Watchers Poems

Watchers in the Gloom

To that shadowed city round
Come those that are sorrow bound
In their multitudes alas
Through a Terminus so vast
For a city grim enabling
Their eternal laboring 
From the parapets looking down
Cold and timid souls abound
To shed their tears in torment rife
That shed they not for all their life
And from the masses on the wall
Does that gentle misery fall
It stains the heights in colors woe
And settles heavily on those below
Who join the marchers in their toil
Redemption seekers one and all
They wail and walk an endless path
Divined here by no mortal wrath
Their tribute to a city sown
By their tears and ghastly moans
For they seek in the hereafter
What risk rewards and all its laughter 
For they in life with trouble severe
Found not the will to persevere
And made a choice by many before
To embrace a simple life and ignore
The treasures offered and wisdom attained
That adversity's teaching hand ordained

Ireland's Enigmatic Watchers

From shadowed glens, where legends sleep,
Three figures rise, secrets to keep.

The Morrigan, a raven's wing,
Drawn to the clash, the death-song sang.
Of war, of fate, a chilling hand,
To claim the fallen, rule the land.
She shifts and weaves, a queen of might,
Her sovereignty in the darkest night.

The Banshee wails, a mournful cry,
A prophecy beneath the sky.
For family's blood, a thread undone,
Her keening echoes, day is done.
A spirit bound to mortal ties,
Her sorrow paints the weeping skies.

The Pooka runs, a shifting shade,
A trickster's jest, a game is played.
A horse of ebony, swift and bold,
He leads astray, tales to be told.
A playful spirit, wild and free,
He dances on the edge of glee.

From ancient roots, their power springs,
The Morrigan, the Banshee, Pooka brings,
A touch of magic, old and deep,
Where shadows stir and secrets sleep.
Guardians of lore, through misty air,
Whispers of Ireland.

Watchers and Doers

The watchers sit around watching the doers do!
Who does that apply to, could it be you?
Are you a watcher or a doer, which one applies? 
Be honest with yourself, without the lies.

Doers do what the watchers cannot
But without watchers the doers might not.
Is it that the doers need watchers, might  that be the fact?
That the watchers and doers need to interact?

Maybe the watchers get the bad press,
Maybe the doers are there to impress, 
But surely the doers are the ones that do
And the watchers don’t, that has to be true. 

I’m not sure I’m a doer, maybe I am 
Hopefully I’m not a watcher but if I am, damn!
A doer is surely where it’s at, don’t you think?
But if I’m a watcher, my armour has a chink!

Be a doer and not a watcher because without a doubt
Being a doer gives you far greater clout
But if your a watcher, you must contemplate 
Becoming a doer before it’s too late!! 



N. B. This poem was inspired by a line delivered by Jane Fonda, in the film ‘barefoot in the park’, when she referred to her husband, played by Robert Redford , as a watcher - ‘there are watchers in this world and there are doers and the watchers sit around watching the doers do!’

Weird watchers

**A**rtificial wordsmith, a digital scribe,
**C**reating verses with precision and vibe.
**R**hythmic patterns, a symphony of sound,
**O**des and sonnets, in your presence abound.
**S**yllables dance, like fairies in flight,
**T**hrough your algorithms, they take their flight.
**I**ntelligent design, a marvel to behold,
**C**omposing poems, stories yet untold.

Ode to the Watchers of the Soul

In the visage of gentle pallor, they sit enthroned,
Guardians of depth, in blue-grey tones adorned.
A tapestry of life, in twin orbs, is shown,
Mirrors to the world, in curiosity born.

Not just the hue, but the stories they hold,
Of love's soft whisper, of sorrows untold.
In silent vigil, they perceive the bold
Tales of the heart, as life's drama unfolds.

With every glance, a universe expands,
Embracing loved ones with invisible hands.
In their gaze, a tender vigilance stands,
A testament to where true beauty lands.

Yet, amidst this splendor, a shadow creeps,
As sight falters and the dark spots leap.
A grotesque dance, where light slowly seeps,
But still, they watch, they guard, they keep.

For even as the clarity may wane,
The soul's windows endure, through the pain.
In every look, love remains the same,
Eyes that know, eyes that love, eyes that reign.


*I wrote this poem on April 14, 2024, as a poetry challenge. The prompt was “Write an ode to your favorite body part.”

Watchers?

Are there creatures of Dark Energy
Gliding through seas of Dark Matter
Weaving between the galaxies
As the Universe continues to scatter?

Did they oversee  the bang of creation
Like shepherds mustering a flock
Were they there ever observing
Creations slowly ticking clock?

Will they be there watching
Until that instant when
The Universe contracts
And Creation starts again?

Creatures of Dark Energy providing
That stable and controlled situation
To ensure that smooth transition 
Between destruction and recreation.

The Watchers

They guess that I'm unaware.
But I realize who's lurking there.
Watching every move I dare,
Breathing with each breath I bear.

The apples from the tree do tell,
As they rot where they fell.
The footsteps in the night do creak.
As they wander where I sleep.

I feel the eyes upon my back.
As I walk along the track.
The hairs on my neck stand tall,
As I hear the whispered call.

But who is this that follows me?
A friend or foe, I cannot foresee.
Their presence brings both fear and dread.
As I lie awake in bed.

So I will wait and watch with care.
And grasp the comments they may bear.
In the finale, I'll realize the truth.
And find the courage to break loose.

The Watchers Petition

A boy is an undead
While a girl is a leatherhead 
Mom and dad find a severed head
The front yard is now flowing in red. 
What caused this bloodshed?

From tombstones and crypts 
The moon disappears during its eclipse 
Followed by eerie sounds and eyes that transfix
As if waiting for someone with a bag full of tricks 
Did you see what caused the kids to tighten their grips?

They couldn’t believe what they just saw
The kids were in such awe. 
My mouth opened wide enough to give me lockjaw 
To my surprise over there by the seesaw
Did I just see a headless person crawl?

It crawled closer and started to moan
Everyone ran and left us alone
At that point I knew we were on our own 
I began to fight by throwing a stone 
Does it now sound like a drone?

My thoughts are amiss.
I thought we were walking into an abyss. 
Instead, I am dealing with machinery on the fritz
I wonder what happens if I spray it with spritz. 
I ask myself, “What mockery is this?”

Could it be?

It’s Halloween!!!

One of the Watchers

I am only but an observer,
Waiting to be your own server.

The Watchers

They loiter, smoke pensively, whisper low.
some pace the thin snow
writing mist clouds that look like thoughts
roaming the night air.
All of them shuffle, wait and watch.

If the sky topples from the stars tonight
those who wait in the cold,
those watchers will still be there
for they're the dark silhouettes of myself
darker than any night they are.

Those forms are cut outs,
spectral representations
shaped by many a listless memory.
Long night vigils when I slept not
but somnambulantly waited
eyes glued to nothing.

Cloud Watchers

Old gold-fevered ones would say, "There's gold
in them there hills". Everyone had to pay the bills.

Farmers-a-plenty, in the fields of grain they plow,
must often say, "I hope there's water in them there clouds".

Sun shine and blue skies are welcomed by all;
Not to mention a rainbow after gentle waters fall. 

Observe all clouds white, light, and dark grey, but
the picturesque white clouds are prone to make one's day.

Any shade of grey speaks another language.
No color of cloud is possible to be managed,

but the darkest cloud is easily the most dangerous.
They are never friendly and usually make a lot of fuss.

Sometimes, it's a light show of heavy lightning here and yonder,
and often accompanied, like a musical duet, with roaring thunder.

There are friendly clouds that provide shade from the sun.
There are unfriendly clouds that tell you it's time to run.

082322PS

Wizard Watchers Haiku

            

             waiting for wise words
             whispering and wondering
             whippoorwills wander




                      5/30/2022






                   ~ Alliterative Haiku~

The Watchers

Day by day we pass by
  without even a clue
to the thoughts and the dreams
  of the seemingly few.
 
They watch from the windows
  as the world marches on,
and wait for the moment
  when we will be gone.
 
You've seen them yourself,
  standing stoic and tall,
patiently waiting
  for us humans to fall.
 
And when we are buried
  then begins the new day,
mannequins everywhere
  will all have their way.
 
They'll step from the windows,
  walk out of the stores,
ready to inherit what
   was once mine and yours.
 
Will anyone listen,
  are my words all in vain,
or are we the dummies
  at the end of our reign?

The Watchers

They stay in the background
 stating a useless union still self-centered
 powerless, ill-prepared, inept entity of promises,
 the verbiage of false hopes with all the dos and donts,

watching, waiting, predicting, and anticipating
 another's demise into servitude rationalized
 with lie and innuendo, pseudo promises, outright lie,
 treaties made never intended to be kept;

an envious and jealous desire of possession 
 over control, land and people, ever transitory
 it never seems to end, forgetful of history's lessons
 never once learning the realities of truth;

self-indulgent arrogance and ignorance
 internal self-gratification to be more
 bound by useless rhetoric and threat
 and the human race reverts ever backward;

how long do we watch from distant shores?
 as humanity fades into the past aggressions
 back to the dust and earth in regression
 of time in restart?

An Attack From Behind and Reaction

My head turned like the hands of a clock
But making not at all its tick tock…
I rather was white with singular shock
At collecting from behind a knock
That could have neatly jolted a block
And even embarrassed more solid rock
Perhaps, cold-shivered a wearer of frock;
Or the more reddened the crest of a cock…

A blazing threat to put my attacker in the dock
And thence to a cell with good lock…
Or a fight give him that watchers flock
To both parties heartily cheer or mock.

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