Best Clammed Poems
PAS MUET
I am a puppy here
The smallest
The skinniest
The silentest (is that even a word)
Stotteraar
Bègue
I wheel my wheels among them
The alpha dogs
The loud ones
I am silent
Bègue
My eyes are open wide
I watch them
Follow their every move
My mouth clammed shut
Bègue
My hands write nervously
On my notepad
With my pencil
My words arranged in neat sentences
Bègue
He understands though
He smiles with fun, no pity there
We go way back
He is my psychiatrist.
Bègue
In silence I contemplate
But silent I am not
My words are multi coloured
I like them
Niet stom
Not mute
Pas muet.
Pas muet.
***
December 30, 2016
Categories:
clammed, depression, i am, mental
Form:
Free verse
...inspiration from 'Preludes' by T.S. Eliot
Loose leaves rustle.
The grey light of evening dips and sways.
Evening birds bleat
their lonely tattoo.
Gone are the jays and the wagtails,
the burnt-out end of smoky days.
No fancy gadgets,
just a jar of pencils newly cut.
The clatter
of a typewriter
haunts the silence, like a 'pecker
jonesin' for nutrition, finding squat.
Curtains flutter.
She's shabbily dressed and thin.
A lonely candle sputters
and she struggles.
Notes and erasers jostle for space,
still no inspiration will brighten her face.
Coffee and cigarettes,
vodka and tears, and none will curb her fears
of ever grasping
white from black,
light from limbo, the curse of the damned,
the neverland that has her clammed.
One word, one spark
of enlightenment nudges her back.
Exhilaration wracks her,
electricity whacks her
like a sharp evening breeze,
and her fingers are dancing all over the keys!
Categories:
clammed, inspirationallonely,
Form:
Verse
The 'corporate suit' asked Elmer what his legacy might be
The grizzled man clammed up ~ He'd never had a moment free
Categories:
clammed, career, memorial, silence,
Form:
Couplet
I went to see the "Rolling Stones"- they rocked!
I had two tickets to see "Cher" in concert, I kept them both
A "Moody Blues" concert got cancelled, I heard they couldn't tolerate each other
Never did get to see the "Beatles" in concert, that really bugged me
I went to a "Rush" concert, it was over too fast
I went to see the "Eagles" they sounded a little bit like the "Byrds"
I went to see the "Doors" with a couple of swingers
I went to see "Led Zeppelin" and "Iron Butterfly" now that was heavy
I went to see "Cream" they milked the show
I went to see "Billy Idol" he's, my favorite!
I went to see "The Grateful Dead" they killed it!
I was going to see "Alice in Chains", but I heard she got locked up
I went to see "The Guess Who" eh, I'll tell you later.
I went to see the "Mamas and Papas" with my parents
I went to see the "Animals" they were wild
I went to see "The Cars" drove me crazy
I went to see "Blue Oyster Cult" I got all clammed up
I went to see "The Beach Boys" with my sister Sandy
Categories:
clammed, humor,
Form:
List
In the twilight, it seems to be so lonely, depressing and emotional. Thoughts seem to be forgotten and unsettle. My canton doesn't feel the same anymore. I arise with pain threw my entire bag of bones. The house , so clammed up. It doesn't utter or make harmony. I catch my mind, speaking so many words. Enough for me to write, on paper. Only coming out in puzzles. So I find myself sitting, gaping around. Praying I had a wellwisher. Someone to hold me tight, telling me everything is going to be alright. Someone to rub my head, putting me to sleep. A slumberland so gentle and sweet. Relaxing my thoughts. Easing my words, so I can lose this weight. This weight breaking my back!
Categories:
clammed, confusion, life, sad, me,
Form:
Free verse
Three minutes was all I had to speak to you today
I wonder, were my words enough for you to think of me
As you stare at your fire alone tonight in the cool moonlit glare
Do my words mean anything to you
Even in those times when I can not even be there
But what should I think?
Or are my thoughts even something that would even make you care?
Oh
That's right
I clammed up when I saw you
Beautifully standing there
So you wouldn't know what I feel
And its unfair for me think
That you should even care!
Good day
Categories:
clammed, beautiful, beauty, crush, feelings,
Form:
Free verse
MOONLIGHT SILHOUETTE
A guy on the dance floor,
I was impressed.
He came alone,
But left me speechless
But nevertheless.
He said Girl,
You look stunning in your
red RMV dress.
I felt awesome,
And I turned my head back
and said yes.
As he clammed up,
tripped the light fantastic
and guessed.
He held my hand and whispered
With his sexy, manly voice saying,
His name is Jess.
We danced
till the night had gone
deeper and sweeter as my soft,
fine, supple skin he caressed.
As he walked me home,
We kissed under the silhouette
of moonlight.
Oh, what a wonderful way to end,
The lovely NIGHT!
Written by: Rosey RMV
10/15/2017
Categories:
clammed, happiness, love,
Form:
Lyric
Glory be to God for dappled things!
Look, Mina, where the wanton wind
is chasing the cloud shadows
across the dale! They skip like hares!
Throw open both doors, front and back -
abandon care!
Let that breeze, with scent of thyme
on its breath, scour out
the must and dust of cramped,
crabby, clammed-up winter.
The spawn is on the glassy pond,
swifts are fizzing round San Giorgio's steeple,
and all the earth is on the move.
I love the music of the rivulet,
tinkling an aria as it prances down the vale,
scurrying from snow to wheat.
We'll scrub the floor
with clean stream-water,
paint the walls with nostril-stinging lime!
Bells are clanging in Arezzo far below,
strangers are smiling, waving
as they pass. The very dogs are laughing.
That storm, yonder? It's over Trasimeno,
sending its brass and double-basses
booming through the valley floor.
Don't fret, Mina! It's God's trumpet,
telling us to dance again,
to dress the vines!
Pull down the fat old cheese.
No matter - I feel reckless!
This morning, as I picked your violets
near Cennino, in the poplar copse,
I found these truffles. Smell!
Some cheese, a cup of wine -
the blood of other summers.
We'll go to Camposanto later.
The path will shine white in the fresh sun,
And we'll hold hands.
Even that gnarled old hawthorn
is in bud. Life, Mina, life itself -
don't you feel it, girl?
Categories:
clammed, seasons,
Form:
Free verse
Last night’s slumber found me in an evening, cloud forest;
a plethora of mosses covered the ground and I found myself walking on a palette of green hues as night’s curtain fell. Humidity clammed my skin with its touch; free body lotion. It feels like I’ve just stepped out of the shower, refreshed. In a water forest you cannot always hear what is behind you; I felt that familiar piercing of eyes when, someone or something is watching and turned to see an Olingo on a tree branch. He was beautiful and as our eyes locked, he stood frozen. I called him friend then thought about it again. I then told him not to befriend others of my kind; they would want to harm him. Strange, his high-pitched, voice in my head; “Thank you, you will be my one human friend; you are welcome here”. He turned, ran into the cloudy haze. My heart levitated from my chest with elation; I may have saved him and his friends from poachers.
In a cloud forest
varied species living life
majesty surrounds all.
Olingo, A small nocturnal mammal found in Central and South American areas. They resemble a Kinkajou only with a banded and non-prehensile tail.
Categories:
clammed, animal, image, imagery, imagination,
Form:
Haibun
...inspiration from 'Preludes' by T.S. Eliot
Loose leaves rustle.
The grey light of evening dips and sways.
Evening birds bleat their lonely tattoo.
Gone are the jays and the wagtails,
the burnt-out end of smoky days.
No fancy gadgets,
just a jar of pencils newly cut.
The clatter of a typewriter
haunts the silence, like a woodpecker
seeking nutrition, finding none.
Curtains flutter.
She's shabbily dressed and thin.
A lonely candle sputters and she struggles.
Notes and erasers jostle for space,
still no inspiration will brighten her face.
Coffee and cigarettes,
vodka and tears, and none will curb her fears
of ever grasping white from black,
light from limbo, the curse of the damned,
the never land that has her clammed.
One word, one spark
of enlightenment nudges her back.
Exhilaration wracks her, inspiration smacks her
like a sharp evening breeze,
and her fingers are dancing all over the keys!
Categories:
clammed, tribute, writing,
Form:
Verse
Just for a moment, open your mind to all possibilities. Whatever you dream, you can do and create. Then probabilities have opportunities, by which they can manifest.
When the radio was manifested, everyone believed such, was impossible. Phones, cars, indoor plumbing, computers and all we have today, was once considered impossible.
Belief is the catalyst, by which we initiate possibilities. Possibilities addressed with imagination, belief, and effort; give birth to realities; increasing probabilities give us hope that our dreams will manifest.
Skepticism has its place; it can keep you on the road to manifesting realities but, it’s too often abused; used to demean and degrade the dreamers. It prohibits their success in manifesting those probabilities which stalls progress.
The fool is the diehard skeptic; the clammed-shut mind. Those who believe; though some skepticism is allowed; are the real geniuses; courageous believers; thank God for them.
Each of us possesses the capacity to dream; when dreams provide ideas; open your mind, create and leave a part of yourself to this world.
Categories:
clammed, change, fate, future, how
Form:
Prose
...inspiration from 'Preludes' by T.S. Eliot
Loose leaves rustle.
The grey light of evening dips and sways.
Evening birds bleat
their lonely tattoo.
Gone are the jays and the wagtails,
the burnt-out end of smoky days.
No fancy gadgets,
just a jar of pencils newly sharpened.
The clatter
of a typewriter
haunts the silence, like a woodpecker
seeking for nutrition, finding little.
Curtains flutter.
She's shabbily dressed and thin.
A lonely candle sputters
and she struggles.
Notes and erasers jostle for space,
still no inspiration will brighten her face.
Coffee and cigarettes,
vodka and tears, and none will curb her fears
of ever grasping
white from black,
light from limbo, the curse of the damned,
the neverland that has her clammed.
One word, one spark
of enlightenment nudges her back.
Exhilaration wracks her,
electricity whacks her
like a sharp evening breeze,
and her fingers are dancing all over the keys!
Categories:
clammed, on writing and words,
Form:
Light Verse
Well how does it feel?
I was wrong and you were right.
You looked at me with delight but that didn't last too long.
You made up all these excuses.
You said it was your sister who answered my texts.
You made up an imaginary friend so I could look like a fool.
What am I to you again? Oh, that's right you never said!
My emotions have malfunctioned! What am I now a robot?!
You played with me, you laughed with me but what was it all for?
You never said a word about love and whenever the subject came up you just clammed up.
It was open for discussion but all you did was wait.
I did the same thing but only 'cause you met my eyes.
You never told me how you felt about us.
So I'm just gonna let it out, I love you no matter what.
Categories:
clammed, confusion, girlfriend-boyfriendme, love, me,
Form:
Lyric
There are so many ladies dressed so differently in the world.
Yet you want me to be a girl clammed up like a pearl.
But I will do it for you as long as you are my earl.
Categories:
clammed, clothes, culture, dedication, devotion,
Form:
Sijo
He pushed her rapidly to the edge so many times
But she was a good girl, she told herself, shutting out her grandma’s voice
Poison him! Her grandmother urged. Showing her which herbs to gather.
His anger filled the room, wrote despair on the walls of her soul.
Still she ignored the voice, because she was from the Bible Belt.
Bible Belt girls just take their medicine, feeling they deserve it.
He took her to the hospital on the third day.
Another fall down the stairs, the intern guessed.
They got her in a room alone. Tried to get her to speak of his evil.
She deserved this. She had earned it. If she had just been good.
He is going to kill you the next time, one of the nurses said.
Press charges! But if she could just be better, and she knew she could.
He took a hammer to her, a knife, a whip, a chain. She clammed up.
Read her Bible, knew the answers were in there.
Page 183 her grandmother’s writing.
There was the recipe. It would kill him with no trace.
She slipped it into his tea, shaking so hard she thought he would know.
He slipped into a deep sleep and never awoke.
The coroner said “heart disease most likely”.
Page 183 more likely she thought, safe at last.
Categories:
clammed, abuse, woman, women,
Form:
Prose Poetry