Poems by Bobby7 ( Archived) (31)

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

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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

Writers’ Block
By Bobby7


I can hear my heart strings hummin',
I sense better times a comin’,
I've found a way to crack my mental block!
I gassed up both of my gennys,
Went out and bought a bunch of ‘Bennies’...
‘Cause it could be, I'll be writing 'round the clock!

When I get stuck, or worse, if I evoke the writer's curse,
And the screen on my computer just stays blank
Then I can sit, hour on hour, doin’ all within my power,
To find those damned words hidin' in my tank.

So, I'll pass this on to you, and no matter what do,
Try it out, and if you don’t. then; Don’t you knock it !
'Stead of sittin’ here all night, I simply shock my self to write..
I stick my finger in the handiest wall socket.

Though I anticipate some smirks, I can assure you that it works
For, I've tried it six or seven times before.
I can feel my essence growin', and the words just start a flowin'
When I finally pick myself up off the floor.

Serene Solitude.
by Bobby7

I strapped my guitar on my back and headed down the road
Circumstance, the last few weeks, put me on overload
And so I walked the woods a while, until I felt serene
And felt such joy, when I got back to where I've always been

I stopped beside a babbling brook, and listened to it sing
I played along with my guitar, and we made our music ring.
I softly strummed my guitar strings, and felt inner peace return
Mother Nature's generous in giving lessons there to learn

And now, I'm back, I must confess, That I feel so refreshed
I find many things relaxing, but Mother Nature does it best
I didn't meet a single soul for the two days I was gone.
My anger's dissipated, and I'm now eager to go on

So if my tone is mellower; One thing I'll say, for sure.
A walkabout with 'Nature Gal', was, without a doubt, the cure
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Sorry, Lady..I have one for you that I wrote in the woods.
Can't find the little note book..When I do; It's yours..lol

©Bobby7

The Peaceful Place
By Bobby7

For Lady

I sit here in this forest glade, in quiet solitude
These shadows all around me, reflect my somber mood
The brook that babbles on its way, a few paces down the path
Is singing me a sweet refrain. I feel it wash away my wrath.

I’ve brought my faithful friend along, She; of the silver strings
In her music, I can dream, and think of peaceful things
I think that I will sleep tonight, my world lit by yonder star
As I fall asleep, I hear a train; its whistle echoes from afar

I’ve a tiny fire going, for all day I gathered wood
Though I return tomorrow, I’d wish to stay here if I could
I awake just briefly, and put on a few small logs
And fall asleep accompanied by some softly croaking frogs.

I brought some poems with me, and I’ll read some when I wake
I wish I’d brought the poets, too, but notes were all that I could take.
I miss the friends and all their works; I miss Lady, JD, too
I miss Om, and Drea, and Pickles, and all the poets, old and new

But I’ll share this spot with Lady, if you should ever feel the need
For this lovely, green and, vibrant place, has calmed my soul, indeed.
And, there were times, within your poems, where I sensed you were in pain
The next time that I am hurting, I’ll be back here again


So here are the directions, and when memories start to stalk
You can’t get lost, not with this map;..If your heart needs the walk
You’ll find the place refreshing, even if just for a night
But hurry back tomorrow, and tell me if I’m right.

©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

Freedom
by Bobby7

Weep not, my children, I am free, from my suffering and my pain.
Love your family, friends and Life, until we meet again.
I have seen my share of grief; I've seen lots of good times too
But most of all, I had the joy of raising all of you

I haven't been the perfect man, Is there really such a thing?
I tried to be the perfect Dad, and gave my every thing.
I look at you, you're all grown up, and busy with your lives
And like your Dad, you've all been blessed,
With good husbands and good wives

I know your Mom was very proud, right up until she died
We were not the perfect parents, but, the good Lord knows we tried.
So, hug your babies every day, the happiness will come
Don't mourn for me; For I am free, I've gone to meet your Mom.

It is strange, when we are born, that we are destinded to our fate
For me and Mom, in God's bright land

It will be like our first date

©Bobby7 2006

An Island
by Bobby7

My world is wet, the river's up, and more rain's on the way
It looks like I might need a boat to get to town today.
There's water all around the house; it's drowning our new seeds.
A little sun and dryness is what our county needs.

It's risin' o'er the railroad tracks; the cows took to the hills.
The chickens flew into the trees, or, are roosting in the mills.
It's too deep to run the tractor and to salvage all our hay.
And on the radio, I heard, we're gonna get more rain today.

I'm looking out the window; there's water everywhere.
The folks in town have called to say they've lodgin's we can share.
But, we don't want to leave our home, where our children were all born.
Abandonin’ the farm would make the future so forlorn.

T he creek has overrun the fields, devourin’ good top-soil.
As I watch the devastation, my blood begins to boil.
We've worked so hard to make this place our little paradise.
I'll pray tonight: A little sun, and blue skies, would be nice.

A boat went by, just filled with folks that are headed into town.
A cat is floatin’ by the house. I hope that it won't drown.
My boy just plucked it from the water; it's safe inside with him.
Lightning' hit the power lines, and our lights are gettin’ dim.

The young'uns just don't understand what's happenin’ to our place.
The look of consternation shows plainly on each face.
They just can't comprehend the flood, and the havoc all around.
They wonder why they see their friends all heading into town.

Well, it might be time to pull the plug, and leave for town, I guess.
I wonder just what we can save, or salvage from this mess.
Mother Nature can be cruel, and toy with rain and sun.
They say, "No man's an island". But, our farm will soon be one.

But, we might wait to see if we can hang on one more day.
It's hard to leave and watch our hopes and dreams just float away.
I'm gonna get down on my knees and try our safety net,
For forty years, through joy and tears,

The Lord ain't failed me yet...

©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