Best Baulked Poems
Ted enjoys a quick roll in the hay...
He’s sleeping with his buxom P A
She confirmed she’s with child
Ted baulked, then got quite riled
I wonder what his wife’s got to say!
5/26/18
Inside such dreams of never lasting days
We traversed such wanting thoughts in emotional astray
On that December night, to our cottage on the hill
Where on many a moonlit walk, we allowed our thoughts to spill
Our footprints of life we took in threaded tread we walked
When one was about to talk, in confusion abound, we baulked
Snowflakes we often talked about, turned to emotional rain
Drowning your wisps of auburn, natures moistness becomes our drain
Such memories of our past, where the rains graced your clover
And I your beloved, once graced your body over
No longer shall I sense your breath so warm against my chest
As you delightfully grace my lobes, my internal heart now stressed
Your kisses I still feel, their once touch of tender brush
Like tumble-weed they now drift, my lips in different crush
On warm white sheets we used to lay, we called them our clouds of heaven
No longer shall crease, not one day out of seven
No longer shall our fingers dance over undulations of we
Or will our torso's mingle, like the ivy graces the tree
The losing of you is massive, our peripheral declares it a shame
Beloved to each other we're not, it's life, no ones to blame.....
We start at the end, with the warmth of his breath on her skin
Baulked by proximity, he never knew how to begin
A golden-tainted obsession, bitterly laced with lead
Transformed rapture to quicksilver the instant Cupid fled
A moment held, made static, tender touch met with distress
For seeded in her veins, lies a stem of the wilderness
Pursuit stalled just in time, yet time itself recalibrates
Supplanted upon breaking, a laurel shoot germinates
Oh, what should have been the faintest touch cannot be undone
Rooted in the throes of escape, bound to bask in full sun
Sinews harden to fibre, each pulse springs a bonsai tree
Bark chokes her voice box; silent screams nest in the canopy
Locked in abjection, as her praying hands first plead then splay
As liberty, though not consciousness, is taken away
Overruled in evergreen, contortion as regal crown
Petrified white marble shall become her eternal gown
In Ovid’s Metamorphoses, the god Apollo mocks Cupid for wielding a bow, claiming it unworthy of a child. In retaliation, Cupid shoots Apollo with a golden arrow to ignite love, and Daphne a chaste nymph with a leaden one to incite revulsion. Though innocent, Daphne becomes the target of Apollo’s relentless pursuit. Just as he is about to seize her, she prays for escape, and her body is transformed into a laurel tree. Bernini’s stunning sculpture captures the precise moment of this metamorphosis
He deems the ways and dares to understand,
a measure of a love that went astray,
from libelled forces, which compelled his hand,
to lies, and morals left to slow decay.
No one forgo or risk refute her right,
a stubborn choice is seldom steered by sense.
To cease callow mishaps from leaving blight .
sound case to aid her act of self-defence.
Yet, who can purge despair from a man’s soul,
who boldly baulked against such mortal deed?
His choice dismissed as outside his control,
no matter pleading creed, indeed, his breed.
Such anguish will forever convolute
because abstracts are never absolute.
06.27.21
You are free to choose, but you are not free to alter the consequences of your decision
– Ezra Taft Benson (politician)
Ron desperately wanted to have a girlfriend
He’d looked after his old mum right till the end
Ron was a tall and extremely attractive guy
Unfortunately poor Ron was so terribly shy
He saw a poster in a window for a single’s night
There’d be lots of ladies, it seemed just right
He phoned the organiser, her name was Eva
She’d greet him at the door; he couldn’t wait to meet her
Eva smiled when she saw Ron’s handsome face
with her skin-tight dress he baulked at her embrace
Her huge breasts looked like two bald headed men
He extracted himself; so he could breathe again!
Tables for two were set up around the room
Scented candles gave off a lovely perfume
Ron sat down at a table in search of a date
Would he be lucky and meet his soul mate?
Big Beryl sat down; she had such bad halitosis
She covered her mouth hoping Ron wouldn’t notice
The moment she spoke poor Ron got a foul blast
When their time was up; Ron moved seats - fast!
Then next he met Ann; she was obsessed with her pussy
He would only eat Whiskas; her Tom was ever so fussy
But any hope of romance they had to defer
As Ron had an allergy to animal fur
Butch Bertha said she preferred women to guys
Ron thought it a pity as she had such lovely eyes
Her mother had forced her to go out that night
They both agreed a date just wouldn’t be right
Mavis nervously sat down, she was painfully thin
From the smell of her breath, she’d been hitting the gin
She said she’d had a tipple to steady her nerves
And she’d got her hip flask if she needed reserves!
Ron began to think speed dating contrary
Then a beauty arrived, her name was Mary
Pretty in pink she stood out from the crowd
She was shy and demure and she wasn’t too loud
Ron hesitantly asked Mary if he could give her a call
And their very first date was at the local dance hall
At the end of the night they shared their first kiss
Now they’re happily married and life is just bliss
09-27-17
Kobey is a Diamond, who despite his verbal trials
Got taken to a courthouse, for he baulked at dingos wiles
He lost his rag, he'd grabbed his phone; he swore he'd
Had enough, he rolloked the state premier; said life was
Tough enough, he e-ffed at him and made a din, said
Lockdown was a joke, I think he wished 'old dingo' on
His mandates bill would choke?then he brought his mother
Into things which got the judge quite riled.. So he gave
Kobry a lecture; as one might with a child he'd have to
Write an apology.. Say sorry and other lies, I wouldn't
Worry Kobey, that's just typical courthouse style, dingo's
At it every day, He's just like a machine, much more
Than once in a in a while' till he got that quarrantine
He' d Hold on tight; treat em mean and keep em keen.'
Just like in bdsm, they wear a mask; you set the tasks
And if they're good? they can come up for air a'gin '
So looking on things Kobey, I don't rate you a threat.'
Yet I really the do take issue, with the way that you were treat
You fronted up that liar; you opened up the truth
You,'re found to be an asset, though they were so uncouth..
Another aspect to you, is your discerning streak
You know the score, and damage caused in only two short
Weeks.?? Then as far as freedom goes, I see you're a true lover!
Also it's great news to me; that 'old dingo even, has a mother.?
Take me away with your eloquent talk
Tell me news about my ideology
Show me the opportunities baulked
Smile at my unsaid apologies
Put me into scheme where I’m just a screw
Within a machine that makes war
Stereotype me with anything you
Distinguished about times before
Your precious guidance is my comfort zone
All you expected to see
That’s what I am, when I’m here alone
And you are talking to me
What can I say? There’s no way to ignore
Calamities of some failed state
Where I was accidentally born
You wouldn’t envy this fate
I won't try to disarm the army
I can't vacate laws and police
Of course I don’t think its too funny
To be accused for all this
Don’t want to cause any damage
There is no point to load you
With what I’m not able to manage
With something beyond my full due
As you have hinted, I’m little
So in metaphysical sense
There's nothing about to fiddle
I cost no extensive expence
I value a lot what you say
You are my interlocutor here
You help me to live through the day
Even if me you can’t hear.
Just to share an incident caught on video clip.....
About one very tragic accident no parent could possibly forsee....
Good thing we've social media to educate you and me...
A moment of harmless fun between a son and his father..
An instant later, the loving father must shoulder forever...
The blame and the excruciating pain of being his son's killer....
It's tragic but we should be grateful for social media...
Somewhere in China a father is in deep grief so other children may yet live...
It's so sad but let all of us beware, harmless fun & games can be deadly at times...
In this videoclip, somewhere within a shop in China...
A loving father engaged his 4year old boy in casual play...
He had his hands behind, grasping lovingly his son's hands..
He was the engine head, his son was being pulled along as a train...
Laughingly the little boy baulked and slowed down his father's pace..
The hapless father faltered and staggered a little, tried to maintain his balance...
He fell backwards ackwardly, heavily and horrors, it was most deadly...
There must have been a sickening crunch as he fell upon his boy's head..
When he got up to his feet hurriedly, his son laid inert, limp and dead..
Turned out the unlucky boy has his neck broken, it was an instantaneous death...
What follows next, you see a devastated father craddling the limp body of his son..
Tragedy has struck, a father is to grieve for a lifetime, as a killer of his very own son....
http://www.thestar.com.my/news/regional/2016/10/14/chinese-boy-dies-after-father-accidentally-falls-on-him/.
We groomed him to perfection
lured him with our lights
cooed him with our sizzles
blurred his dreams and sights
We slotted him in awkward
hampered his imput
laced his drink with moonshine
on his fingers shut
We cautiously immersed him.....while his mind involved
then cut him in slow motion.....as our pills dissolved
Goons staggered in his footsteps
cracked behind his back
baulked him in the darkness
saddled him with black
We gathered to ignore him
clashed in crude mischief
receptive in our duty
deceptive in our sleep
The schoolyard's sang his story
the children gagged and quipped
in church his face was gory
in time his name be ripped
So a section dress to party
forfeited his invite
we'll designate the barmy to blind his way tonight
Attire obtuse and tarty
a slice above the knee
let's prey on his exclusion from pagan history
A victim of the streets
She's one of the homeless,
A victim of society
She left the broken home,
Try as they may there was no fixing it,
Her parents deciding, to go their own ways,
She turned to drugs and drink
And lost control,
They said was nothing they could do, now she was in that hole,
She was lost they said both in heart and soul
And so be came a destitute,
In a world of decrepitude,
Open to being abused,
This now was the life for her
And it wasn't even her fault,
This is where she had been brought,
Down on her knees and she baulked,
In the face of responsibility,
She longed just to be free of this life
And this isn't right,
That this became her plight,
And there was no one there for her
And no support or care,
Welcome to the underworld,
She was now a junkie girl,
Turning tricks and getting burned,
Within a society that turns a blind eye,
That covers up its ears
And that ignored all of her tears
That she cries alone at night.
A Scotsman sat on a thistle,
If it was a flying missile,
He would have seen it in the air
The prickly thistle just sat there
It didn't even need to whistle.
This Scotsman's name was Jock,
Every morning at 8-o-clock
He took his puppy for a walk
Suddenly the puppy baulked
'Cos he had a shock
Something had bitten his paw,
He held it up; it was very sore,
Jock bent down to have a look
And suddenly felt very crook,
Making him fall on the floor.
He had landed on that thistle,
Which was as hard as bristle
He was too stunned to talk
They did not want to resume their walk
So he signalled to the pup with a whistle.
The charisma of his car eclipsed ambition,
By a margin that defined his wife's contempt,
It became a precursor to superstition,
That he'd lose some race from which he was exempt.
As his ego baulked at masculine pretentions,
While his Missus cringed at alcohol-free beer,
The addiction of his sixty-four abstentions,
Were the prison-wall-marks chronicling his years.
He had dreamt mis-matching figures prior to midnight,
But retirement loomed resplendant as his soul,
And some whisper that a risk gives birth to insight,
Made him seek expanded knowledge as a whole.
The excessive engine ate acceleration,
Like an orphan who'd forever ask for more,
But pathetic was his brief emancipation;
When he hit a bus, at only sixty-four.
I am desperate, and demoralised, I don't know what to do,
What will be my very next step; I have not the faintest clue.
From street to street in search of work, tirelessly I have walked,
Because of innate diffidence, success has repeatedly baulked.
Born less gifted, slow witted, and presumably terribly mediocre,
Competing with the more endowed, was never within my power.
My self-esteem was cruelly sapped, with contemptuous rejection,
Achievement has eluded me because of my negative aspiration!
From street to street wearily I trudge, in search of any work.
My stars are down, my destiny doomed-- tragic is life's quirk!
What recourse to take, I fail to guess, to earn an honest pie,
If survival is so difficult for me, the only option left- is to die!
Now for the long flight home feeling lost in present roam
Reliving our past days, weeks, my minds in wanting comb
Her smile, her charm, her look of warm, inviting adorn
We walked, we talked, but we never baulked our future born
Now eight thousand miles from each other, but, just yesterday
We joked, we laughed, we kissed, we cried, our us, in display
No sooner back, our paths grew strong, another flight booked
Her parents I meet, our paster we seek, yea, we're hooked
Forested walks, and more we talked, her family we're graced
Near future plans, to be adorned, two families soon embraced
Rizal statue, countryside, amidst its lush, two hearts beside
Balai Gloria's wish, two blessings futures bliss, we're now allied
Once again, against our grain, Manila bound, our hearts ground
Knowing that soon we'll be as one, soon to share sacred sounds
I'm standing on the external, Ninoy - Manila, waving blind goodbye
She never turned, turnaround, me too, we're too emotional in cry
X
Graveyard Argument
"Today's people are not at all cowards
"They don't fear treading graveyards
"Though' wisdom of the dead we cherish
"To fear the dead makes us all perish
"To shudder in front of the cold dead
"Is banging walls with one's soft head!"
"Your mind must be miles away so lost
"To think I must quake to see a ghost
"Would you desert a martyred Comrade
"In the battle, who to rest must be laid?
"Those that work in the cold mortuaries,
"Why are they not loath to obituaries?
"Things have changed, changed so fast:
"We baulked before, afraid to go past
"A mound where deceased lonely lay;
"Fear twisting hair in a grotesque play!
"Surely, those were prosaic days of yore
"We hearkened to as we do to folklore.
06th Sept' 2013