Arrhythmic Poems | Examples

The Nightstand

Miles past the nightstand
over the plastic water bottle.
the Ambien pill dispenser
and the soul-bruised eye shades.

An arrhythmic clock
knits needles of silence together.

Turning on the lampshade,
its circle of yellow light
attaches itself to my night-blanked face.
a damp mattress
molding heavy thoughts
that struggle to climb
dream-tossed blankets.

On its four arthritic legs,
the nightstand's
tour of duty continues
patrolling
one old man's conflict
with doubt and faith.

Waxing Arrhythmic

The way they come to me
the way that they’re heard
And written in haste
whether rich or absurd
Each vowel from the anthem
of consonant rhymes
Pronouncing arrhythmic   
with hopes to define
Religiously deigning
the blood from my pen
New veins on the parchment
—alive from within

(Dreamsleep: August, 2023)

Leaves Shimmer Shake

leaves sway quiver shake
to the invisible wind
an arrhythmic ballet

Night Watch

Miles past the nightstand
over the plastic water bottle.
the Ambien pill dispenser
and the soul-bruised eye shades,
an arrhythmic clock 
ticks like a bombed-out tank.

Of course there is the lampshade
(that lighthouse for the luminescent krill
of submerged consciousness)
that seems attached to my skin
whenever body parts want to cut ties
with a mattresses concave reality.

Secreted like a drugged shark
in the shallow recesses of a snaring drawer
a snubby barrel with six mad prayers
snugs up against a snoring bible.

The raven iridescence
of night-cats prowl a life leaking bed;
occasionally they look up
their eyes shining
as they search for an alien presence.

On its four arthritic legs the nightstand
watches;
its tour of duty still patrolling a far off
conflict of doubt and faith.

Time to turn over the hull of being,
upright any surface 
with a legibly printed label,
then haul that address back in
from the far side of an arm’s reach.

Time to shuck whatever shell
still rolls unopened in the surf 
of the tossed and blanketed.

My Plea

My Plea

This my plea O world
That drags the dream of peace
Through the mud of wickedness

Rise
From the egotistic slime to wash away
Self-centered muck

Loosen 
Your profane feet of clay
From self-absorbed quick sand

Break through
The entitled self-interest of the arrhythmic heart
To the steady beat of the heart of all hearts

Release
Sludge filled veins of self-importance
To freely flow with innocence’s compassion

Lift up
The hands smothered by erupting ashes
Of the shameless vicious with sympathy

Immerse 
Self-seeking vanity of the starving soul
Into the Samaritan’s fountain 

Transform 
The narcissistic selfie flower
With unfettered grace

This my plea for peace, O world
Sing the dream of dreams vision
Pray the prayer of prayers hope 
Speak the speech of harmony
Live the life of peace.

3-29-22
Contest: Your Peace Message to the World
Sponsor: Anoucheka Gangabissoon

Cold Pulsation

Her anger blows 
frigid, like Arctic wind
Tears of hostile disposition flows 
bosom lethal — 
Pulmonary liquid nitrogen

Acrimonious breath
expel serrated exclamations
Jagged exhalation
feels like six below death
Such an icy sensation

Formaldehyde intimation,
cadaver cold pulsation

Got a cryogenic nature
that resides
in an unemotional South Pole 

Frostbite vocals
has igloo vibrations
Freezer burn temperamental flatline
show glacial striations

Sub-zero body language 
Kilimanjaro translate
hypothermia lacerations

Those neon palpitations
has taken nether hold
Arrhythmic separation
breaks at the 
jilted Fahrenheit of six below

Pulsating pain, so cadaver cold


09-10-21

Just the Usual Red Eyed Nativity

There are stretch marks for every delivered line.
Skin keeps strumming until it runs out of sweat,
incipient and membranous they arrive
through a mutual tension. On their own
words  in the woods unseen,
but when pushed through a primal viscera,
they slip through wet and new.
 
You try to make them civilized and grown.
you know that eyes are upon you.
Birthing’s a messy affair
something you do behind swollen eyes,
a stress disorder that defies latex
or the collective humming of incubators.
 
Then you look down and everyone’s looking
it’s not a poem,  it is a configuration
of arrhythmic pulses,
meanwhile you swaddle an indigenous form
native to a ‘no man’s land.’
You hope someone will read it to the end,
but it’s not the end, it’s another beginning.

Heart Song Seperation

Heart Song Separation

“We got separated from us last week and I haven’t found you since.”   Poet’s Quote

Too long my heart we beat in arrhythmic clashes
 Languishing in sudden cardiac heart arrest
Out of sync creating dark vascular ashes
 No phoenix rises from heart disease - never rests.

Too long my song we argue over melodies
 Distracted by atonal hallucinations
Dismissing cradle songs of haunting rhapsodies
 Elusive harmonies hide in cache creations.

Too long my words we engage in rhythmic stand offs
 Glaring at my silent muse - tense verbal showdowns
Impasse of wills – procrastination’s folly doff
 Disguised in masks adjectives appear as pronouns.

My aimless soul seeks union with lost heart song words
 Remembering your quiet smiles of peace fullness
Your velvet vesper serene these mourning tears blur
 As twilight yearns in midnight’s hypnotic stillness.

Too long my heart we beat in arrhythmic clashes
 Too long my song we argue over melodies
Too long my words we engage in rhythmic stand offs
 My aimless soul seeks union with lost heart song words.

12-11-20
Contest: My Created Form
Sponsor: Constance LaFrance

Afflatus

I stand there, poised, a statue,
holding my paintbrush to my temple;
waiting for the lightbulb of sentiment to wash over me.

Then, like a distant star shooting across the cosmos,
or an injection of adrenaline into an arrhythmic heart;
my thoughts become as clear as a summers day. 

The canvas mirrors my minds picture, 
a time stamp of today; 
igniting an old flame whose embers Iong presumed dead. 

It is like time has ceased, 
I have reached the eye of the storm; 
my thoughts no longer an affliction of my mind. 

I coat with a deep turquoise, the colour of the Asian coastline. 
I build with an emerald green that coats the summer leaves. 
I flavour with the purest white, like that of untouched snow.

The sun leaps above the horizon,
my nights work draws to a close;
the fire of my heart dimming with the dawn.

03/02/2020

Pick a Title - Tristich Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
#Afflatus

Non-Verbal Exchange

Her exhalation of loin lucidity
mentally fertilizes
my inhalation with ova clarity

Silent eyes move with
midnight aura imperative speed
Time dilation purity 
seem to halo heat signature read

Twin soul synchronicity
mirrors a muffled, 
dual embrace reciprocity:
A horizontal transmission need

Sigh    ...    blink

Thought oscillations 
of laser intensity
enter the deepest diaphragm part 
of fetal prone me

Pheromone palpitations
leaves a muted trail of inaudible moans
Cosmic kiss-synapse fluidity 
is the lip-binding universal speech

Blink    ...    sigh

Love urgency travels 
on an arrhythmic aorta beam
Unspoken passion
twas utterly bosom conceived

You'Ve Gotta Have Heart

.my damaged heart                 this imperfect heart
Beats, beats, beats, beats          my weak heart still beats
this beating arrhythmic heart          this heart heart heart heart   
defective heart beat heart          defective heart heart heart  
damaged heart heart heart heart heart heart heart heart heart  
diseased heart heart heart heart heart heart heart heart heart heart 
heart heart heart heart heart heart heart heart heart heart heart heart heart 
heart with a hole and a tumor effects one's active life immensely with death knocking at one's door, fatigue, irregular heartbeat, stress of death  impending but life goes on and one adjusts living a full a life as possible under the circumstances God is good, uplifting, encouraging me in each day  and every moment
life goes on and each day is a blessing to enjoy with family
moments of spiritual highs with God's presence so close
reaching out and touching the hem of His garment
feeling life giving healing taking place
nothing can compare to this
God is so good
He is so 
Good to 
Me

Hold the Phone

Incoming ... 
distress missive call
Hangups on the other side
of the continental divide cellular room 
Mushroom sobs of insecurity  
click end of volatile transmission 
Redialitis sparks an emotional kaboom

Hold the phone ...
busy signal
blocks the aural unnecessary 
audio carrying on

Listen to the sick, sad drone
of earworm  infection
Party line frienemy chatter — 
rumor skullduggery 
lip shake the skeleton bones

Wireless ... 
discredit babble cry is on the blame install
Wronged directory
sent bye-bye a phantom victimized 911 call

Hangups on the teary-eye side
of the bleary divide
Insecure tremors rattle the room 
Situation report bleak ... 
relationship on a carrier gloom
Moby D pigeon chirps want the last speak 
Mushroom wails
spark splash a cellular kaboom

Hold the phone ...
fade-to-black signal
buries the raised decibel unnecessary 
verbal carrying on

Silence transmits an air golden tone;
as needless, exhale worriations
of arrhythmic heart palpitations
get disconnected lung distance long

And the bad karma vibrations
beep off-the-tower power grid gone

Selective Blindness

Blinded to all of the desirable flaws
within pillow reach
Shallow beauty of uneven temperament
rises and falls
with the tide of X-ray attraction

Ultraviolet thoughts in visible range,
scan the scarred marks 
on an arrhythmic, telltale heart
Tender touch select a barely audible
passionate promise of silhouette pleasure
Sarah Vaughan on the playlist,
speaks softly low 
after every Phyllis Hyman kiss

Silky braille scats,
pure Al Jarreau ...
fingering the body fretboard
Leaves an infra-red lip signature

Blind to the faults
of a carefree gypsy, wandering attitude
Wait patiently
to impart a better bosom perspective

Open the clay vaults
while the lava flow of the moment moves
Let love clarity
be the retinal force which aorta give

See those gems of free expression
paint the intimate mood 
Glittering hues of breathtaking ecstasy
is blind to the fact — 
seeking love is a natural obsession

Not-So-Perky

Obliged, to senses’ pleasure and to soul’s discontent,
I acknowledged all the appreciations,

I often look at the world around me.
They all appear same – puppets dancing on arrhythmic tunes.
Clones moulded by the system, machines lethargically pretending to sweat for goals.
Permanently busy nodding their way through, unsure of the purpose.
An intense cold war for a better materialistic living.
Fate of tames in the hands of hierarchy, with their laughter being echoed back to them.

And then far away in mountains, amidst a fog of smoke, i inspect myself,
indifferent and very much a part of this inanimate group,
verily afraid of being accustomed to uptown lifestyle.
Agitatedly, as this kindled fire turns into ashes,
I have tried to learn, hoping the dots will connect someday.
Little does my heart know and little does it seem to care!

Panic Attack

Pulse is racing
And chest tight
Nerves are shredded
Ice in lungs
Can’t see through tears

Arrhythmic pounding
Time is near
True or not
Ain’t seeming clear
Can’t you help me, in any way?
Keep this stuff from coming back!?!

• Short Arrhythmic Poems
• Famous Arrhythmic Poems
• Best Arrhythmic Poems
• Read Arrhythmic Poems
• Long Arrhythmic Poems
• Arrhythmic Quotes