Best Careening Poems
I followed one day a spring breeze at play.
It seemed not to know where to go.
And aimlessly, I - like a butterfly -
meandered with it to and fro.
Among bright blue bells, it tired a spell.
Recovering, it picked up speed.
Alongside a rill, I ran with a thrill
just to know where the breeze might lead.
My heart filled with song as I danced along,
careening through meadows of green.
And then the breeze dove into a large grove,
the loveliest I’d ever seen.
No longer a breeze, it whipped around trees.
It whistled while beckoning me,
and as it passed through where tall redwoods grew,
I was following, wild and free.
In that beautiful place, it changed its pace
and got stronger, for the breeze goes
where sturdy trees thrive. I felt so alive!
I have been to where the wind blows.
Categories:
careening, wind,
Form:
Quatrain
Written: October 05, 2023
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Words are just darts thrown toward meaning.
In a linguistic dance, they find their gleaming
With every utterance, their aim takes flight.
Seeking understanding, conquering the night
But with atrocity on their hands, they agreed,
Words have the power to induce hearts to bleed.
Each syllable is a weapon, sharp and true.
Words can build bridges or tear them in two.
In this world of language, where battles are fought,
Words hold the key to the lessons we're taught.
They can heal wounds or inflict eminent pain.
They can inspire love or drive us insane.
Yet, words are just darts thrown toward meaning.
Often missing their mark, often careening.
Can be twisted, misunderstood, lost in translation,
Landing in hearts with a different vibration.
But still, we wield them, hoping to convey
The depths of our thoughts, the emotions at play
We string them together, akin to pearls on a thread.
Crafting stories, poems, and songs to be said
Words are our canvas, our palette, our brush,
Painting pictures of joy, sorrow, and hush.
They can capture a moment, freeze it in time,
Or transport us to places, worlds so sublime.
Categories:
careening, analogy, appreciation, character, community,
Form:
Rhyme
Listen to the subtle sounds
that surround Mother Nature.
Hear a bubbling brook chuckle
as it gurgles over rocks.
Hear the drone of hummingbirds
or the songs of humpback whales.
And the sonic squeaks and clicks
exchanged by chatty dolphins.
Hear a cicada compete
with the chirp of a cricket.
And the wailing winds whistle
within the weeping willows.
Hear the laughter of water
careening off canyon walls.
And to hear the voice of God;
you merely need to listen.
Categories:
careening, beauty, feelings, inspirational, nature,
Form:
Blank verse
While I gaze in your eyes, cool cerulean blue,
Sifting night, straining stars through morning’s sweet dew,
I can fathom the depths of empyreal skies,
Angels fluttering by, riding wild butterflies
While I gaze in your eyes, changing, aqua-blue greening,
I’m sucked into chasms, cascading, careening,
And yield to enticements which meekly disarm,
Seeping virtuous beauty, sad sensuous charm
While I gaze in your eyes, bleeding fiery blue
Ever tempting with treasures, with pleasures for two,
Being caught at the core of a blazing sapphire
Possessing, enthralling, aflame with desire
While I gaze in your eyes, misty emeralds, deep green,
Veiling laughter and banter, and echoes between,
Then I dream, so it seems, in whatever the place,
Of your scent, of your breath, of your radiant face
While I gaze in your eyes, at times placidly blue,
Near’ as calm as the weirs in the woods all bedewed,
Forty winks relegate to a shimmering lake,
Gently floating on lilies, while waiting to wake
While I gaze in your eyes, caught engulfed in the greens
And consigning my fate unto verdant ravines,
My reactions, at length, become shyer and shyer
Reminiscent of ravens at risk in the briar
While I gaze in your eyes, restless, hesitant blues
Overwhelming sensations with turbulent hues,
I’m succumbing to waves of a storm battered sea,
Being cast like a plank, never meant to be free
While I gaze in your eyes, shadowed, Midnight Lake green
Glowing hazy with dreams, misty thoughts so serene,
Sudden silence befalls me, a fast sinking stone,
Looming lost in your eyes, I am never alone
While I gaze in your eyes, saddened, lachrymal blue,
Spilling trickles of rain, pearls obscuring your view,
I’ll attend to your anguish and feelings morose,
Lightly kissing your tears, touching, holding you close
While I gaze in your eyes, pulsing infinite green
Of the earth and of heaven and all in between,
It is simple to see that my hands can hold all
Of the treasures I find which so humbly enthral
While I gaze in your eyes, when they’re bountifully blue,
I’m reminded, love’s lightning is granted to few...
While I gaze in your eyes, when they’re blindingly green,
I’m reminded, love’s lightning cannot be foreseen...
Yet I hope... and I wait...
Categories:
careening, love,
Form:
Rhyme
Headed home from a business trip
Tired, spaced out, grouchy and impatient
Pushing the limit to beat rush hour traffic
Fast closing on an old jalopy van
Suddenly blue smoke and debris flying
The back tire must have bounced twenty feet up
My first thought, 'Stay STRAIGHT you bastard!'
Careening violently left, it flipped many times
(Several objects were ejected from the doors)
My next thought...'This is NOT my problem!'
'DAMN!' Slam on the brakes at the last second
Then it hit me. I was the first on the scene...
I would guess it took a full minute to cross over
Cars whizzing and blowing by in both lanes
Obviously it was not their problem either...
(Someone else has stopped, they'll handle it!
Besides, there's a game coming on tonight)
I waved my arms, shouting and pointing…
A woman was lying near the wreckage,
wailing in robotic, shock induced screams
Left arm beneath her back with her right arm
twisted at a bizarre and unnatural angle
One man was thrown at least twenty feet off
Ironically, he seemed the least injured
He kept trying to get up for some reason
I rushed over and asked him to stay down
"Okay, but the baby!...Where is the baby?"
(A baby, you mean there's a BABY??)
"Yes, our BABY...Please go find our baby!"
(Oh no dear God please, no, NO)
The median was a wide, steep-banked grassy ditch
The van was tilted slightly sideways on its roof
Legs rubbery and trembling, stomach churning,
sweat streaming and stinging blurry eyes,
I staggered over to the wreckage, knelt down
and peered through the passenger side window
Empty… (Oh no dear God please, no, NO)
Stumbling around back and then alongside,
scanning the grass and then around front
I almost tripped over it. There he was
Maybe five feet from the bumper he sat upright
still tucked safely away in his baby seat
kicking and cooing, giggling and drooling,
obviously having a wonderful time
I collapsed to my knees, bowed my head down
and feverishly began to unbuckle him
but quickly thought better, fearing unseen injury
Instead, I took his head gently with both hands,
kissed his forehead and nuzzled against his neck
(Babies have that particular scent, you know)
I recall glancing upward to clear blue skies,
muttering and mumbling incoherent thanks...
Categories:
careening, car, travel,
Form:
Narrative
Wings flutter
off in the distance
as I shuffle through these stones,
tasting the energy trapped in each,
scouring my lands
for my lost crystal,
that which can mend
what I’ve torn asunder.
In frustration
I abandon my quest,
deciding to find
my feathery deity,
the wind carries her scent to me
and I head Northeast,
diving through brush
and dodging trees
like only a Lycan may.
She must have picked up on my intentions
for I sense her
heading towards me
so I veer more northward,
there’s a place I know.
As I draw near
you can hear water
cascading off rocks,
when I arrive the moon is up,
clouds curled beneath it
as if it were a white pearl
resting on gray cushions,
to the right
the beginnings of a river
being fed by the waterfall,
about 80’ tall
careening off the three
stone outcroppings
and filling the air in the clearing
with a fine mist,
the left is ringed
by long needled pines
which have supplied the ground
with a soft cushion.
My winged beauty
lands on the third outcropping
whipping her hair back
under the waterfall’s edge.
I sprint to the water’s shore
and leap to the first,
as my claws connect
bound to the second,
paws touching
then legs thrust me
to the third
where I bring myself erect,
better to ensnare my love
within my arms.
As I bring her close to me
she raises her left hand up
and caresses my muzzle and cheek
with her claws,
I bend downward
and gently
sink my teeth
into the side of her neck,
she springs off the precipice ,
me entwined,
and glides down to the pine needle bed.
As we land
she pushes herself up,
drags her right claw
down my chest
and leans in to drink.
I drag one nail along
each shoulder blade
and let her blood
drip down on me
while I lick my claws clean.
After hours
she crashes down
into my chest,
exhaustion settling in.
I cup my hand around the back of her head,
hair entwined
in my fingers
and as she uses her wings
to blanket us
we drift off
into a pleasant slumber
while the stars blink at us
and the night creatures
serenade us with their calls.
Categories:
careening, imagination, nature, passionhair, me,
Form:
Romanticism
One day, not long ago, I was careening
like a kite on the winds of happiness
twirling through spaces of days that shone through all dark clouds.
Muddy puddles were beneath me, but they were far beneath.
My Sunshiny days evaporated the puddles,
yet always mud remains,
and from the mud a shadow form took shape.
It never seems to fail. . .
I’ll have almost reached the summit of my bliss,
a loopy kite somersaulting through blue sky
when by and by. .. the shadow form I’ve managed to pretend
I do not see has risen from the mud, awaiting me.
Bad luck, like a thunder clap, attacked my happy sky.
Joy’s buoyancy lost its grip on me. I slipped
plunging to the frigid ground -
again to be in disappointment’s shadow.
Written 10/6/2015 By Andrea Dietrich
For the Dancing with Description Poetry Contest of Casarah Nance
Categories:
careening, emotions,
Form:
Free verse
His hand is strafing the castellation on his trumpet, the valves moving up down up down like deranged pistons under the random machine gun fire of his fingers. Each note is a projectile that concusses the air, chases the one before it, nudges it from behind, bleeds into it, and is itself tailgated by the next one, all the way down the line in unrelenting succession, until all the distinct notes fuse, compacted into a single, furious, careening soundscape that leaves the ear always half a beat behind, struggling to catch up, out of breath, high on an overdose of heard adrenalin.
sounds supersonic
air graffitied with contrails of soaring notes
solo flight
Still they come, the notes, jostling and pouring from the bell of the trumpet glinting in the small cone of spotlight, the man’s puffed cheeks like a magician’s hat from which all kinds of disparate, crazy things - playing cards, rabbits, ribbons, doves - appear and instantly cohere into a hyperventilating sonic dream. You’re caught off guard by every note: you never heard it coming, then you hear it, and you’re snatched by it and all its brethren, and carried into the kinetic night.
ears beguiled
vibrations collide, collude, segue
harmony
Categories:
careening, appreciation, art, imagery, inspiration,
Form:
Haibun
Some
orange-
bellied birds,
fork-tailed and dark
shiny-winged, have made
their home on or near the
rooftop of our house. Swiftly,
smoothly wheeling and careening,
bird-whooping to each other; freely,
happily they glide. . . comrades of the sky.
July 24, 2016 For the Etheree Contest of Kim Merryman
Note: If anyone knows what kind of bird this might be, could you let me know? I have gone online to find out and can't seem to figure it out!
Categories:
careening, bird,
Form:
Etheree
His monkey-fascination made him own a “monkeyrium”
There, monkeys and cousin apes in their gladdening crusade freely reign
Unlike the sea creatures in the imprisoning aquarium
The funny troops have liberty in their haven’s domain.
Those monkeys, midst animated cartoon characters, are my son’s delight
Their cheerful quirks, especially that of Chimpanzee Charlie, won his heart
How they perk him up with their mirth-oozing sight
Along their varied careening turns and twists of witty art.
Caring monkeys caught first his curiosity in the creation story
Then they amused him as musicians in Noah’s floating zoo
Now, their charm’s presence is felt in my son’s territory
As they showcase their loving ways like humans do.
Yes, the monkeys are pulling my son’s faith-string of glad disposition
Pushing him to stride during his therapy sessions midst his disability
Prodding his spirit to get up with glee for his prayer position
Prompting him to sing… even amidst obvious difficulty.
My special child’s “monkeyrium” is his wondrous paradise
With monkey-ape-stuffed toys he plays with, and can dearly hold
Thru them, I thank and praise the Lord Who’s good and so wise*
For granting my blessed boy great privileges he can enjoy and behold!
*Jude 1:25 To the only wise God our Saviour, be glory and majesty, dominion and power, both now and ever. Amen.
First posted on May 21, 2018
Edited on November 26 incorporating the following words: Charlie, Cartoon, Characters, Curiosity, Careening And Crusade
2nd place, "Charlie's Cartoon Characters Curiously Careen And Crusade Poetry Contest"
Sponsored by Caren Krutsinger; judged on December 16, 2018.
Categories:
careening, blessing, boy, child, god,
Form:
Rhyme
Racist checkers-ego fueled.
Back and forth they go.
Jump me once I'll jump you twice.
Careening toward the darkest back row.
Nothing left but two lonely pieces.
Forever frozen in opposite corners.
Staring over a checkered past.
Over a field of a burned-out dream.
Categories:
careening, racism, war,
Form:
Free verse
CHARLIE'S CARTOON CHARACTERS
Once upon a time, long, long ago, in a far away land, in the land where Charlie lived, there was a group of cartoon characters who felt as though they were the greatest thing to come along since sliced bread was put on the market. They were truly a curious bunch of characters who could be seen on any given day careening down the thoroughfare on their coveted tricycles causing people to scatter for fear of being crushed by these cavorting crazies who carelessly chose to clutter up the sidewalkway and the crosswalk while practically choking with laughter.
From the other side of town, there came a handsome, muscled up soon to be champion of the people because he had come to clean up this careening group of cartoon characters and put Charlie in his place. This champion's name was Clint, as in Eastwood, but even more impressive. He came into town on his cherished red, white, and blue skateboard. Clint was on a crusade. Yes, he was certainly charismatic and rather charming with his crooked little curved lip smile and the cheroot cigar clamped tightly between his crystalline teeth. Well, his very appearance was enough to convince Charlie and his gang of cohorts to seek a change of scenery and move to an entirely different city. Clint never even had to get off of his skateboard except to convince a certain little campus cutie that he was to become her cherished companion and settle down in a clean little cabin on the corner of Clint Avenue and Colleen Boulevard. Yes, that is what the town folks named that location. Oh, by the way, I forgot to mention that the little campus cutie was named Colleen. She and Clint are the proud parents of Curtis, Catherine, Constance, and two classy little girls named Jan and Andrea. They all live happily in Cunningham, Colorado. Cunningham is a little place named after a poet, Tom Cunningham. Tom and another noted poet named Bob Hinshaw help Clint maintain law and order as they sit around thinking up stuff to write for folks to read when they don't have anything better to do.
13 November 2018
For the contest sponsored by Caren Krutsinger
Categories:
careening, character, children, funny, marriage,
Form:
Free verse
Another bash
Careening dancers emerge
Frenzied
Gyrating haplessly into jigs
kilts lifting
Maurice nods
Ormond poised queerly
Rocking
stretching
Tim under vintage wiles
Xavier yawning zzs.
Categories:
careening, life,
Form:
ABC
I lured a fragile daisy into my palm.
She thought it was safe, a place of calm.
Slowly I squeezed until it bled,
until there was nothing left
but the stain of Karmic dread.
Next came a wild rose, attracted by my dying scent.
The more I squeezed (it) the more I bled.
I shook my hand, but it stubbornly stayed.
Laughing as I twirled, bleeding down the drain.
Then came a blizzard of brambles.
Careening down from black moon mountain.
Pocking every cell of silver sanity.
Until my wings no longer breathed.
So today I waltz alone, approaching the end.
A fifty-six-leaf clover of hard-earned regrets.
Then entered this mighty viper.
Casually kissing a string of karmic rubies
around this selfish iron neck.
Categories:
careening, life,
Form:
Free verse
(Inspired by lyrics of Bonamassa's "Woke Up Dreaming")
Sometimes life can be very hard.
My dog died. Worse though,
my sweetie’s not around.
Feeling so morose;
feeling so forlorn.
Where’s that good fortune
I thought I once had found?
Is this world our reality?
Folk’s going crazy.
A nightmare more it seems.
Politicians lying;
sad people crying.
Are we still alive
or just living bad dreams?
I pinch myself and sometimes I think
maybe we even
pinch ourselves in dreams.
Life hurts. Dreams hurt.
My health’s worth dirt.
Folks going crazy.
A nightmare it all seems.
Dog’s doggone; wish he never died.
Miss my sweetie so.
In my heart’s a giant ache.
The world is careening.
Somewhere someone’s screaming.
Are we all dreaming?
Am I even awake?
The world is careening.
Somewhere someone’s screaming.
Are we all dreaming?
Am I even awake?
May 20, 2023 For the 'Smokin Joe Bonamassa Inspiration' Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Robert James Liguori
Categories:
careening, blue,
Form:
Lyric