Hit me with some Poetry ( Archived) (208)

Yes this is very consoling to anyone whos lost a loved one....I've seen this before.

LOVE
You're quiet when words would just intrude
You're wisdom for you listen to a mood
You're gentle as you open the naive eye
You're responsive to each and every cry
Life is worthwhile because you exist

by: Jojo4 (joan)

it does not rush foolishly
it does not embrace hatred
it makes you work the effort continously
it embraces harmony effortlessly
it grows strong but needs to be fed
it aims and hits victims precisely
in all things, love

A Visit To The Halls
by Bobby7

Last night, sleep eluded me, and I stared at four bare walls.
So I let my mind take me away to visit Haggard's Halls.
I knew the paths that I must take, our friend, Paul, showed us the way.
And I knew the risks of going there, and so I knelt to pray.

I prayed the Lord to let me live, and to bring to you this tale.
Then I stood before the great Hall's doors, the moon was cold and pale.
Inside, I heard such cries of pain, and shrieks from untold maimed.
And, from within, I heard a voice that was calling out my name.

The smell of blood and butchery was heavy on the air.
Dare I take the chance, and go inside, knowing well how I might fare?
The Hall's doors slowly opened wide and I peered into the haze.
Then, the keeper of this torture pit chanced to fall within my gaze.

No mortal man; So tall, so dark, with eyes as black as sin.
He howled with glee, and beckoned me; "Well, Robert!... Please step in!".
Inside I saw the cold, dank walls, adorned with hooks and chains.
And heard the cries of endless souls enduring endless pains.

Rats and spiders everywhere, and bloodstains on the stones,
And in every room within these Halls, were piles of human bones.
The cries and moans that filled the air, from victims not yet dead,
Froze my mind, and filled my heart and soul with awful dread.

I wished to run; I couldn't move, I was held by evil's power.
And I felt that I would forfeit life, and be doomed, within the hour.
Then, suddenly; I was awake, and shivering in my bed,
The cries of all those tortured souls still ringing in my head.

But; This was no dream; For I was there, inside those hateful Halls.
And I can tell you, stone by stone, the contours of the walls.
Now I lie here, and shake with fear: There's good reason for my fright.
The dreadful things I witnessed there, have turned my dark hair white!

So, stay away, and save your souls, I warn you; one and all.
I played the fool, and now I pay. Lord, I wish I'd heeded Paul.
So let Haggard's Halls, and our friend Paul, those gruesome secrets keep.

But; Woe is me, I'm oh, so tired,

*Yet,… too afraid to sleep.*

©Bobby7/2006

Re-Visiting My Demons
by Bobby7

It had been nearly fifteen years, since I stood before these Halls.
And reflected on the secrets that it held within its walls.
In my mind I saw the many souls that the creature held in chains.
I still hear the shrieks of agony as he distributed his pains.

I saw, in my mind's eye, the hooks, adorned with writhing men.
The pools of blood, and all the rats, that scampered through his den.
I remembered his forbidding face, as I watched it twist in glee.
As his masterpiece of butchery, was so proudly shown to me.

I heard a doomed man's assertion, another foolish man, like me
That the fiend had captured my friend, Paul. I was here to set him free.
I recalled those horrid memories that have haunted me for years.
But, I knew that to complete my quest, I must put aside my fears.

As night set in, I heard a sound that made my heart rejoice.
Though it was dim, I recognized; My friend Paul! The Poet's voice!
And now, I must devise a plan, to spirit my friend out.
It must be sound and silent; lest he suspect that I'm about.

I knew he had keen senses, after all, he's not a man,
So I mulled it over in my mind, each nuance of my plan.
The moon appeared, so cold and pale, and pushed the clouds aside.
An evil glow reached out, to cloak the surrounding countryside.

Another thought occurred to me: A plan that well might work,
And I sought out his familiar that was hiding in the murk.
By nature, I'm a gentle soul; I'd hurt neither beast nor man.
But, I thought about my good friend, Paul. My God! I think I can!

I tied the foul familiar, to a twisted oak tree's limb.
I gathered stones, my mind rebelled, but: I threw the rocks at him.
The creature's cries were loud and shrill; they pierced the silent night.
They caught the fiend's attention, for I saw candle light.

Then the monster stood before the Halls and my courage nearly died.
He called my name, and promised death, and, much worse; he implied.
As he searched for his familiar, he vented cries of wrath.
I slipped inside! I freed my friend! We then bolted down the path!

By now, the moon was in retreat, and we ran by dawn's dim light.
But even in the gray of dawn, I saw Paul's hair was white.
As we ran along the forest trail, with the monster in pursuit,
I tripped and fell, a creeping vine, had wrapped around my boot.

That saved my life, for as I fell, I saw a bolt of fire flash.
It hit a tree that fell to earth with a muffled, tortured crash.
We were unsure of where we were, or the distance we had run,
But, as if in answer to my prayers, Behold! The rising sun.

The fiend that was pursuing us, paused, then, turned away.
For, it could not abide the blessed sun, and, it slept throughout the day.
So, we escaped, and to this day, this idea's mine, not Paul's.

We don't discuss what came about,

...Nor, speak of Haggard's Halls...

©Bobby7/2006

Honourable Death
by Bobby7

The scene; Surreal. The crowd; Alive!...Excitement in the air!
A test of skill and bravery; Let's look on. Do we dare?
Two men locked in mortal strife, and one will surely die.
They mount their steeds, salute the crowd, and point their swords up to the sky.

Their weapons flash, their horses rear, spectators hold their breath.
For they sense that they'll be witnessing, an Honorable Death.
Their horses gallop down the lane, a blood cry rends the air!
The Blue knight's down, his visor smashed, blood flowing everywhere.

He gains his feet, and staunchly 'waits his adversary's moves.
His wait is short; His foe is here, amid the thundering hooves.
He stands his ground, their weapons flash..So loud, the clashing steel!
They hack at one other, with a passion one can feel...

The sand is bloodied at their feet, their mail, a gory mess.
They lunge, they stab, they thrust, they feint; a savage, primal test.
The crowd, as one, is on its feet! The Blue knight's down once more.
His foe stands back, his sword upraised, as we watch the life blood pour.

Grey knight asks the hungry crowd if Blue knight lives or dies.
The answer's plain, and so, He acquiesces to their cries.
He plunges down his bloody sword, and slays his gallant foe.
Remounts his steed, uplifts his sword, and turns around to go.

The Grey knight rides back down the lane, and stops before the King.
The Monarch smiles, as does the Queen; She then throws the knight a ring.
One man in the crowd asked why the Blue knight had to die.
But, I could find no rhyme or reason, and it made me want to cry.

The death of any brave young man is such a dreadful thing.

But, "Where?", I ask, is honour?

Blue knight slaughtered for a ring?

©Bobby7/2006

Poetry Express
by Bobby7

While Sharon visits Ronnie. I can live it up in style.
And concentrate on poetry, that hasn't happened for a while.
The computer room's quite messy, strewn papers all around.
As I conjure up the magic words, buried here, on hallowed ground.

I've no wood to build a fire, and the room has grown quite cold.
And what's that, on my sandwich? My God...It looks like mould.
The cats are scratching at the door. When's the last time they've been fed?
If Sharon sees her starving beasts, then, I might as well be dead.

A poet's world's a jumble of frustration, sweat, and pain.
As they coax the blessed/cursed pen, and, sometime. all in vain.
And just when they've abandoned hope, and sunk into despair.
The magic words, come floating in, like that!...As if on air.

I can sit, and write and find no rhyme, and then, try and try again.
But to get it right, I need a ride on the Struggling Poet's Train.
If I tried explaining this...to people who don't write.
I'd be wasting time, and maybe rhyme, though, I could prattle half the night.

The Poet's Train's a state of mind attained by very few.
It rushes in to Poet's Square, with words and rhyme anew.
Its whistle's not a mournful sound, no, not to those who wait.
To pick and plunder poetry, that it carries in its freight.

And so, as I await the Train, and the words I hope to find
I sit here like an imbecile, a vacuum for a mind.
But wait, what’s that I hear, the Train is pulling in.
And yes! It brought me what I need, so I can write again.

At last I have the words I sought, and I really must confess
I wept for joy to find them there, on the Poetry Express.
And now I must clean up this house, and put my pen away.
My poem is done,

The Train is gone.

And, the wife comes home today..

©Bobby7/2006

I May Not Be
by Bobby7

I may not be the smartest man that ever walked this Earth.
But, I examine all the facts, to determine what they're worth.

I may not the kind of man that would stand out in the crowd,
But, I'll always stand behind my friends, and, of that, I'm very proud.

I may not be the kind of man to pass each and every test,
But I am the kind of man who will always give his best.

I may not the kind of man you'd want for company,
I'm a rough around the edges, and that's the way I'll always be.

So, if you stop to chat with me; and if I seem uncouth.
Just fire away your questions, and you'll always hear the truth.

I may not be the kind of man you'd like to call your friend,
But, I'm there each time I'm called upon, and I'll be there 'til the end

And if you think I'm not the man that you think I should be,
Well, when I look into a mirror, a nice man's looking back at me.

I may not be a lot of things that you would have me be...
Diversity's the "Spice of Life"...

That's why You're You...and I am me.

©Bobby7/2006

If Only
By Bobby7

If only I could write a poem that everyone could read,
Then I’d know, within my deepest heart, that I’d done well, indeed.

If only I could write a poem that would bring the whole world peace,
Make us brothers; make us sisters and make the bloodshed cease.

If only I could write a poem that would melt the hardest heart,
And tear down all the fences that are keeping us apart.

If only I could write a poem that would lift a troubled soul,
Then I would reap a bounty that’s more precious than pure gold.

If only I could write a poem that would cause an eye to tear,
And let my brothers and my sisters pass through life without a fear.
I
If only I could write a poem that would let all see the sun,
Then, I’d gladly put away my pen. For I’d know my work was done.

©Bobby7/2006