Best Clutching Poems
If ever I had two hours with you… or three,
the vacancy of this night and lulled
shores would be refilled with the gushing
of frosted air on our reveries past;
the multitude of amiable stars bestowing
a hush of surrender... raged midnights ending
into fresh mornings backed by our
theme song replayed.
Then, to recall the sevens and nines of time
cutting our names into crumpled paper: a departure
of hearts traveling in different territories.
We inched away,
not because of lack for vows marked in deepest
sands. But… by fate’s desire to shelter you in
a faraway place, while I... I burned skies
through the pain and beauty
the long distance of regrets had claimed.
If and when we unite again, two or three hours
by God's grace, oh the fluttering of a thousand
fearless thoughts would not be enough to say you were
the branch that got away, and I was your last rose
that lost its stem.
Perhaps, now is the moment to clutch the moment?
Regina Riddle's Seize The Day ( Carpe Diem)
10/26/2014
Deprived of love and hope
She finds it hard to cope
Yearning to fill her empty bowl
To the devil she would sell her soul.
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Four Line Contest in Rhyme
Hosted by Silent One
Placed 2nd
Let there be peace all over the land
Where folks of every nation join hands
But no naughty touching
No grabbing and clutching
Unless you get permission, then you can
© Jack Ellison 2015
Life is clutching at straws, childhood and school what can I do. Teens and dating,
mature one day. Jobs and working life, a nightmare from morning to night.
Family and friends betray you, hearts get broken along the way. Knight in shining armor, it just got tarnished.
I have gone through a box of straws, so now what do I do.
Date Written: 9/9/2020
Clutching at straws
That break
Metaphorically
The camels back
The waysides chaplen says
Bring back heroin
We can't control
Ice addicts
solitary tree with outstretched fingers
desiccated surroundings
not giving up on life
©070320122055
Clutching at Straws
I clutched a straw
albeit
one for me
that is
quite more
than enough
for I be just
one
It skews
in my hand
caused by the
grasp of it
hope its
release beckons
a recall of
its former
self
Alas,
not nearly as
close but
far worse
for where it
bends was a
tear
So now
I'd be ready
this rarest
thing that I do
as I gingerly
grasped more
then all of the
straws
Clutching
them unbeknownst
to me hails a
slightly older
kid in need
of a
straw
Looks
puzzled at first
till his inner brows
met his nose
and the outer
rosed
up
Without
fail I replaced
all save one
in the empty
jar and slowly
began to
retreat
When
suddenly a
hand reached
from behind me
and yanked
the straw I
held
Defensive
training consumed
me as I roundhouse
kicked him to a
penitent
pose
Again
with a puzzled
and now dazed look
he returned to me
my unaffected
sturdy
straw
He
tells his
friends no
more will he
be grasping
at straws
there
Then
I turned
and grinned
imagined a lesson I
received for the result of
that moment I was
unlearnt in defense
and it had finished
adversely
against
me
2020 September 26
*2nd Place*
Clutching at Straws
~~Kai Michael Neumann
I wanted to believe you
when you said there was no such thing as Hell.
I wanted to believe you when you
said that pain was just an illusion
and that I could find eternity in the
the eyes of a cloudless sky;
You always said that those slowly
fading blots of light were souls
passing on to the next experience,
“Just like us.”
I found a distant comfort in that.
But I always have to feel, in the moment.
I want, so desperately, to be able to
clutch the essence of anything of substance.
And not have it yanked away by the
thunder- raucously trembling the
world behind my eyes.
So, I take my lighter and strike it.
I watch the fire dance until the heat
makes the shroud glow-
and drive it into my arm and sink
into the cradle of wretched comfort
that you must have never discovered.
I’d hate for you to see me like this.
Writhing. Laughing, on the edge.
With tears like falling stars,
almost casting shadows across
my cheeks with their haste.
This. Is the only way. I have been
able to center, my storm.
And I can never get all the clouds
to go away. But, I try. I really do.
To be, more like you.
Even though you’re just another
shooting star, casting its shadow
across my careworn visage.
A memory, that I can barely hold onto.
Burning its way into my perdition.
-James Kelley 2019
To now support his plastic cause
he complains about paper straws.
The paper ones we chuck away.
Plastic ones use day after day.
Holding the straw between our lips
we take our drink in little sips,
much healthier than gulp gulp gulp.
But paper soon turns back to pulp.
Those paper straws that we still see
were all made from a chopped down tree.
We must make efforts more and more
to sip a drink with plastic straw.
So let's support the plastic cause
and reject all those paper straws.
They know she disappeared from the play ground,
her jumper was found on merry go round,
Dad looked everywhere in the park he could,
every day remote hope, return she would,
ten years since that sad day, their eyes still search,
In crowds amongst strangers in malls and church,
A face would someday approach with a smile,
by instinct would know her, although a while,
Would hug their daughter ardently once more,
she was alive somewhere and come ashore,
Her room awaits her as she left that day,
‘Clutching at straws’, she will find her way!
Kai Michael Neumann
“Clutching at straws“ poetry contest
written 11/September/2020
inspired by disappearance of little Madeline M
in the twilight hours
when all is deathly quiet
i lay awake
clutching at straws
i watch over you
with all the vigilance
i can muster
holding my breath as if
as if i might protect you
as if i could fight off the ravages
of time and the venom inside you
the cancer that eats away at you
i refuse to close my eyes
so not to hear the thunder
of raging lynchmen
madly riding their horses
through the fog of night
in the twilight hours
when all is deathly quiet
i lay awake
on the lookout
clutching at straws
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on September 13, 2020 for contest CLUTCHING AT STRAWS sponsored by KAI MICHAEL NEUMANN
A loving father once said of his now deceased son, "I shall go to him, but he shall not return to ME"*. It was his way of acknowledging REALITY. If our lives involve an ocean beach, we live with the high and low TIDES. We learn to adapt to things we do not control and roll with them in THRIDE.
To keep reaching for or holding on to something that you once SAW, Refusing to see the hand-writing on the wall, is clutching at STRAWS. It's not over until it's over, but you must know when it is finally OVER. Even in Spring time, how long is too long to look for for a 4-leaf CLOVER?
The Lord sought to heal and restore Israel until there were no more REMEDIES**. Mercy triumphs judgment because we want to give every possible opportunity for a situation or relationship to work. In a sense, The Lord let go of the straws. Sometimes we have to possess the ability to expose and judge human TRAVESTIES.
Often it is next to impossible to turn and walk away when it rains on our PARADE. If the sun beams down upon us, and the tree that we have relied upon for SHADE has been cut down, it is not a time for WHINING and CRYING. We must FACE the music and plant another tree in its PLACE. If it doesn't rain, and water is scarce, a rock lawn may be more appropriate than one with GRASS. When we have spilled the milk, we must wipe it up, grab a cookie, and pour another GLASS.
091820PSCtest, Clutching At Straws, Kai Michael Neumann *2 Samuel 12:23; **Jeremiah 36:16; 18 Rhymes in Caps