Best Abash Poems
Rodents can be loquacious
That includes your average gerbil
They love to prattle, chat and blather
They really are quite verbal
Hamsters are talkative too
Just as garrulous as can be
With running mouth and wheel to match
They are a sight to see
But I am loath to squander words
Sparing usage is my way
I gather them like so many acorns
Against a rainy day
Yes, word collecting is the passion
Of this precocious squirrel
I garner adjectives, verbs and nouns
Be they singular or plural
The park is fecund land
There a plethora may be found
Vociferous, vehement and vex
I lately scooped up off the ground
The verb tree is prolific
Its discovery quite a boon
The other day it bestowed upon me
Flaunt, foster and festoon
All along the sidewalks
Concrete nouns lie strewn about
How blithely I did snatch up
A lummox, a laggard and a lout
To command a better view
I nimbly scampered up a pole
From this lofty perch I spotted
Wheedle, coax and cajole
Away in the distance
I spied a tempting pile
Heaped up for the taking were
Enticing, alluring and beguile
What do I with so much verbiage?
You would be fair to ask
Squirreling away so vast a lexicon
Must prove a mammoth task
The answer lies in my arboreal abode
Where these many words I stash
In alphabetical order they are arrayed
From zealous to abash
In a capricious mood one day
I grouped them by part of speech
Such a cacophony arose from clustering
Banter, badger and beseech
No matter how I sort them
The wasting of words I spurn
Reserved for rarest use I keep
Reticent, laconic and taciturn!
_________________________________
by Brian McClain - Feb 17, 2016
Originally posted Feb 17, 2016
Accidentally deleted Feb 22, 2016
Reposted Feb 22, 2016
Cake is the thing which betters ~
The leanness of my soul ~
And frosts ornate the naked plate ~
And pleases one ~ and all ~
And sweetest ~ is the bite ~ that's warm
A sinful sugared slice ~
Though sorely adding to my form
I shan't abash the price ~
I've tasted as a chilly dish ~
Eaten at dawn and noon ~
Yet ~ never ~ in regret or wish,
I've left a crumb ~ too soon.
1/11/21
(a take on Emily Dickinson's poem 'Hope is the thing with feathers')
“Token”
We went looking for Love
in all the wrong places imperfect
there We received perfect bodies that warmed us
in darkened rooms where We chose to lie like gods,
freedom nourished us like holy sacraments
sustained us daily like bread and wine
We ate up life too fast, hungrily We took flight
We were greedy unrefined for the colour Red,
such is Life,
our alters were over-refined
last suppers We missed regularly shuffling unsaid goodbyes
hurriedly trading youth with time,
We read poetic minds that seduced us
to kneel in front of Books like men We idolised
of course We wanted to be seduced like Eurydice
yet Hades and all the Erinyes called us in like Furies
We lost our way in the wars of life,
inside a burning house the Heart remained closed tight inside
where children come and go, where once all remembered
is forgotten in time, their comings and goings We no longer know,
sins of the fathers and mothers sigh, there for the grace of God went I, still,
inside something remains holding its royal flame ultra violet high
kissing passionately and impatiently what little is left of us,
our lives never seem to rhyme but in cracked dark sentences
something external within the tarnished mortal boundaries still shines,
We debate internally all the time counting our hours and days and nights,
our sensibilities are flickering ebulliently dreaming to die
We roll our dice shooting roulette like crazy blue Russians to cast the cage aside;
Hope is a strange ride
Its destiny unpaid, an invisible token
We cannot afford to hide
Candide Diderot. ‘26
"Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies."
Stephen King
“Hope is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul -
And sings the tune without the words -
And never stops - at all -
And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -
And sore must be the storm -
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm -
I’ve heard it in the chillest land -
And on the strangest Sea -
Yet - never - in Extremity,
It asked a crumb - of me.”
Emily Dickinson
Scope is the drink sans pleasure
That always burns a hole
And stings your gums -and have you heard
It's worse than vile gall
And Listerine is more absurd
And sure your tongue to harm
Yet mouthwash wasn't meant to hurt
Like an acidic storm
Therefore imbibe with caution and
You'll find that you agree
Another beverage there ne'er will be
So full of caustic glee
For Brian Strand's "Adaption" contest
Parody of Poem #254 - "Hope" by Emily Dickinson
Poem #254 by Emily D ickinson
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
Seasons Coalesce
Cycles reset
Patterns, Habits,
Evolve and regress
Exhausted
Fast for the Sabbath
Reasons to rest
Memories to regret
Sacked , accost.
Divest. Pay the clocks price
An eternal toll
Raped of life, sucked out soul.
Trapped verbal lessons, hooked with ****.
Confusing intention
I abash her with derision
Trenchant Poems
And my myopic vision.
Sick selfish sabotage
Malevolent inventions
Disesteem who I’ve become
Hate this so called home
Adeem this crooked loan.
end
10-18
written just a couple weeks before the lease at prior abode would expire, and no affordable habitat....just by happenstance and a thankful invisible hand of destiny.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
To avoid the pitfall of prospective homelessness
which near future prospect
induces existential angst i confess.
Today, i wanna die and bid god riddance grandly
going gamesomely gra grave,
de deum, and cymbal crash
to Bing mulct emotionally, physically and spiritually -
all the grinding hardships would be gone in a flash
how tempting to seek a solution sans hemlock
or other deadly potion,
whereby toothless mouth need not gnash
boot simply swallow and drink from the goblet of
mortal freedoms renting psych ass under
with purposelessness mine hash
tag, which bout with suicide
while n the edge of thirteen -
Anorexia nervosa defeated -
then as now experience
10,000 banshee maniacs whip lash
lacerating, flagellating,
and repeatedly rousing thoughts
shin to circle back to why
death be not proud when life on par with a mash
up of ennui, futile gobbledygook housing incubus
analogous luft Waffe bombardiers quash
the joie de vivre per je ne sais quois spritely spring
in step happy jollity,
and levity attempt to make light
of psychological me's mental illness rash
whence thru the lvii roam min years
as chief garbage taster of trash
hurled my way gnome matter
gremlins dwelt within the Wabash
distance to inflict din er of dissonance
targeted this mortal for'er abash
as soon as he got expelled from the womb,
his reddened ears did bash
from sonic screaming boom causing astir the nurses
into the maternity ward of me late mum sped like dash
her, and fast as a comet Prancer doth emulate
a con vixen dancer, cuz ova this rude half
re: that came a boot
from genetic chromosomal DNA wash.
Lessen your crimes now and give ear to me
Perhaps I can still make you understand
How a force for bad you've chosen to be
To many in the firm grip of your hand.
You cajole the one, abash the other;
Promise acceptance, threaten rejection.
All in an unfair attempt to smother
The voice of good, and enthrone perversion.
Do I wish you were not in existence?
Would I really snuff the life out of you?
Far from it, I recognize the potence
In you to cheer and uphold what is due.
Decide, then, to turn a new leaf today,
And I may have good about you to say.
LAST FLIGHT
As a young bird I sang a whimsical tune that no one quite understood. Since my first departure, I never stopped flying not even in the most testing moments.
I was pushed from the nest without nurturing or training only neglect as I struggled vigorously flapping my wings then suddenly taking flight to an uncertain independence.
Some thought they heard the sweetest cry but sore were my wings in those turbulent skies. Though, always, asking myself why would anyone abash a tiny insignificant bird?
I flew with wings bruised and tattered by the heartlessness of others, while all I wanted was the chance to convey my story of a merciless journey.
Today my prayers ask only, ‘Will God raise me from up from under these clouds of crushing defeat with fractured bones and scarcity of feathers to take flight or shall I succumb to this final fall?’
I’ve never given up hope longing for an end to the relentless rains and impenetrable dust storms pounding against my shattered wings and spirit.
Many years ago you judged me as a painfully shy creature but my fate as a young bird forced me to fly or die in the grueling reality of lone survival.
Neither time nor error stopped this arduous flight rejected by immense winds, my heart always hiding high above clouds as the day’s blue skies went dark.
With so many fearful thoughts as I shiver perched alone in a lowly tree from my soul one question does pour out: “Is this my last flight?”
Slowly back in flight to a meager nest only to find I’ve lost a beloved kin, I no longer have a place of solace; surely this ill-timed loss has broken me.
If I’m no longer able to take to the sky this deeply worries me leaving behind my only fledgling and although he has his primary feathers I believe he still requires my loving guidance and protection.
Will I live to rejoice in my devotion and faithfulness to God? Or, have I fought this battle and prayed all the days of my life for an inconsequential conclusion!
As my last flight draws near, I implore dearest God to allow me dignity in that departure so that I can bestow a profound hope in others who continue to face the most severe of persecutions in this life.
sudden
sun never come out on my site
butterfly all around me
singing their beautiful song
twinkle twinkle the stars are here
men never come out on my site
because all mirrors belonged to me
they sang in deep voice
come come the beauty is here
now cockroaches crow grows on my clothes
flow flooding saliva never end
no one selfie with me, and
walls slams behind my face
then I have live piece block of sefie
for the inferno of earth,
in the abash of darkness
beauty have killed me
Discourage from doing something by instilling doubt or fear of the consequences
The act of intimidating a weaker person to make them do something.
Intimidation:Gundagardi, badmashi, darana, dhamkana, dadagiri.
The act of making timid or fearful or of deterring by threats.
To make timid or fearful;to inspire of affect with fear;
To deter, as by threats; to dishearten; to abash.
To compel or deter by or as if by threats.
I know I got no voice so sweet
Like birds outside your window tweet
I know I don't have the touch
Or maybe you wont enjoy as much
I know I'd need a lots of guts
I know I'd abash myself, but
If it makes you laugh a while
Darling, I'd sing for you
I know it hurts to lose someone
When the wind reminds of the lost one
I know I'll never be his touch
I'm sure you wont enjoy as much
I know a little it's gonna hurt
I know hard it is to let go, but
If it makes you cry a while
Darling, I'd sing for you
I know you'll say "Its waste of time
Leave me alone, I need no chime"
I know everyone needs a touch
And heal you I'll try, try so much
I know its hard to heal a cut
Lose myself trying I might, but
If it makes you mine a while
Darling, I'd sing for you
Dusty dull autumnal song
with gushes wild as crazy ocean
no knowledge of place you belong
as always found in busy motion.
The clarion at you zenith rung
when maximum things you have misplaced
the song of spring had been said and sung
as it too now, can be seen whole dazed.
When the hushed gleam silently retards
and transparent motion is seized
you then come charioted on your vicious pards
and leave each thing over breezed
New born flowers whom honey dew lulled
and were fostered by its verdant guards
are even exploited with there innocence ruffled
as each petal to the ground retards
You flirt with the dewy dusky cloud
and flatter them to go hand in hand
and then abash proudest of the proud
for mere caprice, on barren land.
You are unseen, yet i can feel
your presence, in mad pursuit like race
of exhausted leaves, you continue to conceal
your transparent presence, but keep your constant pace.
You surge the still being of cloudy chain
as a human of emotions is filled
then conjure them to blusteringly rain
as eyes over emotioned is rilled.
The aged cedar stand week
in your way wild wind insolent
try resistance, but finally creak
and dies, despite its fortuitous being and constant pant.
Carve me too, to be untamed and fearless
as you are and teach me to relish this universe
guide me on my way and constantly bless
so as, i too can be remembered by my verse.
AKASH SANGWAN
(fear not stalwart reader, the sword of Damocles just grazed thy chest when fate found us a place to call home).
to avoid the pitfall of prospective homelessness
which near future prospect
induces existential angst i confess.
Today i.e. about two years ago (end of rope rhyme rote
approximately deux orbitz round the sun),
i wanted ta die and bid god riddance grandly
going gamesomely gra grave,
de deum, and cymbal crash
to Bing mulct emotionally, physically and spiritually -
all the grinding hardships would be gone in a flash
how tempting to seek ot a solution sans hemlock
or other deadly potion,
whereby toothless mouth need not gnash
boot simply swallow and drink from the goblet of
mortal freedoms renting psych ass under
with purposelessness mine hash
tag, which bout with suicide
while n the edge of thirteen -
Anorexia nervosa defeated -
then as now experience
10,000 banshee maniacs whip lash
lacerating, flagellating,
and repeatedly rousing thoughts
shin to circle back to why death be not proud
when life on par with a mash
up of ennui, futile gobbledygook housing incubus
analogous luft waffe bombardiers quash
the joie de vivre per je ne sais quois spritely spring
in step happy jollity,
and levity attempt to make light
of psychological me's mental illness rash
whence thru the (then) lvii roam min years
as chief garbage taster of trash
hurled my way gnome matter
the gremlins dwelt within the Wabash
distance to inflict din er of dissonance
targeted this mortal for'er abash
as soon as he got expelled
from the womb, his reddened ears did bash
from sonic screaming boom causing astir the nurses
into the maternity ward
of me late mum sped like dash
her, and fast as a comet Prancer doth emulate
a con vixen dancer, cuz ova this rude half
re: that came a boot
from genetic chromosomal dna wash.
today, i wanna die and bid god riddance grandly
going gamesomely gra grave, de deum, and cymbal crash
to bing mulct emotionally, physically and spiritually -
all the grinding hardships would be gone in aa flash
how tempting to seek ot a solution sans hemlock
or other deadly potion,
whereby toothless mouth need not gnash
boot simply swallow and drink from the goblet of
mortal freedoms renting psych ass under
with purposelessness mine hash
tag, which bout with suicide while n the edge of thirteen -
anorexia nervosa defeated -
then as now experience whip lash
lacerating, flagellating, and repeatedly rousing thoughts
to circle back to why death be not proud when life on par with a mash
up of ennui, futile gobbledygook housing incubus
analogous luft waffe bombardiers quash
the joie de vivre per je ne sais quois spritely spring
in step happy jollity, and levity attempt to make light
of psychological me's mental illness rash
whence thru the lvii roam min years as chief garbage taster of trash
hurled my way gnome matter the gremlins dwelt within the Wabash
distance to inflict din er of dissonance targeted this mortal for'er abash
as soon as he got expelled from the womb, his reddened ears did bash
from sonic screaming boom causing astir the nurses
into the maternity ward of me late mum sped like dash
her, and fast as a comet prancer doth emulate
a con vixen dancer, cuz ova this rude half
re:that came a boot from genetic chromosomal dna wash.
Your blandishments
twist___twist___twist
contorting my form
abash my mind
wisp___wisp___wisp