Best Careened Poems
One spring day meandering in a meadow,
I saw a butterfly whose beauty matched that
of May's azure sky.
With blue silken wings like that of a fairy,
she flitted here and there -
aimlessly as butterflies seem wont to do.
Oh, to be that butterfly,
alighting on any pretty flower whose scent delighted me -
unhurried and unworried.
I would be that butterfly breezing through the meadow
meandering . . . meandering . . .
to where – I did not know,
but soon I found myself beside a brook.
My heart became the song of blue bells
which danced with the wind beside the brooklet.
And as my little friend fluttered on,
I careened behind her with arms outstretched,
laughing as the long grasses through which I leaped
tickled the calves and shins of my legs.
Soon I was approaching a grove of tall green trees -
meandering . . . meandering.
I kept my eyes on the bright blue wings ahead of me.
Freely I flowed like the wind that swept through my hair
as it fluttered the leaves of the tall green trees
until suddenly – the butterfly
was vanished from my view!
I knew not to where I’d wandered,
but in my heart I had no fear.
All things come to an end eventually,
but also all paths eventually lead
to somewhere.
Turning myself back toward the direction
from which I’d come
and with my arms spread wide,
I let the butterfly in me
take me eastward -
meandering . . meandering.
When the blackest nightmares were realized
and bitter truth pierced cracked, brittle armor
When candles of last hope flickered and faded
and darkness closed on the edge of vision
When despair careened towards insanity
and aching fists and fingers began to slip
When the abyss called, a mighty hand reached
and lifted me silent to higher ground
Art Gallery. Museum. Parks. Zoo.
Cultural Events.
Glazed like raku pottery
In charcoal rainbows warbled all dark
On pidgeon necks
Like hell’s angels, dumbed,
Blowing smoke through your mind
In a haze of dreams
The city is made of a giant fractal wart
On a witch’s cheeks there’s blush.
Movies. Games. Bars. Clubs.
Cultural Events.
Maybe she’s singing a hymn
With forked tongue
The green fires burning gold and money
Into the skies pitch red
Flirting and skirting sale-priced
Fashion iconography. Architecture
Sophisticating the simple desires.
You’re lost.
Foreclosure. Lawsuit. Divorce.
Cultural Events.
Emblazoned with some valor
Flags of the dead days
Killed like a haiku short-lived
Plopped one by one
Your teeth fell.
Bankruptcy. Fired. Laid off.
Cultural Events.
Brightly darkly the shiny sheens
Of sweat they bubbled in blood red and iron
In that champagne of success
Guilt. Acne. Alcohol. Headache.
Cultural Events.
The feather dust flies and the smell of tar
Rubber in your face
We have drug solutions for your
Unhappiness.
Cancer. HIV. Vaccines. Death.
Cultural Events.
Beer gardens, beer babies, beer bellies,
Beds, homes, and wined babes
Pretty victims and voices they make
Cultural Events.
The city life careened my poetry
Towards those
Crazy wronged right fools
Still swimming the street in search
Furtive, arms afire just fighting
Firing, fleeing into those chains.
Claims. Refrains. Drowned Voices.
Cultural Events.
We had fun when we were young,
When seemed life had just begun.
We danced nights at the beach,
So filled with dreams to reach!
Reckless once, against the wind,
Hair untamed, wild, unpinned;
We were rebels. We were free,
We weren't stuffy bourgeoisie!
Took a ride down Lover's Lane;
Scattered petals in the rain.
We were cool. We drove fast.
Though the dawn could not last.
We had friends in every place;
Knew our love's first embrace.
Red sunsets over meadow green,
On country roads we careened!
We built castles in the sand,
Had our causes, took our stand;
We were hip. Had our clique.
Our step lively, pace so quick.
We were daring. We were brave.
Never we strict. Never grave.
We were passion. We were fire!
We could run and never tire.
Tempo fast when we were youths,
And searching out our own truths;
But we never looked into the sun-
Excess caution's worse than none!
I've often felt quite helpless..Although i would fight hard, against the ocean of life
With its often; errant strong surging tides.'
In twenty twenty five we saw Los Angeles
Besieged; many areas were set ablaze; a great
City upon its knees.' The factor of bad
management of water not held in the
Ammount, that would really be needed
when on it; services had to count.' Also the
Arsonists did their job, a nasty crew indeed
I like others felt asized, of the helplessnes
As the Santa Annas careened.' No respite
Came the news reports, I saw many people
Had died.' I sensed defeat and could
almost taste the charcoal, it was fraught
; and yes I felt a tear in
My eye.. Yet all at once I thought of
God.? who was bigger than any disaster..I said a prayer then put up a blog, and requested prayers to 'the only Master' others joined and but a day and night.? A sea mist rose and rolled in early light.' Then on this improvement rain arrived..The
worst danger over and the remenant survived..'
Now i arrive at year twenty twenty six..A similar tale..My stomach felt sick twenty eight fires in
Victoria my 'home State' hit Again not
Accidents all.. A lot i'd guess were lit.? I decided to ask the Lord again, wondering would He
Have mercy this second time my friends?
All un-worthy i appealled for help.' Others
Answered, i continued and hoped.. For betters trends, again
Weather reports said no respite maybe dry
Lightening ( would more evil arrive? ) another day past I checked the news.' The
First I read was disaster.' My heart went to
My shoes..So my prayers were unaswered.'
Still i decided to look.' To face my chastisement and repent by the Book..Then I was shocked it was all turned
Around He had flooded out the fires people
Were heading for higher ground,
All Praise throughout the heavens all thanks to my friends..Who with me had enjoined..And we saw Himself His Name defend.'
The cruise ship charged
Whistleless at my sail boat
In a narrow channel
Between Islands
Of The Salish Sea.
I was powerless with sails up
Tacking against a current
Knotted against me.
The water boiled.
I recoiled
In dread
I could see them
Cosmetic lazy travellers
Lounging unconcerned
Tending to their looks
As the mass
Of their moving Carnival
Careened
At my destruction.
Two glaucous winged seagulls
Preening feathers were
Unconcerned
As the submerging emerging hulking
Tree trunk and roots
Surged at me
For some reason
I really like to drive,
and ever since I was sixteen,
when I get behind the wheel
feel free and alive...
Only once had an accident
when I was seventeen,
pulling out too fast of the driveway,
into my parents car I careened,
thank God it was minor damage
and my Dad was able to pop
the dent out with a hammer,
got a stern look and talking to
but kept me out of the slammer,
Have driven some Dodges and Chevy
cars in the past, but lately drive
a Ford Focus because its
much better on the gas...
Have driven in about all of the
states on the east coast,
and when I go once a year
to visit some family
its destination L.I., New York,
Out west have driven through
Texas, Oklahoma, Arizona
and even California,
reason being my husband
back then went to a school
called UTI in Phoenix, Arizona...
Probably the most traveled
interstate in the east being I-75 and I-24,
which is one of the biggest
trucking routes that I know of by far,
and I truly admire truck drivers
driving their 18 wheelers
up and down the highways and interstates,
they just scare me a bit
when they get too close,
driving as if my car was
truck driver bait...
I even thought once about
becoming a truck driver
but that was a fleeting idea
that lost most of its appeal,
because the more I thought of it
wouldn't really like that career,
especially since they're all
probably pretty heavy from
constantly being behind the wheel,
and when I stop at those truck stops
I can't help but notice,
that the truck drivers not only
buy toothpaste for their teeth,
but also preparation H
for their hemorrhoids...
My son and I just came home
from Chattanooga, Tenn.,
and thank God we both
arrived home safely and in one piece,
because even though I love to drive
can't understand why people
fly by me doing 80 like in an emergency,
unless someone in the car
has to use a restroom or
is about to deliver a baby...
and lately when I drive
around Moccasin Bend
feel a little more on edge
and on the offensive,
because its like driving on the autobahn
or being in the Indy 500!
Remember, don't text and drive because you want to arrive alive…:)
P.S. Happy 60th Birthday Interstate System!
The blessing of words and melody to dance
For the study of knowledge in the widest sense
From the Greek ancient lies philosophy
With a human’s true love, wisdom and self-mastery
The trusted empowered with beliefs revealed through
The respect and salutes from the knowledge to continue
The natural dialect through the triumphs poured, in general,
With the judgment for study, time stood without apparel
The light of ideas intoxicated the mind
Love languages were seen but now blind
The recent blessings are only lost lessons
But the flattery of time is nothing without history's essence
The wisdom of the ancient, lost in times, cried
The virtue of intellect’s pride died
The punishment received by the unborn
Was crystallized by the living in scorn
As acts cast in stone without rebuke
Where the shameful pages of the Living Book
In which illumination seemingly to dwindle at the source
That is when the darkness smiled without remorse
The enlightened were not bred anymore
They were refined in the ray of hope they saw
Changing life into their own prospect
Intellects now were left without respect
Compassion was the order of the day
That is how they lost how to pray
Without advice, they had to sacrifice
At that price blood would only suffice
In order for deeds were to be redeemed
The beauty of human goodness was creamed
A sight of goodness careened & crashed
The first war of good versus evil clashed
Man asked for something great from the Almighty
But he chose to punish them with un-repayable mercy
Due to the debts of their spiritual bankruptcy
A pure soul was payment for the morally guilty
This is the knowledge radiated through many relations
In hope to inspire provocative revelations
That no matter what conclusions, assumption or judgments
In this borrowed time we live in, our souls will be payment
Shards of silver spliced the sky
while my sister went to gather
laundry fluttering on the line
between two swaying Aspens.
But the fierce southeasterly
proved too much
for one of the colossal pair
old and pock-marked, it slowly careened
then toppled the length of the yard.
Sensing the fall, my father screamed
her name into the broken sky
until he found her under the arbour
storm clouds in her eyes.
For many days after I rode my tricycle
round the shaft of that body bruised
a mark of exclamation on
the story writing inward
as my father, with his chainsaw drawn,
cut wood for many winters.
The old jalopy feels unloved and unwanted.
Many years now she has languished
in this long-abandoned junkyard.
Unhinged, she is an utter wreck.
She had been kept for her "parts" but now, not even for that!
Very rarely, a young boy wanders by.
He sits inside her frame, pretending to be her driver.
But nobody can take the place of her Johnny.
All these years rusting away, dreaming of her yesterdays,
she recalls the cocky handsome lad named Johnny
with the slicked back hair and foot heavy on her pedal-
the one who belted out "Great Balls of Fire"
or his favorite,"Johnny B. Goode," which played on the radio
as he careened with her down the back country roads.
How sweet his voice became when he crooned "Love Me Tender."
There is no more love for the old jalopy now.
Something new has happened recently.
Large machines have been making a horrible racket.
Today they approach her area of the old junk yard.
Soon the shell of her - like her soul - will be totally demolished.
July 25, 2019 for John Hamilton's the 'NA rerun-2' Poetry Contest
N/A when judged 7/27/19 in The Old Jalopy Contest
(if you mean, our best of N/A's from only the year 2019, I would choose this one)
Recall a moment on Friday evening
waiting for the bus, I heard a loud bang
a car careened into a pole, debris
scattered, pedestrians stared, bewildered.
What happened? all inquired, much confusion.
various causes considered – drinking
likely, most supposed, the occupants still
inside, stunned, immobile, then one emerged –
unscathed, no injuries apparent.
Female occupant unstable, impaired
by drink or shock, indeterminate right then
the bus arrived at this juncture - this tale
incomplete – what happened next? – unknown cause.
And down our secret country lane
Two souls as one playfulness gleamed,
We laughed beneath the crisp of rain
A puppy affair we careened--
To relish the hours in a shade
In the gush of sleet's lullaby
With abandon feet in a wade
Reflecting young crush, hearts did sigh.
Sweet adventures so unrehearsed
Grew from fancy to deepened union;
Our couple - dates with fervor's thirst
Affirmed years of real communion.
Now, our eyes hold love, murmurs touch
Just like my past wedding bouquet
Within all times this life I clutch
As true love ripens every day .
When trials come as joy's surprise...
Both of us walk on godly air
Oh how a moment never dies
To celebrate all rains we share.
3/21/2017
For Eve Roper: Puppy love vs True love
She was innate with a light that not one could deny,
unending grin on her face and a twinkle in her eye.
A picturesque spirit, full of laughter and joy,
beloved, endearing - her shine could not be destroyed.
Though time had elapsed and the light, it did dim,
she refused to surrender or to be chagrined.
She careened every forward, through each tribulation
until encountering a demon of pure manipulation.
He latched on so tight she felt herself sink,
soon her demon controlled the very way she could think!
Her light swiftly vanished, the darkness moved in
she was no longer sweet, nor genuine.
The twinkle had ceased, her eyes grew black
the laughter was silenced, her soul had collapsed.
She lived day by day as a vacuous shell,
as nobody knew the sorrow that befell.
Until one eve, her demon at it's worst,
there was no turning back, she was fully immersed.
No longer the bright, joyful child she knew
she was dark, malevolent now, completely imbued.
No more could she quell or try to fight,
so she picked up the gun and shut off her own light.
Written: August 14, 2025, for Contest Sponsored by: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
*******
I writhed in the womb of a necrotic hush,
a stygian silence where barghests lurk—
My slack-jawed soul, sodden with oblivion lull,
clanged against the obelisk of despair.
The wound, a molten mouth of aurora,
sizzled with sacred suction—
a fipple of fire, ineffable and fecund,
where pestilence pirouetted with puissance.
I danced—yes, I danced—
in the desiccation of my demise,
a gavotte of soulfulness,
My blood is a rubicund aria of rapture.
Alabaster bones bore the torque of truth,
Each fracture is a triptych of ephemera and flame.
I was a poltergeist of my former self,
grappling through the noosphere multivocal maze.
The stench of bygone hexes clung to lava rock,
But I, stalwart and sinewed with mettle.
careened past the clamor of puerile pabulum,
past the gossamer glamor of grief.
I was broken—yes—
but bold enough to resuscitate,
to regale the necromancy of my rebirth,
to supplant sorrow with the sacred sizzle of self.
Now I stand, an empyrean echo,
a veridical vestige of velvet versatility—
my heart, a burnished niche of noble hope,
My spirit resembles a smooth, celestial sunset.
Let the world scrutinize my scars,
They are not grotesque—they are garrulous.
They speak in tongues of alchemy and amaranthine ache,
a quixotic quiddity, a quintessence of comeback.
As the bus rode
through the molting pine forest and
the crumbling ochre rock formations;
bits of colorful cellophane litter brought the only relief to the eye.
Inside, behind a profusion of people,
boxes, backpacks and assorted baggage
babies slept.
The bus creaked, shook and groaned
its way down the serpentine,
asphalt, mountain track.
Passengers chattered away in Indian, Nepalese, Danish and English,
abrasively punctuating
a Universal discourse;
As the vehicle draped from roof to bumper,
careened from rock walls
to sheer ledges, beeping.
Stray pets and wayward cyclist dodged its downward flight
Into the valleys maw.