Home » Poems » Best » Keith Logan » Best Keith Logan Poems

Best Poems Written by Keith Logan

Below are the all-time best Keith Logan poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Keith Logan Poem

Lady In Waiting

A thousand years ago and more
upon a strange and distant shore
a maiden wept.
She watched and waited long in vain
within her heart a mounting pain,
she seldom slept.

O that my love might come to me
she cried her silent, doleful plea,
a stifled moan.
The sun would rise, the sun would set,
and still the lovers never met,
she stood alone.

Then hove a sail in view one dawn
as seabirds sang in tuneful song
to welcome home,
the one whose heart ached for the maid
with fortune won, his plans were laid,
no more to roam.

Details | Keith Logan Poem

My Heart Belongs To You

My heart I found belonged to you;
ached to be by your side again!
And wondered did you love me too?

Or had you missed a vital clue,
and suffered I alone in vain?
My heart I found belonged to you.

While this discovery yet was new,
I wept to feel my heart might drain,
and wondered did you love me too?

The depth of feeling inward grew,
I fought composure to maintain!
My heart I found belonged to you.

I thought about what might ensue,
if I should make my feelings plain!
And wondered did you love me too?

I fret now over time we knew,
innocent past would fain sustain!
My heart I found belongs to you,
and wonders do you love me too?

Details | Keith Logan Poem

Beauty Is

Her profile’s not a perfect silhouette,
she bares no shapely leg or heaving breast;
the voice not of a nightingale coquette
enslaving countless men it has impressed.
She cannot hover like a bird in flight
nor even glide with poise across the floor;
she will not set a lusting world alight
where men are beating pathways to her door.

But she’s a lovely lady none the less,
the winning smile within her eyes one part;
a bubbly nature flowing to excess
shares love and joy that overfills her heart.
 
Felicitous affection thus belies
the notion--beauty's pleasing to the eyes.

Details | Keith Logan Poem

A Gentleman

To walk the way of truth,
to live within one’s dreams
may seem the way of fools.
But fortitude of youth
rejects life’s wicked schemes,
obeying inner rules.

His journey once begun
won’t see his pathway blurred.
A gentleman is one
survives by law of word.

Content a heart is free,
life not lived by degree.

Details | Keith Logan Poem

Carabao

That Carabao advert grabs the screen
one jumps through many hoops to just log out
I know not what ad may really mean
but something so obrtrusive I'll live without.

Details | Keith Logan Poem

Nessie

Well I remember yon fine day
down by the deep Loch Ness.
I cast my fly so far away
which soon caused me distress.

Instead of hooking trout out there
on mud banks thick and messy.
Stepped through flat fish floundering where
I had to battle Nessie.

I wrestled her as you have guessed
though that was not my plan.
I only wished for herring dressed
not pilchards from a can.

It took a while to free the line
that Nessie had entangled.
I found my rod, my tackle, twine
hopelessly were mangled.

She gave a roll of victory
and left at a great rate.
Then I saw looking full at me
her own enormous mate.

Glad to say they went their way
and left me on the bank.
Now each day I sit and pray
and wonder who to thank.

Details | Keith Logan Poem

That Summer

Steam rose upon the sticky day that summer,
as surreal strangeness to the mist set in.
We stepped to beats played by a mystic drummer,
and waited for enchantment to begin.

Reflecting back, I wonder why we stopped,
to loiter there upon that hallowed ground.
How ill prepared we were for what then dropped,
the fearful secret soon to be unbound.

Four college kids whose light was set to dim,
by foolishly embarking on a dream;
a manuscript unearthed by fortune’s whim,
tormented us into a reckless scheme.

We sought to find a fortune down below,
observing the instructions in the scroll;
no thought for how the consequences grow,
or that the devil always takes his toll.

That empty tomb where once the ghoul would lie,
dark errant knight of twisted gallantry;
in death disturbed by dreams of days gone by,
still punished here for all eternity.

I never fully grasped what happened next,
how we escaped with liberty and health,
but ever since obeyed that ancient text,
and never more went seeking others’ wealth.

We do not dare, discuss the dreadful day,
that left us reeling and, just barely sane.
We live forever to repent and pray,
and hope someday to dull the hollow pain.

Though many summers passed, I can’t forget;
I’m older now and hope I am now wise.
I sometimes read that scroll and shudder yet,
believing life itself is our great prize.

Details | Keith Logan Poem

Neater Meter, Almost a Sonnet

I hope someday to write a perfect sonnet
instead of this absurd excuse for meter,
with gentle touch of elegance upon it
and not insipid rhymes as brain cells peter.
Another time I’ll switch on my computer
then type away to keyboard’s friendly clicks,
I’ll finish with a flourish, a sharpshooter,
no longer this dispenser of old tricks.

But maybe I am still a hapless dreamer
whose trite expressions drone to no effect,
a man without a muse, a hopeless schemer,
still not an ounce of talent to detect.

When scansion throughout does not read well;
pray God, grant freedom from iambic hell.

Details | Keith Logan Poem

Nonsense In Sonnet Form

Oh that in truth I might report to thee
a love that swells and rages like the sea.
Forsooth I state this missive as a plea,
that thou not turn thy face away from me.
A noble spirit takes not any glee
in knowing that within it holds a key;
this wounded heart can never now be free
excepting by the words of thy decree.

Oh let it be, that I from thee might flee
not like a bee, that darts beneath a tree
too blind to see, who bends upon one knee
to pay his fee; annoying little flea!

My ramble run, the end is all agley,
mayhap I should inquire dost thou agree?

Details | Keith Logan Poem

Firnham Wood

Firnham Wood 
 
The day dawned bright with autumn gold
where slits of light cut through the wold,
bright flowers stood.
A blessing rang of bird and song
as waters lapped the while along
by Firnham Wood.

At length red flame turned indigo
the moon appeared a distant glow
where blackness fell.
In shifting shades of eerie light
that pressed the silence of the night,
a lonely bell.
 
There in the pitch of midnight dark
reflecting on the hoary bark,
a flickered flame.
As to and fro it cast about
grotesque gyrations that standout,
in this time-frame.
 
When shadows take on shades of life
and sounds are tremblings of strife,
so we believe.
No other date within the year
can fill the darkness with such fear,
All Hallows Eve.

Now homeward bound, the church-bell rings,
caught by a draft it once more swings
in dawn's grey light.
That cast off cigarette burned slow,
the fire it lit, a furtive glow,
to all, goodnight.