Best At Wits End Poems
Ta'likra
was a most stubborn slave
He loved to rattle the chain
It was a sound of pure defiance
that echoed across the lush plantation terrain
Son of Antuk
had a pygmy burning bush spirit
He seethed silently
as the lashes dug deep into his back
The masters hoped the other slaves
would see this bloody spectacle and fear it,
thwarting any thoughts of a rebellious attack
He was beloved by the other slaves,
he had a will of burnished steel
He had a big heart, noble and brave,
his presence strengthened the weak and the ill
The European rulers had a troublesome dilemma:
If they killed Ta'likra, they would make him a martyr;
causing him to live still past his death,
stirring up angry African chants of unrest
And if they let him live,
he would continue to challenge their authority
Thus making it harder to rule over
the other slaves with complete fear and impunity
They struck a balance as to what they would do,
they would whip him daily, give him meager rations
Eventually break his spirit down to ashes
But that didn't work against this
four-foot-two mountain of a man
He was Pygmy,
he was a dark bush man
He was pure African,
borne upon the hot desert sand
He didn't fear death,
he didn't fear pain
Thrice bitten by the deadly viper,
he loved to rattle the chain
The masters, unable to break his spirit,
were perplexed and at wits end
When a wizened one with gnarled raised hand,
offered up a most enlightened plan
This old, white medicine man
appealed to Ta'likra in a peach grove
He said, where would the souls of the ancestors go,
if the tree of life isn't allowed to flourish and grow
The tender buds of the future will wither away,
and the great roots of your ancestors will die here today
Let us gather up the ancient leaves, my warrior friend,
and build a fire of peace
Let us pay homage to the holy ancient ones
with gifts of love and largesse
For as the stars will not always remain in the sky to stay,
the chains of slavery will be removed from your people one day
Ta'likra, the Pygmy prince,
peered into the blue eyes of the old man,
and thought deep on his sage sayings
Then he arose in dignified grace
and silently walked away
He never once rattled his chain again,
he kept his untamed rage locked in the cage within
God blesses me each day is a thrill
Overjoyed to learn sharpen skills
Onyx sky that once had a chill
Did change my life through Goodwill
Was at wits end as my pc died
I’m disadvantaged financially tied
Learned that help is a call away
Loving my Goodwill resources today
When Cyris snored it shook the house piers,
Reducing his wife to constant tears,
At wits end she put a peg on his nose
To stop where the emanating air noise grows,
But unfortunately it blew off both of his ears.
WHEN OTHERS THINK
EXAGGERATION, YOU SEE ITS
MY IMAGINATION.
INSTEAD OF SUPPORT, i GOT
SEPERATION, YOU STEPPED UP
INTO MY DESPERATION.
AS MY SOUL WRITHED IN
HURT AND PAIN, YOU BEAMED
SUNSHINE THRU THE RAIN.
WHEN I WAS ISOLATED, SO
UTERLY ALONE, IT WAS
ALWAYS YOU RINGING MY
PHONE.
AND WHEN I FELT MY LIFE
WAS AT WITS END, I
ROUNDED THE BEND~AND
THERE AGAIN, ITS YOU, MY
FRIEND.
Yoo Hoo! Type A or B Personality
Beauteous - the brain- Imagine that
Reflections of your intelligence
Per se - or indeed is it lack of
In my eyes - I see the ID
Hey - beauty in the eyes of the beholder
Hence - I perceive - I believe
Your wit - Ingenuity - I sit
I still ponder - at wits end
You challenge the funny bone! That you intend
Curiosity they say! Killed the cat
You are curious - I am intrigued
Yes Personality Plus
You charm - with IQ
Yes charming - I question it - Yoo Hoo!
“Oh weary hermit, etch these words in stone ~
God is within, we never walk alone”
~ quote by poet
Dear God, give us our joy back;
our life’s reached a cul-de-sac,
with heart caught in desire’s net,
our bankrupt soul’s drowned in debt.
Pathways of sin, a dead end,
for how can darkness defend
soul’s innate bliss, ours to claim,
when our head hangs low in shame?
All seems lost and yet there’s hope,
choosing with love to elope,
breaking free from ego’s chain,
becoming a child again.
In mode embrace and release,
at wits end we’re yet at ease
for lo behold, love and light,
illumines the darkest night.
Seduced by love’s healing meth,
destiny too holds its breath,
carving for us a new path,
each day, a holy sabbath.
Heart’s devout faith opens doors
and as divine grace in-pours,
when we walk, the path appears,
blissful, joyous, free from fears.
07-February-2023
This or That, Vol 16 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
I'm really feeling sad for folks
they're almost at wits end
Don't seem to care if Cops get shot
(that's those you won't defend)
Notice you aren't yelling loud
for christians, (just the rest)
Let someone say an unkind thing
about muslims? You'll protest
Just remember all lives matter
you never pick and choose
For if you single someone out
eventually you'll lose
Won't hurt to do some research
and learn why you're still here
Yes many lives were sacrificed
so you don't live in fear
Pretty soon they'll over-run
you'll just be in the way
Churches? Nothing left of them
you will have to hide to pray
Those coming here they have a goal
pledge allegiance not on list
The clans are growing every day
they protest with raised fist.....
Pete Yuhas
So here I am again
in redundancy I'll say hello
living life behind this screen
dreaming of a world most obscene
I wait, eager for response
Clicking refresh once more
My world inside a spider's web
in this fantasy I'm still no celeb
I can hear the sound of keystrokes
breaking the silence of a lost voice
Speaking only in the form of text
This part of me the world rejects
I'm at wits end words falling loose
and landing upon so bright a screen
breaking away the ever growing darkness
as my existence fades into evanescence
I'll take only this brief moment here
and wish those of you I remember farewell
For as this night descends to black
It is time that my real life is taken back
The church bells tolled
In the steeple,
Loud and shrill,
'Midst the avalanche of people;
The choir on the corner
Sang of angels, babes, and sugar plums
While shoppers, at wits end,
Swore that they should never have come.
Someone said, "Merry Christmas,"
The answer, "Yeah, right";
Brother, you've got to be a maniac
To combat the crowds tonight;
The bells keep ringing,
Will someone turn them off?
I'd rather be lazing by the fire
In my comfy, toasty loft.
Merry Christmas?
I'll scream if I hear that again!
The toy store line is a mile long
And I am froze to the skin;
Carolers, be quiet!
I can't hear myself think:
Let's see: if I work overtime all year,
I can afford the new kitchen sink.
Merry Christmas?
What's "merry" about it?
If I don't get that hefty bonus,
I'll have a debilitating fit!
Here I stand,
Frozen and bruised,
I could use something "merry"
Before I explode a fuse.
I admit, the shining lights
Are appealing to me,
And that dancing snowman
Is really funny;
There is a star
Atop the bank Christmas tree,
It blends with the dark, winter sky,
It's a sight to see!
As I behold the Christmas wonder,
I smile;
I feel warm, secure, and blessed,
With a new vigor, a new style;
I wish I could stay this way
All year long;
When I am perturbed,
I'll sing a holiday song.
"Merry" is what we need
After the trees are gone;
When the frigid winds howl,
We will carry on;
"Merry" is more
Than holiday cheer;
It'll make every day Christmas
Throughout the year.
Lonely, empty, void and feeling blue,
Like I just don't know what to do.
I have a large family, I've got many friends,
Yet it seems just like I am at wits end.
I am seeking and searching for true happiness,
That joy on the inside that makes you feel blessed.
I have tried drugs, I've tried alcohol,
Even tried sex....just don't want to recall.
These things did not work, they could not fill the void.
I continued to feel empty, lonely, sad and annoyed.
I even went on a shopping spree,
There seemed to be nothing to satisfy me.
Then someone asked me if I had tried Jesus,
They told me He died, rose and that freed us.
I said that I never knew that there was such a Man,
Please explain a little more that I might understand.
They told me He loved and cared for me,
And in all of my troubles, there He would be.
He would never leave me or bring me to shame,
All I had to do was believe in His name.
This included trusting Him and obeying what He said,
Following His example and letting Him be the head.
I listened intensely it sounded simple and plain,
To follow this Man and believe in His name.
Then I tried Jesus, now I am able to see;
Gone are the feelings of emptiness and lonely.
I feel happy and bless as I rest in His name.
And those things that I did...I am not ashamed.
I tried to write a song like John Denver would have done
Thought the way to do it was to emulate each one
Went to Colorado for a Rocky Mountain High
Found heaven near Shenandoah, but inspiration still not nigh.
Left my wife on a jet plane, didn't tell her what for
She would have disapproved, said get a job, what a bore.
In Wyoming, I camped under the moon
I tried to compose, but didn't like the tune
[chorus]
Channeling Denver, songwriter to emulate
I had the acoustic guitar, just couldn't be great
Searching for lyrics in that mountain space
Found peace, but no words in that quiet place
South wind blew in that East Texas town
Had a momentary idea, but couldn't write it down
At wits end, followed a country road home
disheartened, halfway, I sat on a stone.
I thought of John Denver's last flight, his plane fell to the sea
A tragic snapshot of that image before eternity
Remembered his song about his old guitar
In the music pantheon, I hope forever a star
[outro]
I gave up on the lyric, felt writer's block
Did I have anything worth saying? Tried to take stock
Then looked into my past, found what I had sought
A melody of my own, unpretentious and taut
But don't misunderstand, don't get me wrong
I'll can't wait to see the Wrangell mountains and play a John Denver song.
I've heard it all my life: Wahoo!
"Sticks and stones may break your bones
but words will never hurt you."
It’s all in the accents and tones.
"A toodlerump! Jonathan Blasterscripp!”
yelled a classmate on the playground.
I’d slid in home on my rear, what a trip!
(At least, I was safe all the way round.)
Then when I won the spelling bee, I heard
loud whispers returning to my chair.
"Jon's a pricklesmart, a witwhit, a nerd.”
(They couldn’t spell those names on a dare.)
The restroom was the worst place to be
with a bunch of junior-high boys.
"Liptonlips done drunk too much tea.”
Or “Turdtumbler’s in there making noise!”
(Sometimes, that one fit the occasion.)
Girls were just as gross - those snotty sisters
in little cliques trying to smear or shun.
“Cankerwarf’s got new fever blisters!”
*****
In governmental circles as of late,
name-calling has become quite the trend...
Dubs like Crazy- and Crooked- clearly state
that jealousy and arrogance are at wits' end.
November 25, 2020
Locating door D-75
Of a large colony on a drive,
At last close, ah D-74!
I must be right at destiny’s door.
But the next turns out B-68!!
What, lost at the very Pearly Gate?
So I felt midway through my poem—
Roots in air, hangs down to earth tree’s stem!
Old wisdom, the time turns when adverse,
I recalled oft-quoted holy verse
From Bhagavad-Gita’s holiest text
Talking of Tree of Life, but what next?
At wits’ end and left with not a clue,
You hope some divine help might rescue.
______________________________________
Tongue-in-cheek sonnet |09.02.2022|
Poet’s note: a sonnet of sort set in anapaest meter.
That beast that prowls and lurks
Always on the doors opposite side
Primeval and fetid scents rising
For it is here evil resides
Locked within these crumbling walls
Or so I have come to believe
In these halls distant and aloof
Ill-omened phantoms hang in warning
Stillness splinters from a shrill impact
A morbid acidic shriek trills from darkness
Perturbing the window panes peace
Shattering the walls content barriers
Terror stifles my throat closed
A repetitive blast goes off in my chest
Over and over against my consciousness
At wits end I fight the urge to run
To find safe haven from reaching talons
With irregular breath whipping me
I hold steadfast to feigned courage
Readying to look it in the eye and battle
Only to find the rampant torturing fiend
Are the pre-dawn winds playful wisps
Wreaking havoc on my half-awake mind
Traces of the masterful
impregnable prepubescent wall
still extant scads of decades since
complex edifice erected to force tall
permanently leaving me unmoored,
marooned, and furloughed ready for pall
bearers to spill soil upon my
then emaciated stick figure overall,
an unlovely bag of bones
stripped of flesh,
sans unseen deadly parasites,
who valiantly tried to mothball,
and nearly succeeded, kneaded,
and deeded landfall,
when aghast parents
at wits end betiding,
halting, and ramming ace kickball
player with serious
game of life and death,
the latter cleated toehold
unanimous decision to install
topnotch scorer anticipating
seeing his name plaque mounted
within glass encasement within guildhall,
faintly hearing inaudible teammates
praised showered, visited
head upon one, with grit and gall,
who clinched championship
wrathful excoriation against me
referee could not forestall,
who fumbled, kindled (as predicted)
loose tongues flaying hide with no rescue
to escape being skewered behind eight ball,
thus the above "FAKE"
metaphor merely to accentuate
self repudiation delivering
to this defacto scapegoat
bullies taunts endlessly berate
ting, jackknifing, and resulting
with implacable self hate
deferrening allowance,
asper my grant (migrant)
humph...pariah status
to learn social skills quite late,
and apathetically to marry and mate
despite ambivalence within my pate
even now...the entombed fortress prison wall,
I cannot obliterate
hence... no surprise WALLS - I HATE!