Best Buckled Poems
The gun seems gun-shy in this space;
where deer hides hang on rustic walls
and granddad-tick-tocks beat, instead
of hearts in hollowed skins. The gun
a “trophy-bagger” in its rack,
a loud-mouth predator at rest,
this motherless, brother-less thug
perceives no pity-pangs... the gun
now quiet, buckshot empty, cold.
Above the stove’s phoenix soul hangs
an antlered head with prideful tines
the man, with bear-paw hands, had won.
A fox in freeze-frame-trot, a stiff
with cat glass eyes, attests his prize.
Indeed, like litterfall they fell,
unseen his haunt in hunter gear, his gun
a junkyard dog of steel. I say
they're beautiful in life. He says
they’re beautiful in death. Between
our words — a stand of pine — the shot!
that brought the shock of ammo air
that rib-cage-ripped and broke the breath,
that hurled the crows against the sky —
the blast that felled the 10-point buck that failed to sense your goddamn gun!
Yeah... blame the buck his reckless pose
and buckled throes. You felt the king!
Behind tight trees you sat with dawn
in sniper-silhouette. The gun
felt nothing; no remorse, no joy
—it, too, hangs upon the wall.
Categories:
buckled, animal, conflict, death, life,
Form:
Quatrain
I attended a large gathering and took some time
to observe the great assortment of shoes stacked on the racks
I saw new shoes, pricey shoes, and shoes not worth a dime
and shoes that seemed to have crossed many paths and tracks.
I saw dainty sandals and flighty high heeled ones too
I saw sporty sneakers and rough and tough trainers
I saw both the laced and the leathery buckled shoe
Then I saw the humble yet hardy pair of slippers.
I saw pointy shoes, furry shoes and flatties as well
I saw flowery ones and those studded with trinket gems
Some stacked neatly in pairs, others thrown about pell mell
Some recently repaired, some coming off at the hems.
I saw long boots, rubber boots and
there were glittery Indian styled stilettoes
I spotted fragile glass sandals and metallic brass sandals
and soft comfy ones for comfort of feet 'n' toes.
And while I was thus lost and engrossed
in watching the great assortment of footwear
The old caretaker, to me, a cheap pair tossed
saying, ' here's an extra pair if you've lost your shoes.
She was too busy and distracted to be in my shoes of muse
So I'd to slip out thinking of some quick excuse
She didn't even notice I wasn't actually barefoot
So I had to take them elsewhere, both my muse and my boot!
Ah, and long ago when once we could afford only a 'shoestring' budget
I once hadn't enough bucks to replace a worn out pair of shoes
I was sad for not having even a good goody two shoes
Then God showed me a wayfarer's shoeless pair of barefeet
and then one hapless one with no feet at all!
So I could imagine life being in their missing shoes.
(Footnote*
Wonderin where I saw so many shoes off peoples feet? Well, in our religious gatherings say for prayers in the mosque hall or even the religious lecture hall, we've to enter barefooted and sit down crosslegged. So that's where you come across all kinds of shoes on racks provided in the cubicle.
Actually in the Disney movie, 'THE PRINCE OF EGYPT', i marked that even Moses took off his shoes before talking to God.)
Categories:
buckled, humor, inspirational, social,
Form:
Quatorzain
From now on, I'll focus eyes above the trees
when years have yet to be designed
with unknown lands, the eyes can't see.
I can't forget what's left behind,
or the weight of tears that buckled knees,
but will look ahead, and set them free
Scars left upon the heart grew deep
and I felt the thorns that taunted me
But, I'll release the ghosts and set them free
to make my peace with destiny.
Some tears have washed away the times,
of steeper footpaths that I have climbed.
I will persevere, again, regain
a willingness to change the rhyme
Next year has yet to be designed
where eyes can see, where promise lies
We can't forget what's left behind,
but to all those things, let's say goodbye...
and spread new wings to fly
________________________________________________________
Categories:
buckled, future, hope,
Form:
Quintain (English)
The old upright piano sits flush against the wall,
has been hushed into silence, out on the sun porch
Ignored, neglected, but standing erect
I can imagine it was treasured in its prime,..polished, stylish, and new
But age has turned the varnish yellow
The veneer a bit buckled, the bench has been repaired
with clamps, screws, and Elmer’s wood glue
A relic from another time.
Songbooks are still cradled, but pedals are disabled.
We can almost hear its breath exhale, with tinny-rhythmic sighs
Two white keys might stick,...and three or four are chipped...
And tears, chopsticks, hearts and souls were spilled on ivory seas
If only clocks could turn back time
Mother sitting next to me, side by side, ... our worlds aligned
Keeping the rhythm, over and over, measure by measure,
... playing together the “The Blue Danube”.
___
With her hands over mine, pointing out the key of C
And what I can still see,...so clear in my mind..,
are the blue veins of her hands enveloping mine,
leaning into the waltz, a bit off key
(It needed tuning…It always did. Never mattered. Never will)
I was small. My fingers couldn’t reach them all,
those pock-marked, scarred, and magic keys
But the measure of Johann Strauss would bounce off the walls…
She would hum into my ear…
Her soft brown hair would mix with mine
I could smell Breck shampoo, and feel her breath upon my cheek
And feel the music, soft and sweet, classic light…from that old Upright...
A simple tune…the waltz of time
that has played on and on... long beyond her life
and will play on long beyond my own
__________________________________________________________
Categories:
buckled, blue, childhood, mother, old,
Form:
Narrative
Affluent and formal
pink lilies deck the tables;
we await the
sweet, affected
laughter of our friends.
Bedecked in bouffant hair-do's
perfumes, ermines, jewels
brocades and buckled shoes,
we dazzle, yes! We dazzle
with our mirrors, and our decals,
our precious art, and plaster,
exotic candelabras,
but I can't wait to make my
exit to wander in the gardens
and let the scented air restore
my soul
To get completely
lost in moonlight and
fragrance of the night
never to return,
to that balcony, nor
endure, the boring empty twitter
that temporary glitter.
I can barely wait till daylight to
mount my noble horse
and gallop miles and miles
and miles away.
To feel the solid earth resound
beneath his flying feet.
I have crossed that fragile threshold
into madness.
I can no longer be a Duchess
Suzanne Delaney
Categories:
buckled, fantasy, farewell, identity,
Form:
Free verse
She leaves Southampton
This Titanic ship
Her maiden voyage
New York trip
Channel crossings to Cherbourg, France
To Queenstown in Ireland
Where passengers dance
To some, a new life awaits
The future will seal their fate
Newfoundland waters
Temperature drop
Impending disaster
Without a thought
Lookouts, Fleet and Lee
Spot a large iceberg close to she
Sitting off her starboard bow
Sweat dripping from their brow
Telegraph indicator
In confusion state
This colossus of ice
Sits and waits
Inevitable meet
As natures diamond rips
Starboard side
Of this most wonderful ship
Rivets pop, buckled hull
Atlantic intrusion, in volumes now
Compartments fill, this White Star gem
Will we ever see her likes again
Distress signal sent
As the crew are readied
This ship of ships
Emotionally unsteady
Lifeboats launched
Woman and children first
On this terrible night
Many fear the worst
So many passengers
Few lifeboats
As all around
Bodies float
Stern raised, props showing
Metal talking, funnels choking
Lights flicker off and on
Blackout
Categories:
buckled, history, life, loss, sea
Form:
Rhyme
In ancient times when knights were bold,
They dressed in armor, so we're told.
When they went out to face their foe,
Their armor protected them head to toe.
Christians we must do the same,
Or be struck down by Satan's aim.
His flaming arrows fly all around,
Intending to knock us to the ground.
So put on God's armor without delay,
We need His protection everyday.
For our struggle is not against what we can see,
But the powers of darkness are our enemy.
Stand firm then and dress with all haste,
Start with truth buckled 'round your waist.
Satan fights dirty by spreading lies,
But the belt of God's truth will make us wise.
Next is the Breastplate of Righteousness,
That God provides for all who are His.
It's the righteousness of Christ covering you,
That the evil one cannot stand up to.
Now cover your feet with the readiness of,
Sharing God's gospel of peace and love..
Take the Shield of Faith and keep it near,
To deflect Satan's arrows of confusion and fear.
Place the Helmet of Salvation firmly on your head,
It will keep Satan's lies from filling you with dread.
He wants to make you doubt your salvation is sure,
But the helmet will guard your mind and keep you secure.
Your armor is complete, but now you need a sword,
So take the Sword of the Spirit, the Word of the Lord.
God's Word is sufficient to defend or attack.
With God's Word in your heart you can hold Satan back.
With your armor in place and your Sword in your hand,
Be strong in the Lord and in His power stand.
And pray in the Spirit at all times and all ways,
Cause the enemy trembles when Saints start to pray!
Based on Ephesians 6:10-18
Categories:
buckled, faith, inspirational, religion, truth,
Form:
Couplet
big blue eyes pierced my soul
took away all resistance
knees buckled at his touch
I belonged to him
blonde hair, blue eyes, dimpled smile
are enough to melt one's heart
one touch was all it took
babies first cuddle.
Categories:
buckled, blue,
Form:
Dodoitsu
His mother was in the kitchen
There came a knock upon the door,
It was a policeman, with a telegram
She buckled to the floor.
Of course, she knew what it meant
But could scarce believe it true,
For every night, she'd prayed aloud
"Lord, see him safely through"
Her dearest boy, young and brave,
Sought glory overseas,
As he left for France she sobbed,
"Take care, come back to me"
But her dearest boy isn't coming home
For he had paid the price,
He fell out there on the front.
His future sacrificed.
Off he'd marched, with his pals,
heroes, every one.
Now they lay on Flanders fields,
Each a mothers son.
No victory parades for them,
No medals pinned to chests.
But never to be forgotten,
As with the Lord, they rest.
Categories:
buckled, war,
Form:
Rhyme
On the wind-swept Nebraska prairie sits a building in wretched shambles,
Surrounded by a sagging fence and overgrown with prickly brambles.
It was once a bustling one-room school house, abandoned long ago.
Its weather-beaten clapboards, I judged to be a century old or so.
Atop its cupola, swaying listlessly in the wind, was a rusted weather vane.
Eerily, at the whim of the wind, the school bell still tolled now and again.
Two ancient oak trees stood sentinel seeming to provide a guard,
To ensure that trespassers like me would value its past with high regard.
I warily opened the door, its rusty hinges protesting, to take a look inside.
Mice skittered across the dusty floor and cobwebs I had to brush aside.
There were well-worn desks, a blackboard and pot-bellied stove for heat.
To muse about its past and the ghosts of scholars of yore, I took a seat.
I pictured the schoolmarm who taught readin', writin' and basic math,
Who struggled to maintain order with imps who suffered her fearful wrath!
Little girls looked so prim in their pinafores and gingham frocks;
The boys wore knickers, buckled boots and gaudy argyle socks!
I could hear the droning recitations of pupils whose attention would digress,
To the ticking of the school clock anticipating the merriment of recess!
I noted relief on the teacher's face when at last the kids were released.
I sensed that she felt she had been nurturing a horde of wild beasts!
Categories:
buckled, nostalgia, school,
Form:
Rhyme
Motionless
It looked such a sorry sight
Standing in the shed
Covered in rust and dust
With just a trace of red
A vibrant red with a flash of black
Across the outside door
No sign of this embellishment
As the car sinks into the floor of the shed
A car that has lost its glory
Stands motionless and dead
This old car was my pride and joy
Many moons ago
It's going to be a wrench
To see this vehicle go
Even though the seats are worn
As are the tyres, gears and brakes
When the engine is turned on
A dreadful noise it makes
Smoke billows everywhere
The muffler has snuffed it
Mice have made their home in there
Which they must soon all exit
Broken windscreen, windows scratched
Doors all buckled and dented
Tattered stickers on the car
Air freshener that once was scented
I suppose it's true or so it's said
Everything has its day
This was my thinking
As the car was towed away
To the wreckers. a graveyard for most
One wonders if those worn-out cars
Become angels or ghosts
Categories:
buckled, animal, car, death, destiny,
Form:
Rhyme
I remember the days when I was small,
obedient and too young to be alone at a mall
Mama would let me go out and play,
with my bare feet on the sand; building shapes with the clay
All day long it would be the same ,
but it all changed when Sunday came...
The comfortable sandals converted to buckled shoes,
that definitely did not reveal my toes
My bright coloured shorts replaced by a white dress,
Oh. My mother dearest forbade me to mess
Then there were those navy blue tights,
itchy, hot and I couldn't put up a fight
Mama would fetch her hat, all decorated with sequins and lace,
she thought it complimented her feminine face.
Baba would stay comfortable on the couch,
while off she went to fetch her pouch
When we arrived, there they all were identical in their Sunday-gear,
hugs and handshakes were exchanged everywhere,
then the service would start with its exciting atmosphere.
What I remember most, was when we got home,
Greens, oranges, reds and rice
But my favourite was always that roast chicken with lots of spice!
Categories:
buckled, childhoodme,
Form:
Free verse
They say change is easy,
a breeze, a flow,
If done their way,
a path they already know.
But they haven't walked your miles,
felt the sting,
Of trying everything,
Yet still not taking wing.
They haven't tasted failure,
the bitter pill,
Of dreams unfurling,
then standing still.
They haven't known the struggle,
the uphill climb,
Of pushing through the darkness,
one step at a time.
So let their words fall light,
like feathers on a breeze,
For they haven't walked your path,
haven't felt your knees.
Buckled under the weight,
of a fight they haven't known.
A battle fought in silence,
a battle fought alone.
You've given everything a go,
no matter what the cost,
Had courage to keep on trying,
even when you felt lost.
For even in the struggle,
strength is found.
A resilience that whispers,
"I will rise from the ground".
So hold your head high,
let their words fade away.
You've walked your own path
and that's enough to say.
For the journey you've taken,
the battles you've faced,
Have shaped you, defined you,
a spirit embraced.
And one day, when they stumble,
their path unclear,
They'll remember your strength,
your unwavering cheer.
And realise that change, for some,
is a steeper climb,
A journey of resilience,
one step at a time.
Categories:
buckled, hope, inspirational,
Form:
Rhyme
On a warm summer evening
we are pinned together on the octopus ride,
twirling with excited pleasure.
Even the breeze we swirl through
cannot cool us down,
for the passion of new love
consumes us.
We browse along the Midway,
and he buys for me spun sugar on a stick.
Later we sit buckled in on the seat
of a huge lit-up ferris wheel.
It circles round and round as we swing our legs
while surveying the bustling gleeful folk below.
I shiver with a fever
of anticipation.
At the pinnacle of our last go-around
on this gigantic wheel,
the ride hovers there in the cooling night air.
The stars above us seem to be dancing with delight.
He leans over and his lips meet mine.
I taste the sweetness of cotton candy
and melt into our first kiss,
never wanting again to come back down
to earth.
Categories:
buckled, romantic,
Form:
Free verse
Tempest
A tempest rages darkly in my soul
Grief invades and disquiets solitude
The theories that I held once, now are crushed
Beneath the weight of loss and emptiness
These beliefs which allowed naiveté
To entertain ideals of joy throughout
Each storm that life can toss my way….
Well, no longer do I have such hope; no more
Deeply felt are hurts that lingered back
Among the fringes of distraction's ruse, where
I provided shelter for each trace of morose thought
But now that cover has been blown aloft
Wicked wind has buckled rigid walls
That so carefully constructed by me stood
By one great gust the sheen was stripped away
From pools of sorrow just beneath the skin
Now, ugly do they lie; these open wounds
They threaten to anile all peace and calm
For here, released from bonds of safe restraint,
The tempest rages free and thunders on
©Donna Golden
June 19, 2005
Categories:
buckled, angst, confusion, depression, loss,
Form:
Blank verse