Best Annals Poems
I welcomed you twenty twenty, a brand spanking new year
But all you brought with you was death, misery and fear
So I'll be glad to see the back of you and cant wait 'till you're gone
And I hope for better times in the year twenty twenty one.
You've left behind some' bad stuff' like covid nineteen
But hopefully it'll be defeated when they roll out the vaccine
Wearing masks and not seeing family, well that's been quite hard
But while you still lurk about, I won't drop my guard.
World leaders were floundering, not quick enough to act
Putting their economies before people and that is a fact
If only they'd looked at history, like the great Spanish flu
They'd have been a lot wiser and would've known what to do.
The news reported acts of kindness in every country
Like front line health workers who risked their lives for humanity
Sadly many of those brave heroes died needlessly
Because governments were too slow to provide proper P. P. E.
Viruses are nothing new and they'll come back again
We must stop destroying mother earth for financial gain
Upsetting natures balance causes these viruses to thrive
Mankind really needs to take notice if he wants to survive.
Cramming animals into cages is a pitiful sight
But mother nature is watching and is preparing to fight
Razing forests and dumping rubbish and polluting the sea
Is a recipe for disaster that'll bring untold misery.
So good riddance or go do one, many people will say
I'd remove all records of you if I had my way
People will always remember you for bringing misery and tears
And there will be much joy and relief as twenty twenty one nears.
When the clock strikes midnight, so happy I'll be
As twenty twenty sinks into the dark annals of history
But stay awake mankind and listen to the experts that know
I don't want to be the one saying "well I told you so".
Written 27th December 2020
2020 to 2021 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Mohan Chutani
I hope to grace this page today
With musings from my soul
And write between the lines
The greatest story every told
In trails of crimson etchings
Bleeding from an open heart
As line by line my inhibitions
Simply fall apart
A spirit free from earthly bonds
Oblivious to time
Whilst drifting through the annals
Of something so sublime
As daylight turns again to night
To break another dawn
As I and my muse
Write... on and on and on
Blessed are those
who love God, the
God of love and
mercy
Blessed are those
who follow one God,
who leads with
compassion showing
mercy
Cursed are those
who follow the Prince
of darkness, who fell
from Heaven dragged
down by the weight
Lesser Ego --
He who shows no Mercy
will be shown no Mercy
A Terrorist is the
Son of the Devil
a Harlot of Evil
All Lives Matter
Even the whores
of the press, the whores
of politics, and those
building mansions
profiting from war
let those who hear
with ears yet open
pause and listen to
the tender heart of
wisdom
while those darkened.
Shut off souls, will know
the Fires of Purification
So written
in the annals of
bloody history
THE DALLAS COWBOYS
Can you not hear the rumblings of that distant herd coming,
The loud thundering of destiny’s champions crossing, the NFL
Field of dreams, beware the rampaging lightening team known
As the Dallas Cowboys, for they are the hail storms victorous
Breed, the eye of the hurricane riders, searching for their
Well-deserved trophy of fortunes honor!
Remove your cowboy’s hats of respect unto them, ladies
Curtsy with reverences motion, for these athletes are
Endurance’s best, and they shall overcome against
Any opposing finest challengers, these rangers of the
Old western traditions, that carry this country’s time
Honored name of the cowboy to the ultimate extreme,
Of skill and strength’s dexterity!
Dallas all plain drifters of purity’s valor, head to head
No bull horns about it, these are the champions of the
Gladiatorial games in the world of sportsmanship!
Yielding unto no oppositions combatants, these warriors
Hold their ground with distinctions sheer magnificence!
Let those world famous cheerleaders scream with every
Field goal achieved, for these beauties know that no
Other team in footballs annals will score, to the level
Of these good old boys, named by fame's hall of records,
The famous Dallas Cowboys, heehaw and God bless hum!
Now listen you city slicking team of sports hall of fameing
Seekers, you’d better go back to your home fields of
Advantages, for hear in this lone star state, we take no
Prisoners, and show no mercy to out lander's!
Here in the ALAMO state of freedoms calling,
We remember our heritage standing tall and
Proud against all odds, blazoned in bullets
Historical legends, our grand team barres
The name of fore-barriers proudly, those
Pioneer’s men known, as the all American
Cowboys!
These six-shooters whom rode the die hard tails,
Across a new world creating a country of freedom,
Where only the tumble-weeds rolled, and desert dust,
Coached a man’s thirst almost to madness!
Now in traditions sport of men, a new team of desperado’s,
Threatens this lone star state, but have no fear my fellow
Texans for our Dallas Cowboys will send them packing,
With a good old boy’s field goals smacking, so I’ll cheer
Them on, waving my hat in the evening air, yelling heehaw,
Go get hum boys!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
FOR LINDA THE DESTROYER
ROCK ON SISTER POET
The wait seemed eternal to feel inspiration.
Minutes were mountains as each one ticked by,
my hand poised grasping a pen, and then
seated without hitting one stroke on a key.
A closed mind submits nothing, zero and zilch
in a life that's been deeply anchored
in the annals of an abyss shrouded by opacity.
Somewhere between midnight's noirs
and the misty grey flow of morning fog,
I'd fallen into a cavern, deprived of light.
I'd built a bulwark fortress that fenced me in
and the key to my cell... held in my own hand.
I brandished a pen that became a sharpened sword
that hacked and sliced at my every written word.
My dreams were gone, along with life's sensation.
No wonder I could not find a cause for inspiration.
A poet who doesn't write is of no use, none at all.
I stood at the edge of a cliff ~ should I jump or fall?
Sounds of laughter caught the attention of my ears
and through eyes blurred by tears,
I saw children running along the water's edge.
Hesitant, I decided to watch them from upon the ledge.
I sat atop the cliff with legs overhanging that day,
wishing I was a child of ten again to join in their play.
"Well, poet," spoke my muse. "Are you a withered bloom?"
A scolding for thinking of naught but notions of doom
A flurry of fussing she threw at me, hassling like a Harpy.
Exactly what I needed for living in doldrums of gloom.
"Now, see what you've done," she was decidedly terse!
"Your burden is that you always begin in free verse
but always end up writing lines ending in rhyme.
You continually do that. Time after time."
My laughter was louder than the children at play
who stopped traipsing in the surf to look up my way.
A wave of my hand and down to the beach I ran.
Inspiration filling me like waves crashing upon the sand.
In this day of corporate illusion
One only the historic can counter,
Soon one day the culture of delusion
Will reign as all those whom encounter,
When all passed away in resolution
The problem written into the annals,
While those that are left fed on pollution
The results of educated finals.
One's cultural genocide of blindness
Simplicity with common sense destroyed,
Yet the poet’s truth through untangled kindness
Will live on in the heart of those deployed.
Never in the history of mankind
An era delivered been so refined.
© Harry J Horsman 2012
-1-
This narrow vein
pulses in red earth
blood of thousands
meanders
through valleys barren
a surface wounded
cries dry tears
down to Iskandariyya (1)
White sails cover
undercurrent
once sun burned
monoliths choke
tide provides
no air for their
drowned lungs
-2-
Where grows papyrus
How can I write
with these reeds
my ancestors' annals
Where is that land
that has my name
displaced
cast out
yesterdays and tomorrows
erased.
-3-
Merciless strangers
hewn mouths in set faces
staccato tongue
dismissive diaspora
White cotton spores blown
in khamaseen (2)
feel their protective shelter
burn
suffocate
(1) Al-Iskandariyya: Alexandria
(2) khamsin: Hot desert wind, blowing from south to north.
***
July 17, 2017
Copyright © Darren White
Gazing into the heavy eyelids of the sun
In the sacred silence of the dusk
Through a route obscure and lonely
I walked on until reached before a grave yard
My thoughts curled round the forgotten tombs
Where the dead remain anonymous as dust,
And sleep dreamless through years,
Where wind whistles through heap of bones.
Here, Death sits on his imperial throne,
Mocking at the relics of human glory
Zealous with the task of clearing out the old,
To make way for the incoming ones
Marked by moss grown grave stones
Here each life is a volume closed down,
To be cast aside and eventually forgotten,
Or locked forever in the annals of time!
‘Round that colossal decay’, I stood sad
Thinking of Shelley’s Ozymandias!
__________________
~Placed Sixth~
June.28. 2022
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile.5.Poetry Contest
Sponsor:Mark Toney
Putin said he wouldn't invade, but then he's known for his lies
So when he sent in his murdering scum, it came as no surprise
It will go down in the annals of history, as Putin's great blunder
And if anything it's united Ukraine, and not tore it asunder.
American President Joe Biden has now found a way
To make that despicable war criminal, Vlad Putin pay
To Ukraine he's sending lethal predator, and reaper drones
That will help to build stocks of dog food, of Russian bones.
Russian soldiers are not human from what we have seen
You've read and seen the evidence, so you know what I mean
They're gutless and have yellow streaks all down their backs
And scurry down to the sewers when Ukraine counter attacks.
Russians fire from a distance and let their lethal missiles fly
At hospitals, nurseries and any innocent civilians passing by
They only kill unarmed men, women and children, who pose no threat
But Russia, the civilised world is watching and we will not forget.
Red flags are what the Russians are using, to justify a crime
But the world is not stupid and it can see through the grime
A Russian town on the border was shelled so they could blame Ukraine
Then used it as an excuse to inflict, more misery and pain.
Every Despot who commits war crimes will always pay the price
Putin the war dog will be put down, Ukraine will not think twice
He'll have to surround himself with thugs and be lucky every day
But an avenger will only have to strike lucky once, to make Putin pay.
No tears were shed when he lost his flagship, in the black sea
It is one lethal weapon less to use, against that war torn country
The west thought sanctions alone would bring this war to an end
But it hasn't really worked, so more arms the west must send.
The battle for the Eastern Donbas region is well underway
And for those brave Ukrainian defenders, we must all pray
They're fighting to defend their freedom and sovereignty
But only military aid from the West will ensure their victory.
The horrific scenes we've seen on the news of towns reduced to rubble
Are because Putin knows he's not winning and that he's in trouble
At his forthcoming military parade, he's hoping to announce a victory
But if he was an honest man he'd tell his country, that he's failed miserably.
Written on 20th April 2022
I don't understand why people kill
That too without feeling bad about it
Why are wars needed?
How does it matter if area of a country is small?
Why expand?
What purpose does it serve?
Common man merely wants to earn and eat
He seeks his happiness.
When an army person shoots many dead
Doesn't he feel for their families
Only breadwinner dead, child orphaned, a widow.
Does government bother?
What will a country gain by attaching another?
No purpose is served!
All money amassed only gives more tension
In the end we all are going to die leaving behind every penny earned.
Why not live happily instead of trying to prove we are the best
For every bad we do, punishment is ordained
We get back what we give
Fear the law of nature, don't sin
How can a tear not move anyone?
How can anyone be bad?
It is beyond my understanding.
If I hurt someone with my words, I feel bad
I have never beat my son. I can't
But many murder, torture mercilessly
Doesn't their conscience prick?
Do they live with peace of mind after that?
Why?Why should anybody do anything bad when it can be easily avoided
What are they trying to prove?
A momentary act, lifelong regret, results of karma's make our life only miserable
Is it worth it?
To be criticized life long
To go down the annals of history as a murderer.
Or to be remembered for your goodness
Choice is ours.
Bit of self-control helps prevent a sin.
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Note : This poem poured out from within after I read Jallianwala Bagh poem written by Tom Cunningham. That poem brought tears in my eyes and then I wrote this.
Suspense is a thing worth not knowing
Dying for the knowledge of the mystery
From novice to brainiac ever flowing,
Slipping into the dark annals of history.
Shudders at the noise of victims’ crying
Suspense is a thing worth not knowing,
Keeping chilblains on the skin denying
Revealing information ne’er extolling.
Red herrings by the hundreds growing
In long heralded stories not so mastered
Suspense is a thing worth not knowing,
Fabled tales of untamed roguish bastards.
Best sellers from all leather anthologies
With black ravens and murderous crowing,
Translated to filmdom with no apologies
Suspense is a thing worth not knowing.
Written June 1, 2022
Those walls of my captured annals falling
By steel leviathans devouring my solitude
Capped blasts dropping the once proud structure
No longer is a mans home his palace
Histories cowboys are the future’s vagabonds
Their ranges of ranches a dying lot
Borders now shrinking as the rooms collapse
Giving into the fear of the outside world
No one is really who they appear to be
Stowing and stealing all for a free ride
The trust in humanity a long extinct idealism
Falling in flames from the final battles bullet
Yesterday’s judgment is the hope of tomorrow
If the sun may ascend to the songbirds cry
No promises of integrity to hold onto justice
While the carrions crawl the balances edge
Holding within that which disaster has taught
Building upon the hangman’s piety
To breathe for a moment the sweet water of utopia
With every falling grain of the hourglass
…Time slows in the winds of obscurity
It was sometime during the 1940s George Orwell
wrote the acclaimed novel, Nineteen Eighty-Four,
a book exposing a societal condition of pure hell.
The policy of draconian control has never meant more
than it does now as political doublespeak takes place.
Greedy powermongers are guilty of leading lands to war
and hypocrisy runs rampant in government. It's a disgrace
to the office of Presidency that idiocy has gotten this far.
The nonsense of Tomfoolery is the tragic kind of behavior
by manipulative charlatans, narcissists who are in position
to claim they are uniting the world as peacemakers, saviors
when they should be imprisoned in the annals of Perdition.
Many people fear AI will soon have power to take control
but Trump, Putin and others make AI seem rather docile.
Bullies with followers who think they are gods, these A-holes
create mayhem and chaos, whose assholery is colossal!
Orwell also wrote Animal Farm, about totalitarianism trouble,
a stark warning during a time of global conflict and clashes.
Such turbulence exists inside Trump's disinformation bubble.
He must be stopped before the result is a world left in ashes.
"A horse... My kingdom for a horse," shouted Richard the Third.
He was a Lionhearted king, but Trump and Putin have no soul.
History will regard their transgressions as being cruelly absurd
for nothing good they've done will be worthy to praise or extol.
STORIES TO LIVE BY
Oh! tell me tales that lift the spirit, energise the soul
Inspire a faith that gives the strength to drive toward a goal
Let not the story of the nation be a book of shame
That current generations may seek solace couched in blame
Though there may be dark chapters of our history beset
With episodes of evil we now view with deep regret
True annals yet tell stories of bold quests by those of daring
Who ventured forth with courage, thought of self-preserve foreswearing
To conquer craggy peak, cross frozen continent and sea
And some of grace faced tyranny, risked life to set us free
Let victimhood and pointed accusation not prevail
Nor guilt and self abasement write a gloomy new folktale
As every day a page is turned to quicken and advance
Our lives, should we not be the author of our own romance
Then one day hence we may recount in parable or fable
A legend that all may embrace to hearten and enable
Did you tire of one President's lecturing and preaching?
Do you cringe at another's tweets, his lechery and "leechering?"
Then as George W Bush Jr's term fades from the annals of recency
Let us recall the stirring words of this man of abiding decency
"Junior" as the USA's President was a bit of an anomaly
As he observed: "I know how hard it is to put food on your family." (Jan, 2000)
It was rather hard to take his Presidency all too seriously
After this: "I know the human being and fish can coexist." (Sept., 2000)
For education, he and Laura shared a passion, a yearning
To wit: "Rarely is the question asked: Is our children learning?" (Jan, 2000)
Of course, Bush could also be sharp as a tack, downright uncanny
Like the time he bragged, "They misunderestimated me!" (Nov, 2000)
And after eight years in office, "W" had become quite the orator
As seen in this reflection: "I think I was unprepared for war, --er." (Dec, 2008)
So there you have it, a smattering of evidence
~ That speaking the King's English is not required of a President