh how we oared
  with nature's ire we clashed

Then came a clamor from astern
  our ship had split in two
in my veins, swells still pound and churn
  until the moon breaks through

Calmed now, the vile tempest from Hell
  sky riveted with stars
Man holds no power to dispel
  nature's wrath when she spars

~ For Chris

God's Good Week

After God had set the worlds to spin
Below the splendid canopy of stars
Cyan skies to let each breath begin
Dangled o'er an orb of earthen spars

Each river, lake and rill so set with care
Feeding all the oceans that they span
Gifted with all creatures rich and rare
His image given to the last one, 'man'

In spirit with the grandeur of his work
Joyful for the chance to bless and pray
Keen to prove this miracle, its worth
Lord God sat in stillness ... for a day

Much there was to hold in bright regard
Now that sky and earth were at his hand
Only one thing left - and this was hard
Put the humans' will at their command

Quiet, that last day, with peace and calm
Righteous in the work that he had done
Still, that final act would bring to harm
This grand world that glinted in the sun

Unless creation, man, could learn to love
Vast and selfless, like their God ... above.




~ 10th Place ~  in the "What Did God Do On The Seventh Day" Poetry Contest, Curtis Moorman, Judge & Sponsor.

Pentapolis Revision 2

PENTAPOLIS

GAZA.
From this small clearing  he won’t move 
into the ligneous shades of dark, 
fixed stillness in his day’s aubade,
all circled there by timber spars.
ASHKELON
At times a bright lit path appears
so then he’s tempted to explore.
ASHDOD
Yet just one brush against those spars
and then small folk come tumbling down.
EKRON
Hate filled, from stilts they fall to ground.
GATH.
Here their delusions lose the light,
around them only spars they see
bearing the clan with tunnelled sight
that trample virtuosity into a pulp 
where arts confined to narrow paths this 
modish time.

A Little Behind

Amongst this ligneous I don’t run around,
keep still where all the timber spars surround,
for if I move a little man falls down
hate filled from stilts I brought him to the ground.

Delusion was his watchword when up high,
deluded how the light would  blind his eyes
but with his feet on grass the forest sees
and what a stilted mind defines as trees.

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