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Best Poems Written by Tom Woody

Below are the all-time best Tom Woody poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Tom Woody Poem

*Note
I had to bring this one back, though I've been posting mostly new writes here that PS hasn't seen before. This poem has been edited many times over the years. I consider it to be among my best. The meter and rhyme structure are borrowed from the final stanza in the famous Poe poem, Tamarlane. One of the theories proffered as to how Poe died is rabies. I just took it a step further. This won't be everyone's cup of tea, since it is old style traditional poetry. Still, I hope you like it.

Come close and learn the mystery
buried long ago on yonder hill.
The truth revealed in whisp'ring wind
was veiled these past two centuries-
a penance paid for wanton sin?
(To swallow this most bitter pill
cast down my throat against my will
has left me in a troubled state,
and yet this tale I must relate).
An evil gale on that night blew
and terrors that he never knew
would visit him in black of night
as threats were made demanding flight-
he sought out refuge in the heights.
No starry night to light the sky,
no moon o’er head the sky to ply-
just darkness thick as London fog
as ebon creature took to wing-
his old unearthly mystagogue
hovered o’er head - a ghostly thing.

And the raven flew into the night
And the raven flew into the night

(Earlier that night)

A wager made the ante in-
the loser who for want of heart
throws in his last remaining coins
and prays tonight’s the night he’ll win.
The dealer laughs and then enjoins
each one to play, the game to start
before the twilight should depart.
He loses all but pleads to stay-
his title deed now on display.
And so once more a playing hand
is dealt before a wretched band
of sharks who’d never prayed to God,
whose backs had often felt the rod-
the holy path they’d never trod.
But fate once more would him aggrieve-
no winning card hid in his sleeve.
Without a friend or place to go
he leaves the hall with face aghast
and whispers words of hope and woe,
“O that this night might quickly pass."

And the raven flew toward the east
And the raven flew toward the east

The deed a closer look is made
and ‘fore too long ‘tis evident
that all is not quite as it seems-
‘twas nothing but a rook's charade.
Revenge is now the plan they scheme-
this band of thugs with cruel intent
on finding Poe are now hellbent.
And so into the night they sped
with brutish beasts inspiring dread,
the rabid dogs held fast by chain
in chilling wind, in blinding rain.
A movement in the distance seen-
a man alone or so it seems,
the hounds set loose in low ravine.
Their prey runs high upon the hill,
each howl his craven spine would chill
until ill fate caught up with him-
his future prospects rather grim.
The evil jaws upon him clenched,
he screams aloud before the fall,
the poison in his blood entrenched-
delirium soon cast its pall.

And the raven flew toward the light
And the raven flew toward the light

There as he lay upon yon hill,
the chase now o'er, the silence sweet,
he gazes 'bove into the night
as clearing clouds betide goodwill.
He sees an angel dressed in white
and hears a steady rhythmic beat,
so low and calm and quite discreet.
The heavens part to his delight-
the figure standing in the light
extends to him an outstretched hand-
a voice like waters bids him stand.
He wonders now if just a dream
or are things really as they seem-
a voice or just a nearby stream?
Then suddenly he feels no pain
as wind abates and same the rain.
The hand then grabs him by the throat,
another tears his woolen coat,
his life flashed up before his eyes
and thro’ the brightly illumed sky
he sees Miss Clemm to his surprise
whose mournful plea to him is, “Why?”

And the raven flew into the sun
And the raven flew into the sun

He breathed his last then bade goodbye,
that troubled bard who’d gone awry-
the mystery resolved at last
on how it was that Edgar passed.
And if you wonder how I know
these secrets held from long ago…

Details | Tom Woody Poem

Winds of Change

sweet zephyr breezes 
jasmine empress butterflies 
rainbows in our sky

                                           silence once golden
                                           angelic voices trumpet
                                           song of the poet

unity breeds strength
moonbeams in togetherness
sunlight for each one

                                           living in the now
                                           join the love revolution
                                           smile on your brother

seeker of eden
no longer searching alone
bards in harmony

Details | Tom Woody Poem

Emergent

And yes, she will rise and conquer

She is queen of her own destiny

Her spirit is indomitable 

Her eyes aflame with passion 

Her warrior heart beats to its own drum

She will not just survive-
(let the world take note)


but thrive



*Dedicated to all warrior princesses, wherever they may be found

** Poetry on photo art mine

Details | Tom Woody Poem

Rainbows on the Moon

in hyacinth and heather my true love dwells
and in lush lavender her bones rest in peace
no mere human can project nor can foretell
when in this life one's vitality may cease
yet this I know and of this I can be sure
that her soul was white as snow and truly pure
thus in God's new world I know I'll see her soon
and together we'll chase rainbows on the moon





* Inspired by Chris Bowring's wonderful rispetto as well as others

Details | Tom Woody Poem

Superstar

The adoring crowd here at Red Rocks amphitheatre awaits. Tonight, like every night, I will go out there and give them my best. They will show their love by means of applause and whistles. When I am on the stage it's like being on top of the world. The adrenalin rushing through my veins gives me a high that is hard to explain. I am invincible, indestructible, free. 

What the fans don't know is how terribly lonely I am. Each night, after the performance, I go back to my hotel room and try to drink the emptiness away. Food has become a loathsome thing to me. I starve myself to give them the look they crave, the stick-thin waif living the rock star life. I die a little after each show. How I abhor this life. And yet the fame addiction is too strong. I hate it and desire it all at once. To become comfortably numb before I enter dream world is the best I can hope for.

Well, I've just received my cue. Time to give them what they want. If only they could understand that what I really need is someone to hold my hand, to tell me everything will be okay, that I am loved whether I perform or not, that I am a good person, that I have worth just as I am. But for tonight, the show must go on. I am a puppet on a string. And they, the puppeteers.

playing the fame game
standing on top of the world
empty soulless life


"Fame has a tendency to destroy otherwise good people" - Me

Details | Tom Woody Poem

Let Me Be the One

When fallacious friends fail and break you in two
let me be the one-
to help you feel worthy and whole

And when slithering serpents slander your name
let me be the one-
to defend it and stand by your side

When your lioness libido lets loose
let me be the one-
to send you to the moon and beyond (again and again)

And when tender tears of joy trickle softly 
let me be the one-
to share in those moments of bliss

When worrisome woes of this world drag you down
let me be the one-
to offer you hope and a dream

And when dismal depression ends in collapse
let me be the one-
to rise up and set you on high

 
Yes, my love, let me be the one

to be your always

and everything-

forever


*simple Sunday scribble

Details | Tom Woody Poem

Kensington Avenue

"Sweet child in time,
you'll see the line
the line that's drawn between
good and bad"

Having cold sweats again in this godforsaken ninety degree heat. Shivering uncontrollably. God, what I'd do for a warm comforter right now. Zombies all around me mumbling incoherent poetry no one understands or even cares to hear. Young people half my age or less without souls, without heart, without vision.

Nam 1968. The nightmares won't stop even now, fifty-six years later. Nineteen years old. Just a kid. What did I know about good and bad, right from wrong? I did what I was told just like everyone else. When I was young, I used to dream of Eden.

"See the blind man
shooting at the world
bullets flying
taking toll"

Deep in the jungle, trying to rest but sleep is elusive. Out of the corner of my eye I espy a young child, a girl I think. Or is it just a dream? She looks ragged, hungry, sad. Tears are streaming down her cheeks as she stumbles through the brush toward us. The air is suffocating, a train is rolling through my head when suddenly I hear a blast from an M16. Sarge yells "Everyone down!" Then an explosion, but this time I can't hear a thing, just debris flying everywhere. And then the child is no more. When I open my eyes, a tiny hand lay two feet away. So delicate, so precious. What the hell am I doing here?

"You'd better close your eyes
bow your head
wait for the ricochet"

Kensington avenue is hell in the real world. It is here I exist and it is here I will die, homeless, sick and alone. The needle is my one last and true friend, for when I am high I am free. It is then that the dreams of Eden reappear, if but for a moment. I am seventy-five years old now, but I never really got to grow up. For you see, back there, in '68, I was just a child in time.

dreams are illusions
white lady offers solace
forgiveness denied

*Kensington Ave, Philadelphia PA
**Song lyrics from Child in Time by Deep Purple

Details | Tom Woody Poem

Apocalypse Now

Running through the Lost Forest of no tomorrows, my heart beats at warp speed as the hideous howls draw nearer. My thoughts briefly digress to the world I knew before. I had no time for God or religion. My only goals in life were self-centered and ambition oriented. O how I long to return to my yesterdays! I would change my ways and repent. This beast will surely end my life of todays and cast me into an abyss of eternal darkness and oblivion. Instinctively, I get down on my knees and pray, but alas, 'tis too late, too late. My executioner has come upon me. I bow my head and willingly submit to the inevitable. 


Blood red moon tonight
Starry skies have disappeared
Apocalypse now

Details | Tom Woody Poem

Romantic Rendezvous

you're so far away...

tantalizing temptation was always your forte
teasing me, drawing me in
making me yearn for your passionate kiss
desperate to be lured
into your amorous arms 
by those luscious lavender lips
and the sweet scent of your sultry sensuality


alas, my love...

this cruel chasm created by your passing
has left me melancholic 
how I remember our romantic rendezvous
and savor the memories of our marital mergings
bodies entwined in erotic embrace 
reaching heights of euphoric ecstasy
that left us spent and satisfied, time and again

tell me where I can find you...

sun and moon are distant lovers, languishing
in an uncaring universe determined 
to keep them from consummating their vows
even still, every eighteen months or so
they meet at the appointed time
a galactic eclipse where two become one
the cosmos cries out in joyous refrain

wait for me, my beloved...

and tho' sun and moon may fade away into 
an eternal ether of nothingness
my love for you, dear one, shall never wither and die
for ours is a lasting love, destined to deliver
this bereaved soul from the bane of loneliness 
and loss on that great day when our two hearts
reunite in rapturous, rhythmic rhapsody -
forever

a day for a year, a day for a year...

Best Poems Written by Tom Woody

Why I Became a Poet

Poe's Untimely Demise

Winds of Change

Emergent

Rainbows on the Moon

Superstar

Let Me Be the One

Kensington Avenue

Apocalypse Now

Romantic Rendezvous