Best Chiseling Poems
As I
Soak in hummingbird’s exhale
I feel tragic sonatas
Trying to chain
Trying to crucify
My sedentary grip on instability
I smell the repugnant commoner
Blasting scattered shots
Against yesterday’s decent
I became the handsome error again.
The godfather of uplifting idle minds
Sedated within the bosoms of complacency
Because, indirectly, I was the inebriated screw-up
Immunized with community pride
As 420’d lyricists
Puff corrugated burns
To keep their spine
Fused in relatable,
Flaccid significance
They dodge flagrant accountability
Like an intentional cripple
And I
Slow dance with agnostic prayer
There would be no commandments
To remind me
That I am still beautiful inside
Beautifully flawed.
Beautifully demonized.
Beautifully improper.
Ugly.
Yet, Gaia’s sun empowers this stanza
To breathe better breaths
To see what refuses to be seen
And no longer accept what cannot be changed
I carve milestones upon gravestones
In friends’ memoriam, nevermore
It felt peacefully redundant to be important,
Chiseling away the vowels of animosity
Attempts to hold my hands
Within this ambidextrous nightmare
Right hand, red
Left hand, chained
Courteous disdain
For developing minds,
Their figure of speech
Meant no blissful harm
With their 40 lashes
Conjured by judgmental testaments
Oh, how they preach for better tomorrows
While stirring yesterday’s pot
Becoming the “end” in “friend”...
©D.J.E.
Categories:
chiseling, forgiveness, friendship, leaving, life,
Form:
Free verse
7/9/20
"Sickening"
This is sickening
And quickening
Not at all, what I was envisioning
Nobody listening
Most chickening
Fidgeting
And limiting
Themselves to the point of being crippling
The effects rippling
And tripling
On top of it, we've got social distancing
Still dribbling
I've been chiseling
And scribbling
No matter what has been incoming
Pivoting
And occasionally grimacing
The temperature freezing, cold, mild or sizzling
The weather icy, windy, calm, scorching or drizzling
Clowns continue giggling
Petty people are still belittling
Over every little thing
Not all that riveting
It's becoming uninteresting
Sometimes I sip, sometimes I swig
Sometimes I flip the script
Even though sometimes it's rigged
Before opportunities are shriveling
And dwindling
Got to get it quickly
And differently
Meanwhile all senses are tingling
Categories:
chiseling, dark, deep, poetry, rap,
Form:
Rhyme
Let me stand where the artist once stood,
And see through this mist in my eyes
What the artist once saw, though the paint is now cracked;
Where the artist once stood.
Let me breathe where the poet once breathed
That same air, which she painted with words,
In a swirl, never static, now swirling no more;
Where the poet once breathed.
Let me sit where the tunesmith once sat,
Chiseling song from the faces gone by.
Bring back all those faces that truth may return;
Where the tunesmith once sat.
Let me kneel where the gardener kneeled,
Inhale that aroma of roses in bloom,
Caressing their petals as soft as her face;
Where the gardener kneeled.
Let me walk where my lover once walked,
And know beyond doubt’s reckless grief,
Though abridged were her days, I may find love again;
Where my lover once walked,
Where my lover once walked.
Categories:
chiseling, art, longing, lost love,
Form:
Verse
On the fateful day before Halloween
Dressed as a vampire queen in green
I passed through the graveyard
With all my senses on guard
When I heard a rustling mean
In horror I turned around to see
Who had the audacity to scare me
Saw an old man bending low
Chiseling his name in a row
Looked to be a veteran escapee
I told him not to disturb the grave
When he started to turn and rave
His family didn’t spell him right
And he with his might
Had come out his name to engrave
Categories:
chiseling, funny
Form:
Limerick
Been so broken down, baby
Isolated, shuttered,
Dilipidated; in disrepair
Been so sad and empty
Before you, I didn't wanna care
I had lost all hope and drive
To continue even trying
Void of volition
Drifting from day to day
With no desire - no ambition
All that's changed now, sugar
Cos from out of nowhere, you've finally arrived
To prove you're not going anywhere.
Your kindness and concern for my welfare
Soothe my tired soul
And rejuvenate
My sullen spirit
Thank you endlessly
For patiently and relentlessly
Chiseling and chipping away
At my recalcitrant heart
Gone are the days of
Thinking my lot in life won't improve
You have resurrected my desire to love
You're my richest, sweetest treasure
Boon to my existence
You must be
Heaven sent
You're a little late, my honey,
But that's OK, my angel,
Your untimely arrival
Is a much-needed surprise.
You're a blessing to my well-being
My game-changer; my lifesaver
Before I was bitter, sour - on my own
I'm savoring your hugs and kisses
What we have is priceless
You've rekindled my inner glow
Promise me, baby, we'll work together to retain what we have found
So that we shall never wither away
Impenetrable and tightly woven
Together, as one, we will grow stronger.
Categories:
chiseling, angel, blessing, for him,
Form:
Ballad
A tense mind, forsaking abilities
Days passed can not be recovered
The suffering brought upon, by choice
Fear arisen at the thought of the inevitable
I scorn at my sight; their pride, mistaken.
Excuses granting an escape, to relinquish
Forces I seek, to deny that which could have been
Regret masked, by an expression unseen
A promise to change, unmet by time's progress
Lies spoken; their trust, misplaced.
A resolve is thought, a distraction is discovered
A minute becomes an hour, an hour, a day
The effort becomes insuperable - the load does burden
To find others, does alleviate
A sleepless night, my own cause; perseverance, they presume.
An unsteady hand, prepares notes anew
Legibility is minimal, as panic progresses
Absorption is improbable - an attempt at redemption, in vain
Expletives remembered, relevant now
A head that aches; difficulty, they concede.
Eyes wake, pleading for rest
A disheveled appearance, hides no worry
The many lines crammed, indistinguishable
A dire situation, chiseling a cheat
Failure admitted; their forgiveness, undeserving.
Categories:
chiseling, angst, conflict, feelings, high
Form:
Once more without sleep
all dreams exhausted
Neurotransmitters on high alert
rekindling furious flames
that lap hungrily through mid-back to feet
Like a chippy chiseling wood on the lathe
I splinter and crack - screaming for regression
Just as a computer malfunctioning
I await time for reboot of my system
brief medical intervention -
some respite peace and solace
that in the whole of life
taken as one performance of the arts
it is but a musical interlude
short-lived in high anticipation of entr'acte
Terms used:-
chippy - a carpenter
solace - relief from emotional distress/source of comfort at a time
of sadness, grief or disappointment
interlude - short period of transition/break
entr'acte - between the acts
Categories:
chiseling, analogy, angst, body, health,
Form:
Free verse
Sudden as thunder they crack in the night,
the boys in the lane leap over fences,
bottles crashing into stone walls,
and bullets whistle with echoing sound.
Political war,
Tribal war,
Gang war.
The boys fight with one another for the release of "the Don"
they rampage in the little town,
and round up all the informers.
Night comes alive,
doors open wide,
then suddenly,
"Lord, someone shot Sammi Joe!"
Lights bang!
and everyone rushes to look at the innocent one
lying peacefully in her pool of blood.
"Sammi Joe is dead!"
Her frightened mother yells.
Gunshots cracking in the night,
smashing glass,
and chiseling walls,
the burning night heat,
people scatter in the street.
Mr. Crow pisses his pants when the boys spot him as the informer
Dragged in the streets,
Crow's face flushed with the wall,
bullets puncture his head.
Further down the road,
the innocents grip tightly to their beds,
trembling,
wondering who will be next.
Bullets dances around the walls,
wailing heightens,
The massacre begins.
Blood washes the street,
dead bodies blocking the gate of the little town.
©2013 Christine Phillips
Categories:
chiseling, confusion, death, fear,
Form:
Narrative
Under The Ducky Moon
The Winter had been Harsh, Harsher than Most. Now cabin fever had taken its toll.
I was beginning to act a little bit weird, but so were others I know.
Then suddenly the sun revealed itself, its warmth was beginning to show.
Ice began to melt from the chair in my back yard, and yes it tempted me so…
And then I snapped, its true, I know, with the melting of ice and snow.
With every single drip… drip… drip… my mind began to go…
I’d been stubborn and frozen to the core on many a winter’s day.
As I had stayed by the window, while I’d typed my poems away.
I had counted every icy day… toward those beautiful blessed Spring Rays…
Then one day the temperature went from 8 to 78, and that took my breath away…
I threw off the blankets that kept me warm and I danced…a lot I say!
No matter how crazy it looked… I’d enjoy the January thaw, making hay!
It’d soon be winter again, so I ran outside and chiseled the ice from that chair.
Then in defiance I sat there as my dog slid over sheets of ice with flare.
To our neighbors we must have looked crazy, like we didn’t have a clue.
But they quickly turned back, to chiseling ice from their driveways anew.
But my dog and I continued to stay disposed quite nice.
After all there was only 4 inches of deep blue ice.
Yep, I sat there and watched as water began streaming down the street so
precise…
I continued to sit there until I saw that the full moon had finally come out.
Then I began to wonder if perhaps we should beware of the nutty people running
about…
As if!!! I answered. The Full moon’s got nothing on cabin fever. No doubt!
I continued to watch until some ducks peacefully flew across the full moon that
night…
At that point, I knew my choice had been absolutely truly right…
For the cold would come back, and I’d always remember my choice…
This day would Forever be the day, when the Ducky Moon brought this story to
voice.
Categories:
chiseling, fantasy, funny, happiness, holiday,
Form:
Rhyme
Dark clouds loom beyond battered mountains,
cracking sounds seep through broken walls
and murmuring voices echo near and far.
We did not know where to begin,
but I had a strong feeling that we would win.
We leaped through block doors,
trampling on broken glasses,
tearing down make shift barricades,
busting wires fences,
bulldozing fortified doors,
and chiseling sealed up walls.
Our stricken faces dented with anguish,
broken voices crackle with fear,
spilling unbridled emotions in the atmosphere.
Smoldering petrol engulfed the air
charring corruption,
cleansing hearts,
purifying souls,
while tears of joy flow without control.
We journey through dark tunnels,
broken bridges and rocky mountains,
cutting and clearing the bushy path,
until we finally made the mark.
One chance, one dip
we broke the glass ceiling with a mystical pick.
©2013 Christine Phillips
Categories:
chiseling, freedom, political,
Form:
Free verse
White America is uncomfortable with moving forward,
they want their future to go back to the past
“Make America Great Again!”
A brand chiseling,
cave wall jingo retail sale slogan
Snowflakes wanna hear the retro frost sound
of Viking cold chains rattling
When naked oppression was Dixie singing
That kind of Babel Tower progress, I ain’t feeling it;
them good ol’ boy days,
when America was great ...
My skin kin was moaning and screaming
They were auction sold:
Crying and wailing ... families split asunder weeping
Now, many golden amber hearts
wanna go back to that dreadful time
The Jim Crow chorus of assimilation animus
caw with shade malice lip hate crime
And not to mention,
the wage money that was free labor stolen —
Pyramid scheme abolition
Seems America was really great at emancipated slave trade:
Pharaoh prison conditions
Ivory House tombstone bellows
are foaming more divisive temporal waves
Remember the recent weepy, minstrel Happy Days,
when forced segregation was the legal rave ...
befo’ that supreme peace fellow,
nappy Harriet gave a Thurgood gavel save
But, I ain’t feeling
that rainbow kind of righteous vibe anymore
My grandfather clock is tick-tock moving backwards,
heading for the slave quarters entrance door
I suppose, it’s a great Confederate Prussian dishonor,
not to wanna rebel blue revel in the past
Especially, when you gotta red flag the fake hosannas,
that old timey white noise on bugle blast
Glaucoma grey vision
shows it’s great to be blind again
Lassie Lady Liberty limp trots leer comfortable ...
walking with a pale bigotry Cain
is a guide dog decision
America’s choice —
they picked the lewd runt of the litter
Little horn voice
blowing trumped up memories bitter
Categories:
chiseling, discrimination, fear, history, truth,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
Catching a star, rushing forward the frigate,
Through the storm ahead, the bowsprit of his high,
But ahead all the same abyss without borders,
The desert of black waters in silence of latitudes.
Cracks and groans bom-topgallant topmast,
Chiseling strong ezelgof,
Mars and Ray converged with parrel in battle,
With a dream - to get rid of the shackles.
The wave growls, rolling terribly,
And with the power of the wind jib-boom mast on the beats,
And a low, menacing sound of the cello,
It is suddenly heard from the blackening heights,
That drill groans together with a heavy wind,
The key of the forgotten Symphony are trying to find,
And torn violin strings - moaning times through the centuries,
And killed the brave men among depths.
The thunder storm is rushing with noise, howling,
Shaking stars in heavens,
And the thunder echoes it a disparate,
And the frigate is hurtling on the sails.
Categories:
chiseling, adventure, death, destiny, stars,
Form:
Heroic Couplet
Non descript hedge rows sculpted into ornamental animal
via botanical artist wielding pruning shears and chain saw
carved, limned and sculpted with wrist wrought voila uber
prestidigitatiously head turning botanical picturesque Sun
kist animals at an exhibition transformed miraculously via
Te Deum divine fist bumping, whence realistic fauna burst
alive with an explosion of colorful twist and shout of foliage,
where scalloped superfluous detritus manna for naturalist
deciduous detritus capacious carpet boar animation punk
chew waiting groundswell Liszt ghost would arise from the
grave to produce magnum opus without a beat missed such
shrubbery mimicking the likeness sans glistening fleshy sin
yew, and gist about ready to become bone a fide (green be
hind the ears) thriving vox populist, per species and genus
wrought thrashing into birth as delicate craftsman promised
to imbue life, liberty and pursuit of happiness whittling away
leavings, thus did exist the nascent then omnipresent visible
entity emerging from cocoon an herbalist metamorphosed
from the imagination of a skilled, practiced and mentalist
conniver viz extracting the initially obscure blessed beast,
where with august magic wielding tools of this specialty vis
a vis bringing breathing manifest destiny ala Pinocchio (trans
formed from wood to flesh), whereby finest dexterous
chiseling blistering hands baffle onlookers as coterie of
topiary harvest breaths mind bogglingly astoundingly
authentic rooted ready to frolic in the grass menagerie
a gamesome group of linkedin live progeny, the Michel
Angelo of dirtiest canvass, an earthen tabula rasa of sorts
where application threshing re: electric cool laid ahs hid
test brings out chlorophyll doppelganger green hued key luster.
Categories:
chiseling, appreciation, art, beauty, creation,
Form:
Tremendous vastness of Grand Canyon,
the earth drops away in escalation
reveling rims of canyon elevations.
River is slicing rocks
exposing chasm of gorges.
Chiseled by water
vertical walls of rocks
are descending into abysses.
Canyon rims of mountains chasm,
eroding and falling down
in sediment and loose rocks.
Sedimentary rock layers,
walls of rocks towering at the banks of the river
wonder of nature –
Earth abruptly is dropping away,
forming different life zones.
Raging river is washing away
rocks in colorful sediments.
Dotting, splashing and bouncing
is water cascading in ribbons
reflecting sun light
through the beauty of enchanting might.
In the chasm of valleys and gorges
only river and rocks,
water is cascading,
without a trail on the river banks,
bellow meandering
with sediments and minerals
Sand petrified
and sculpted by
chiseling river –
colorful sedimentary rocks,
containing iron, copper,
shining crystals and minerals.
Grand Canyon –
crowning mountains,
cathedrals of nature –
changing colors
with sun light passing -
astonishing, scenic wonder.
Categories:
chiseling, nature,
Form:
Verse
The best artists are outlaws
Vandalizing our sanctity,
Our sanctimonious freight trains,
Our parsimonious neglect.
The best artists are culprits
Chiseling our school desks,
Scraping our bathroom stalls,
Doodling our notebooks.
Graffiti spray paints the struggle,
Scribbling defaces the pretense,
Defilement arrests the complacent,
Disfigurement sullies the platitude.
Defacers embody the dialectic,
The opposition to conformity,
The betrayal of uniformity,
The rebellion against authority.
The best artists are pariahs,
Trashing our temples,
Tossing out our moneychangers,
Driving out our shysters.
Categories:
chiseling, allusion, art, bible, extended
Form:
Didactic