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Best Poems Written by Gerald Webb

Below are the all-time best Gerald Webb poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Nicaragua

Existence of this ageless tomb
another sense given to invoke.
Resurrected from a socialist womb
with a success left to provoke.

Two firey breasted beasts will greet,
few miles across a frontier.
Cloud capped and complete
a glowing moment of fear.

This was a 'land of the not quite right' 
and its claws had a strenghtening grip.
The genius of Dario's write
offers us only a shorten clip.

Isolated by forces within
or controlled by powers from out.
The feel in your heart is akin
to a home, that, I have no doubt.
 
A step back to where we know
yet two steps forward to what we don't.
Where yawning smiles are a flow
and abundant treasures mount.

Future turmoil continues rife
harden hands tells its story.
It's people adapt to their strife,
returning it to a former glory.

Fire remains in the blood:
the music, the dance akin-
nor presume or nor you should,
the passion that lies within.

(Nicaragua, A Beautiful country)(http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/7898927.stm)

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A World Away

Laborer and oxen are drawn
to slumber and to toil.
trodden fields of dawn
through basalt seeded soil.

A consistent daily chore
broken and blistered skin
farming out of folklore
the spirit from within.

An iron age passes by,
ploughed by tools of wood

Faces etched, livelihood.

(The traditional farmers of Nicaragua)

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Aurora

Dark knights to dark days
communities left in stun
cowards make a celebration pay
barrels smoking, billowing gun

tragedy split in tears 
loaded myths of insanity

catching the breath of it's fears
another moment of crucifying humanity

curdling thoughts, flowing alone
hostage to the power of none
Constitutions need to atone
before glorious doves burn

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Play Me a Memory

A desired flavorsome taste
wanting a cure of a dried out mouth
leading to a mindlessness of waste
liquidly solving a quenching drought

Numbing a charisma of memories
longing for the hazy shades
wiping away loathed theories
a smoldering fetish that slowly fades

A quenched lurch of lust
beggars a sad lonely time
shelving the shell of trust
left only a bitter slice of lime

Muddled thoughts left dehydrated
sidelined by disgust
feelings abandoned and un-exhilarated
a film coated tasting of must.

Drenched and soaked to the bone
blurred eyed and bleary
a time not to be left alone
it's time to play for me, a memory.

Details | Gerald Webb Poem

Gateway To Hell

Tales of sacrificed fear
on scared tortured terrain
wild strengths smoldering beneath
tantrums of the fractious.

Gateway opens, rocks vault, liquids spew
fires burn and soil creep

Vented anger, terrifyingly unleashed
scarped lands and chard boulders
tinged bushes, strewn trees
flowed hard blackened beds

Gateway to Hell, Masaya volcano, Nicaragua.

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San Blas

No man can resist a stay,
a jewel of sovereignty
where real boys play.
No inkling of poverty
can describe your land,
its beauty and its deserted clay.

Strangled by loss of wisdom
they come to seek your truth.
Children dance in tandem
living off the fruit.
Moreover perplexed by innocence,
a thought you have instilled,
a people of obedience
hope, fun and goodwill.

They continue their darkened ways
while you continue to play.
They return to a life that pays 
back to their cities of decay.
Your strength is what they seek,
your simplicity unrivaled or matched. 
What hope prevents the meek?
While honesty of core, remains unscratched!


(Dedicated to my friends of the Kuna Yala tribe of the San Blas, autonomous region of panama)

Details | Gerald Webb Poem

Fall From Grace

Sparkle from a whitened tooth
a seamless movement of pace,
enslavement in catholic youth
buried under a veil of lace.

Elegance from a pearl white gown
truth hidden from her face,
under a studded crystal crown,
in slender and with grace.

Dreams of a forever and ever.

An eternity set for revamp,
taunted by a death of a ghost
images of an ivory camp
long life and regal host

(Princess Charlene Lynette Wittstock)

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Democracy Kills

Subjects queue for choices less seldom

sewn seeds ready to sprout,
fleeting moments of freedom,
governments consumed in filth and grout.

Primordial resistance prepares,
soldiers wait and scout,
democratic fulfillment dares,
shattered peoples, voices shout.

Tortured by feelings of trust 
fortunes for elitists to flout.

Contrariety of notions reflect,
streets abandoned, emptied of clout,
misdealt and sorrowful hearts misled,

fallen foes, voices pout.
 

(fledgling nations, North Africa)

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Buried Alive

Soup kitchens,
holed shoes, torned pocket

Shared bed,
stenched wall, damped floor

City siren,
whispering ally, neon glare

Brown bag,
trembling hand, goosed skin

Silked lined crombie,
blackened nails, matted hair

Stray dog,
molded bread, scavanged bin
 
Lost lust,
torn soul, wretched hope

Dedicated to "Boxcar Brian"

Details | Gerald Webb Poem

Folly-Ism

Worlds great monuments as they stand,
every civilization builds its own.
Pyramids and towers are built so grand,
from the Wall to the Colosseum of Rome.
What drives a mans great desire,
from glass, to steel, to brick.
To build a building, higher and higher
the race seems to get ever more quick.
Unsatisfied and alone,
a want to spend and splurge,
one thinks of madness, he searches to atone.
Cemented ivy, useless solvency,
time passes with recumbency .