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Poems On / About HERO  10/20/2014 9:07:38 PM
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  301.     

The Seed-At-Zero

The seed-at-zero shall not storm
That town of ghosts, the trodden womb,
With her rampart to his tapping,
No god-in-hero tumble down
Like a tower on the town
Dumbly and divinely stumbling
Over the manwaging line.

The seed-at-zero shall not storm
That town of ghosts, the manwaged tomb
With her rampart to his tapping,
No god-in-hero tumble down
Like a tower on the town
Dumbly and divinely leaping
Over the warbearing line.

Through the rampart of the sky
Shall the star-flanked seed be riddled,
Manna for the rumbling ground,
Quickening for the riddled sea;
Settled on a virgin stronghold
He shall grapple with the guard
And the keeper of the key.

May a humble village labour
And a continent deny?
A hemisphere may scold him
And a green inch be his bearer;
Let the hero seed find harbour,
Seaports by a drunken shore
Have their thirsty sailors hide him.

May be a humble planet labour
And a continent deny?
A village green may scold him
And a high sphere be his bearer;
Let the hero seed find harbour,
Seaports by a thirsty shore
Have their drunken sailors hide him.

Man-in-seed, in seed-at-zero,
From the foreign fields of space,
Shall not thunder on the town
With a star-flanked garrison,
Nor the cannons of his kingdom
Shall the hero-in-tomorrow
Range on the sky-scraping place.

Man-in-seed, in seed-at-zero,
From the star-flanked fields of space,
Thunders on the foreign town
With a sand-bagged garrison,
Nor the cannons of his kingdom
Shall the hero-in-to-morrow
Range from the grave-groping place.
 
Dylan Thomas

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Read more: hero poems, star poems, green poems, sky poems, god poems, sea poems
   
 

   
   
 

  302.     

Knight In Shining Armour

The valiant hero stood his ground,
Defiant in the sun,
His shining armour shone around
On almost everyone!
The crowd assembled, like they do,
As if to cheer him on,
The villain of the piece to boo,
As if he'd soon be gone...

The villain slapped his gauntlet there,
Right on the hero's cheek!
The hero trembled with a glare
That some thought quite unique...
'How darest thou, thou craven knave!
Now suffer for that slight! '
Back to their horses they marched brave,
The knave against the knight!

The horses tensed their muscles hard
To bear the extra weight,
The two men posed and then 'En guard! '
Their faces full of hate...
A preacher begged them to repent,
Make peace, but would they hell...
'Oh, dear...' said he, then off he went,
Looked back and bade farewell...

The fight began, as most fights do,
Courageous to a fault,
They beat each other black and blue
And then they called a halt...
Time-out for nose bleeds to calm down
And nervous knees to rest...
Before they sought the victor's crown
And comely maiden's chest...

The villain twirled his moustache back,
That drove the hero wild!
He gave the villain's rump a whack
And that sure got him riled!
'How darest thou! ' was his retort
And soon revenge was his!
The hero's rump got what it ought,
The villain couldn't miss!

The crowd was in hysterics now,
Guffaws were everywhere...
The hero wiped his sweaty brow
And thought, 'The cads don't care! '
With that, he turned and rode away,
To head for yonder hill...
His rump was sore, his heart was gay,
His armour shining still...


Denis Martindale, copyright, October 2012.
 
Denis Martindale

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  303.     

My Heroes

Let me start by saying I love sports and I’m not too proud to claim
Despite the exorbitant salaries and the criminals I still love to watch the game.

We tend to think of our athletes as heroes, they are admired and embraced
But since we hardly know them...isn’t our hero worship a bit misplaced?

The other day a pitcher for my team- that would be the Rays from Tampa Bay
Was sick but went to the mound and pitched 6 innings anyway.

He was lauded as a hero in the paper just for going in
And giving our team the opportunity to come out with a win.

I think it was admirable and certainly his reputation I don’t want to smear
But wouldn’t it be easier to go to work sick if you made 9.8 million dollars every year?

9 million dollars to pitch once every 5 days...that’s a lot of fortune for his fame
9 million dollars to throw 100 pitches in perhaps 33 or 34 games.

And he’s not even one of the highest paid pitchers, but no doubt he has the riches
For he makes two-hundred and fifty-thousand dollars every time he pitches.

What makes a hero is not a strong arm, a good back swing or a great bat...
It seems to me a hero is quite a bit more than that.

What about the mom or dad who never makes the front page
As they try to provide for their families while making a minimum wage?

What about the everyday people of whom we often don’t speak
Working 8 to 10 hours every day,40 or more hours every week?

What about the teachers, the doctors, the nurses, there are so many...take your pick
The first responders, the soldiers, the truck drivers who go to work when they’re sick.

Who after working two-thirds of their day would love to be of the belief
That they could call their manager, say their tired, and get some needed relief.

Who would love after coming home early...to have the added perk
Of resting for another 4 days before going back to work.

I do not begrudge this pitcher, certainly he has a talent that’s quite rare
But when it comes to picking the heroes in my life...I choose to look elsewhere.
 
Jim Yerman

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  304.     

The Hero In White

When my parents slept
I read
Stories and tails
Of places both
Near and very far
About place I could go
And people I might meet
About people I would dream to be
In a castle in the sky
Or a tunnel under ground
I would read about them
In the dark of my house
About people I try to make myself into
Heroes and conquers
Ladies and knight
People who lived in my head
I would paint them a world
Full of beauty and light
A world where they all would
Fight the good fight
With me at the front leading the charge
We would ride off to battle
And not return till we won
We would fight off the monsters that came at night
And save the innocents too small to fight
I was the hero of the great battles that were set
Against all the forms of evil in my head
Id save the day without so much of a threat
That I would lose of forfeit
The game was set
I had all the best charms and looks too
For in my little world perfection was due
I had magic and friends
People who cared
Everyone loved me
The hero, the lead
In my own dreams
My paints grew complexed and hard to manage
Till the world yanked me out
By the collar
With no thought
To the damage
Done to my world
The one in my head
Now my land is dark
And my heroes dead
There is nothing left of the world in my head
My paintings blank
And locked away
By society trying to sow me the way
To being grown up a responsible being
Without thought without meaning
No worlds in the heads of today's youth
No room for that in this worlds view
So all I have now is useless knowledge
About stuff that brings me no joy
Just college
Were you learn more about less
Till there is nothing left
No hear
No soul
No heroes of old
No hope or dreams
Just expectations and rules
No more worlds that are hiding in the back of your mind
Safe guarded like precious jewels
Now five yous latter I try again
To build back my world
The one in my head
But the people all laugh cause they forget
And society shakes its heavy head.
So now I'm back to reading alone
When the house is dark and no one is home
To see me lead my arm into the fight
To see me
The hero
The light
 
Jackie Hughes

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