Zealots, one by one, with steadfast passion
serving God as Master
in enthusiastic fashion -
His broadcaster.
Zebulon’s tribe pardoned for insurgence
became clear spokesmen yet;
famous mariners and merchants
with God’s mindset.
Old Testament prophet Zephaniah
foretold deportation
of God’s hope for the Messiah -
chosen nation.
Old Zacharias, priest in the temple,
doubted in disbelief,
lost his speech; really simple -
he caused God grief.
There was Zebedee, busy fisherman,
father of James and John,
loosed his sons, new mission began
their anchors drawn.
Simon the Zealot, unsung disciple
attentive, observant,
zealous for Jesus, not idle
as His servant.
Zealots, one and all, somewhat imperfect
serving their Savior God.
Righteous, they were voices He picked
to give Him laud.
December 27, 2022
sponsor: Constance La France
contest: Zip, Zig, Zag, Zing
When her smiles are no longer real
And she laughs only now and then
If every thought is now kept sealed
Hold her until she feels again
When memories only bring tears
And joy's lost in "remember when"
In the darkness quiet her fears
Hold her until she feels again
A heart scarred and of love bereft
Empty voids her only spokesmen
When she says numb is all that's left
Hold her until she feels again
05/12/2018
SONNET FOR THE POLITICALLY CORRECT
[There is a history of the world, parallel with that which we know - or is it?]
Then Horatius slew no foes to defend the bridge
But invited Lars Porsena across for tea and crumpets
With our English dead did we not close up the breach
Nor storm the wall to sound of drums and trumpets
No promise of toil, tears, and sweat was made, but in lieu
One of handouts entitlements, counselling and free contraceptives
Our spokesmen were exhorted to tolerate every view
No 'evil empire' was confronted, with robust invective
We submitted to dependence, delusion and wishful thinking
In that parallel world of sweetness, light and no villainy
On a gradual slippery slope not aware we were sinking
In a slow subtle deluge of utopian soft tyranny
A servile decaying world we inherit if we neglect
The fight for freedom, but embrace the politically correct
People paid a premium
So gifts would be on time.
Many never made it, though,
Which seems a Christmas crime.
Charging extra means to me
You plan to keep your word.
Saying “sorry” can’t correct
The letdown that occurred.
Spokesmen said they hadn’t planned
On how much people sent,
So workers handled what they could
But not to that extent.
Apologies will not suffice
For there are many frowns
From customers who think that UPS
Should change its name to DOWNS!
Your roses are for your love.
In roses there lies red.
In red is blood, carnelian soul; life, your life, a life you devote so diligently to
another’s; the colour of your ardour, the roses in their cheeks.
In red is the heart, your heart, their heart, the hearts you sold to another pair of
hands.
In red is the acrimony that flushes your eyes, your tongue; the tacit spokesmen of
yet to be hysteria, discord, poison on their voice and aftermath of lachrymose.
Silences.
A petal falls. You forget about love.
A rose withers; personification at its finest.
I'm not promised tomorrow
but i'm not sure i'm willing to give it up
theres so much i can't say
but there's so much i'm compelled to
you want rhythm and blues
But all i see is turmoil
and plots that seem to go unfoiled
maybe i'll live, maybe i won't
whatever i do, what is it to you
a few compliments and comments
to seduce me further into a rage
that you donot understand
the unfortunate desires of an aling man
will you stand beside me
in my hours of misfortunes
will you hold my hand
the moral is don't be the first
to voice your opinion
Don't want for a better tomorrow
Because they will only bury you
in yesterdays horror
MLK, JFK, Mr. Tupac Shakur
writers and spokesmen of this ongoing storm
life's been two cents short
of a bagel and manour since i was born
rebels of a better day i'll see you soon
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.