Best Beady Poems
*The Dead Poet*
Many blocks along the road,
Kicking down walls of heavy stones,
Yet no one could draw through the walls of her lonely bones.
A poet who could not write what's inside.
Her pen had gone ink dry.
Her beady eyes lost the feel of an angelic realm.
She tried!
She tried until she could no longer cry!
A poet who stuttered with the mind and out came no words.
This poet hangs on a mound with a picture that tells a sad tale.
A poem that broke verses in a Carpe diem dream.
She ruffled her arms once more as if she could fly.
Still nothing,
Everything felt dead inside.
Trap in a mental state that clots the willing vein.
Isolating her form in a room with no door.
She stays this away from the feel of the marvel pen.
To never go back, and feel again.
In the most ominous way,
She lets out a cry,
A cry, never heard before.
Running from this evil, that stain her world.
Words buried deep and behind a new exterior box,
Her insides grasp all the air of air once alive.
A talon drop into the next,
This troublesome poet gave up on everything.
Had nothing left, but the empty space within.
Next!
She curls herself into a fetal world.
At last, she closes her eyes, to feel no more.
A poet who died the day, joy wiped the glee from her face.
by;PD
While moon makes place for sun
dark sky duvet pushed back
stars close their eyes
The restless few
their beady eyes
small marbles
see all
and everything
hip ceaselessly
don't find peace
The intellectuals
philosophize the dark away
invent intricate
solutions
to external worldly
problems
and internal
personal dark
Morning light
moves deep inside
propped up on walls
shines a soft glow
that brings peace
if only for a short while
***
October 15, 2017
Copyright © Darren White
Tale Of Righteous And Just Demise Of Old Jack
Old Jack had shot many before, once just for the sheer hell of it
Never squeamish about the gore or splattered about fleshy bits
Once making it an all night spree, drinking whiskey after each shot
Only once did he do it for free, knowing generosity fills no empty pot.
One hot June night, he did away with tough cat called dangerous Dan
Such a bloody sight, no easy task but put sweet coin in his empty pan
Next day trip at the lake, he sniper shot famous knife fighter Jake
A cool twenty grand take, such sweet fun nobody could ever fake.
Old Jack, wicked as all hell, sure such Fate he would never meet
Called his shots "ringing the bell", having never faced a defeat
Once for big money, shot three men in a shady lakefront bar
Later for loss of his "honey", ran over ex-wife's lover with his car.
One cool Spring day, stranger came sworn to make old Jack pay
Dressed in a beggerdly way, as a weakened and feeble old stray
With hidden might and its all, Fate had finally sent its dark call
While Jack was having a ball, swift bullet made its bloody landfall.
Young John proud as all hell, had so gaily rang Jack's old bell
Had his story to soon tell, how he spate on dying Jack as he fell
One shot between those beady eyes, hundred bucks the prize
Nobody there shed a tear, for now there was young John to fear.
8-29-2018
Rhyme
...inspired by 'The Salamander' by C.S. Lewis
The sun bore down with blinding rays,
the oceans boiled and came to nought,
it was withal the end of days
with every living creature caught,
when from the rocks, agile, adept,
a tiny lizard meekly crept.
With roughened skin and beady eye
he reconnoitered through the haze,
no stranger to a blazing sky
it lay in shade, at last to laze,
it raised his head, albeit weak,
and rallied, then began to speak.
"The Future of Mankind is sealed,
the devil's bell has tolled and won,
no recompense, no last appeal,
eclipsed before you have begun
to fight disease and lawlessness,
the hallmarks of your wickedness.
No light will break from yonder stars
to help you in your hour of need,
your destiny these blighted scars
that seal your folly and your greed,
alone with your predicament,
God's only live experiment.
To mess with Nature to your shame,
to disregard His Holy Name,
to vilify the Golden Rule
will label you the Biggest Fool,
death comes quick as you will see,
the bell has tolled, and tolled for thee."
Blue Girls
John Crowe Ransom
Styling in your leggings, wildly designed,
Strutting to classes in your modern schools—
While texting. Roll your eyes at those old fools
Who think they're so refined.
Toss back the pink extensions in your hair,
And think no more of SAT's at all.
But plan to meet bff's at the mall
To shop for earrings there.
Make duck-face selfies while guys who watch dream
about your lovely, well-toned flesh so tight.
It will sag some day, bringing no delight—
in spite of firming creams.
You think I don't know beauty, but I do!
I know a woman with a poison tongue
and beady eyes that used to be bright-blue.
She turned heads near and far when she was young
and surely knocked the shine off all of you.
The sea gulls down at Barry aren’t your average little pests
They think they own the sea side and the all wear hooded vests
Their beaks are pierced with hoops and studs and drink from cans of bud .
Beady eyes watch picnics
They truly are such thugs
And if you purchase chips from the shop behind the beach
don’t believe you can relax with those tasty scrumptious treats
They’ll watch you exchange money with hungry look upon your face
then hunt you down and rob you with their spray cans full of mace
Dive-bombing little children is their favourite thing to do
then you think they’ve gone but you’d be wrong when they shower you with poo
These antisocial birdies are quite partial to an ale
they really do belong down in Barry Island jail
So be warned these birds are dangerous
Theres no stopping them you know
With their gang tattoos and leathers
Wearing boots with steal capped toes.
You can tell that they mean business and with a welsh sarcastic twang
they bully staff and customers at the local Ice cream van
So pack yourself protection
A helmet and a sword
A shield , a coat of armour
Bring all you can afford
Apart from that it’s glorious
A lovely golden beach
But I wouldn’t risk a smile if you’re wearing your false teeth
As the reaper approached, I lie waiting for death,
whispering sad goodbyes while gasping for breath.
In a blurry haze of awareness, I drift towards sleep,
as visions of childhood days in my mind slowly creep.
I hear muffled sobs of loved ones as they weep.
There's a shadowy presence flying high overhead,
those scavengers of death, those that I most dread.
Their beady black eyes intent on watching my face,
circling around and around. It's a feast they chase,
ebon wing feathers falling as they hasten their pace.
I've need of sanity, so I close my eyes and pretend
I'm walking on a summer day with my best friend.
We're chasing tadpoles and sloshing in streams,
laughing as our skin turns bronze from sunbeams,
then I wake to realize that these were but dreams.
My memories are fading, and my lips feel numb.
To eternity's slumber, I will soon succumb.
I asked someone near me to chase them away...
She bent close and whispered, "What did you say?"
"The vultures circling me. Please keep them at bay."
Clusters of tenebrous clouds obscured the sunlight.
I heard raucous calls of the damned vultures in flight.
Oh, how I begged for their tormenting caws to cease,
for only then would I live my last moments in peace.
I heralded silence then welcomed life's release.
July 10, 2022
Pick-A-Title, Vol 31 Contest
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh
Theme: Vultures Circling
I stood on a rocky shoal, regret lingering on my mind
Its fingers traced blood-filled lines along my bare arm
as if brittle veins in leaves, fallen from their tree
I was not blind to fear or its impending threat of harm
Whispers like the breath of death washed over me
Brief the moment seemed to be between light and dark
Shadows cast then fluttered in ebon depth of night
Twas foretold a tale of danger, imminent and stark
Pale moon risen, silvered orb stared at me from high
A cyclops beast waited to feast when time was right
Scarecrow in a fallow field, on his arms there perched
ravens who then danced on his head, raucously calling
Death rode on a pale horse and scavengers took flight
Fierce, my fright when from the sky, red eyes lurched
I stared in disbelief, knowing I'd no chance of stalling
Barren branches of leafless trees, maudlin limbs
frowned at me with forlorn face of a grim poet, Poe
My weak knees trembled; eyes filled to the brim
Frozen with terror, deprived of taking a last breath,
'twas not snow made me shiver; an ill wind did blow
Brisk the Winter chill when murder of crow took to air
after beady eyes sent a warning glance my way
An eclipse veiled the moon; and I, gripped with despair,
heard their caws, despite my flaws, denied Poe my soul
At water's edge I escaped death's claws on a rocky shoal
I just found out two poodles that I bought
were ferrets! Ay caramba! And guess what?
To make each one resemble less a rat,
they gave them steroids, making them both fat!
They also fluffed their pretty fur just so
around their heads. So how was I to know?
Each one looked so much like a toy poodle
they had me fooled - whole kit and caboodle!
Our veterinarian has verified
the facts for me. Those poodle dealers lied.
And folks now say I should have realized
the truth, which stared at me with beady eyes!
Those ferrets sure run fast; I think I’ll buy
two tiny leashes, or else I could try. . .
to sucker someone stupider than me.
Hey, buy one poodle; get the other free!
For Janice Canerdy's Rhyming Couplets Poetry Contest
* I wrote this April 22, 2013 after hearing a news story about a guy who actually believed he had bought a poodle when it was a ferret on steroids! See above for the link to the news footage!
Minions are so mischievous
but can be oh so sweet.
Three left in my son’s Easter basket
could be a tasty treat.
Yellow covered marshmallows
with beady chocolate eyes
dipped in sugar sprinkles -
a sugar-rush surprise!
One gave me a stomach ache,
one gave a cavity,
the other tickled till I cried.
They're cuter on TV!
For Silent One's Minions Contest, 2/24/16
Through the open window
An unintended entry way
Pale the moonlight streaming
Careless, now the price to pay
It perched upon my bedpost
All reality to confound
A tilted head, a beady eye
As yet he made no sound
My secret now revealed
He knew my every thought
My visitor in a feathered cape
Harbinger of death he brought
At last a guttural caw I heard
And in terror begged" no more",
"Leave me be to my just fate
for yes, I killed the fair Lenore"….
With apology to Mr... Poe
There’s a shark in my soup
Sat down at the bowl
just about to begin
When what did I see
but a little gray fin
Swimming around
and making a loop
A strange sight to see
down there in my soup
I reached for the can
just couldn’t resist
I needed to check
the ingredient list
Noodles and chicken
and carrots it read
Celery, spices
was all that it said
I looked down again
and now I could see
A mouth full of teeth
that were grinning at me
Two beady eyes
and a tail at the back
It seemed that my soup
was about to attack
So quickly I reached
and grabbed for my spoon
The whole time just wishing
it was a harpoon
I stabbed and I splashed
then I had to regroup
And yelled for my mom
“There’s a shark in my soup!”
It’s then that she shook me
I opened my eyes
It didn’t take long
for me to realize
That I was asleep
laying safe in my bed
That shark in my soup
it was all in my head
She said, “I’m so sorry
you had a bad dream
How about I go get you
a bowl of Ice Cream”
I answered her, “Yes,
that would be really great
But instead of a bowl
could you just use a plate”
Written for: Shark in the soup Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anthony Slausen
Percy penguin tried to dance
Sadly he had two left feet
Waltz and Tango – he took his chance
But he couldn’t quite get the beat
Then one day he did espy
An advert with his beady eye
Dance Classes Starting TODAY
He began to smile it made his day
So off to the dance hall he did go
He found a lady penguin - her name was Flo
She had lost her dancing partner – he died at sea
Now she was as happy as can be
Percy took hold of her wing and tried to dance
Could this be the start of a beautiful romance?
Alas, Percy kept treading on her tiny toes
She needed them all to walk on the ice floes
They tried again; attempting a waltz and you could see
Percy was busily counting one two three one two three
Their dancing days continue, and to this day they carry on
You see them dance on the ice beneath the setting sun
18th June 2015
Sour Rita is a meter maid
she’s checking car drivers have paid
if you step out of line
she will issue a fine
of Rita drivers are afraid
Her beady eyes dart round the lot
she’s looking for folk who forgot
to pay and display
and it makes her day
to impose a fine like a shot
From fining she’ll never deter
don’t attempt to reason with her -
just zip up your gob
she’s doing her job
next journey arrange a chauffeur!
4/26/19
The girl and her smile straddle the rainbow.
Neon hair the fluid cascades of northern lights,
her seafoam cloak the ripples outgrown by the shore.
She adores the breeze adorned with gems.
Emeralds fly from silk strings in wriggle-giggle wind,
as jaded kites made of ruby and sapphire and pearl
sit on a picnic checkerboard in envy-green grass
betting on play-dates with zephyrs.
White dice cubes roll beady-black-eyes at their folly.
She chases books as they sail from trees.
Their soft-covers as nimble as sparrows’ flit.
She leafs through slices of fruitcake,
each nutty page a looney tooney frame of insane;
Mr. H. Dumpty carouses with Mick Jagger swagger,
two baby paisley owls drive a ‘67 mustang car,
the car does a hop-scotch down bourbon street.
Field-mouse-flowers meow,
the moon jumps over the cow,
and she sings “the world needs more bumblebees!”
The golden palm of a five-fingered maple leaf
offers a diamond ring.
Palm trees pull up anchor and hover
in sunset silhouette like Mai Tai parasols.
A two-masted schooner scries seawater for its soul.
She laughs as black-habited nuns ride
upside-down on the roller-coaster rim
their feet kicking the billow-bellies of clouds ‘til
they fall into dreamcatchers sticky
and tricky as spiderwebs,
and a doughy-boy-baker loses
the reins of sugar-cookie-horses tilling
confetti seeds in a magician's puppet garden
where Dali wombs and peacock plumes bloom.