Best Confounded Poems
I hate it that you don't like what I write
You'd think at least one time I'd get it right
I get first place with others, never you
Won't join another one, that's what I will do
Consistently put down, oh what a drain!
I find your selectivity a pain!
Most others think my writes are pretty cool
But when I write for you, I'm just a fool
Well, here's to let you know that I am done
Cause entering your contests sure ain't fun
I squeeze my brain in hopes to win your smile
But I get tossed right out on rubbish pile
I'll gloat and savor every winning place
From one to three are ones that light my face
From 4 on down, you freaking kidding me????
Dear contest sponsor, you are HISTORY!
A....HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!!!
For Jerry's Contest Contest!
January 5, 2015
Categories:
confounded, poetry,
Form:
Quatrain
I am confounded, confused, truly perplexed
By people who are selfish and mean.
Were they abandoned in bathroom stalls?
Did they have to survive on a cold tile floor?
Was their world so cruel that they think only of themselves?
I am confounded, confused, truly perplexed
By people who are bossy and belligerent.
Do they think this is the way to influence you?
To make you a friend? To straighten you out?
Why is their way the only way?
Were they raised by alcoholics? Not able to change their sad childhoods?
I am confounded, confused, truly perplexed
By people who are perpetually angry and grouchy.
Do they never find their bliss? Do they frighten away their soul mates?
Do they not know that sadness is at the root of their anger?
Why do they not reach out for help? Do they trust no one?
Were they raised in houses where mothers held I-pads instead of them?
I am confounded, confused, truly perplexed by depression,
Anxiety, and grief. These feelings are terrifying for me. I am
An empath, so I have to stay away from these feelings. I hope
You understand. If my empathy perplexes you, I get it.
Categories:
confounded, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Prose Poetry
“My grandfather was strong and mighty, till he died at age of ninety.
The clock then stopped to run no more.
Then one of my relations wrote a song, sung for generations.
I think of it more and more:
“My grandfather’s clock was too large for the shelf,
So it stood ninety years on the floor.
It was taller by half than the old man himself,
Though it weighed not a penny-weight more . . .”
Shaken from his quaint digression, his face in tense expression,
He renewed his dire obsession
About what made the clock strike in the night.
He slipped to the room adjacent, above an empty basement,
Where stood the clock’s encasement – opened so very slight.
Moving with stealth, and in no hurry,
He saw an object hunched and furry;
His cat stood vigil in the night, with eyes reflecting light.
A mouse, the cat had faced, into the clock was chased,
And up the pendulum raced, quickly taking flight.
Climbing the clock’s encasement, the mouse’s weight displacement,
Tripped the spring so tight; it struck with awesome might!
Striking twelve it had numbered, his muddled thoughts encumbered,
Scared awake from slumber in the night.
“All of this is so confusing, could I, these years be using
The clock with spring so tight?”
In his mental delusion he added to the confusion,
For this intrusion in the night.
There was nothing he couldn’t handle
With his shotgun on the mantle by the door,
With it he could surely even up the score.
With the menace looming bigger, he quickly pulled the trigger
Then the grandfather clock was no more
And the cat and mouse— a taxidermy chore.
Categories:
confounded, parodyspring, cat, grandfather, spring,
Form:
Narrative
CONFOUNDED ( COLLABORATION )
by~ S.Jagathsimhan Nair
When tension grips and the head reels
In its ever accelerated twirl
When two rays dangle from two flayed poles,
And the dumb loss of a moment’s truth
Looks so conspicuous and an eminently
Forgettable lapse of an inoffensive world
When the gentle genre to which the slamming
Of an ever open door in the face of
The rare perspicacity and purpose shown
By a soul, a land and a generation belongs
Looks so commonplace; when the benign
Visitor’s countenance does indeed despair
And crave a black visor above the originality
Of its expansiveness and the staggering degradation
Of its vitality; I have this great ache’s abundance
Stirring in my cupped palms, held out in supplication,
Till it rests, for an ever lasting understanding
Ever in the vision, ever into its aftermath.
by~ p.d.
The "aftermath" of any loss seems to consist in any form.
An aster plea subsiding every look.
Behind glory behind redemption~
Giving rest to the velocity speeding force
Creations of fantasy and religion and imagination
I paint the skies with my fingertips, to feel the mass
The world trembles at the knowledge of relativity.
"I sit in displeasure, injecting every generation into my veins!"
New born babies, born into this puzzled abyss.
Bewildered minds accepting stupendous addictions.
A poison to taste every sunrise,
Forbidden tongues baffle the night
Mental representation, stirring up conflict
Foiled toes to hold and worship.
Steady vision behind these eyes so confounded.
a collaboration with* S,Jagathsimhan Nair
my collaboration contest
Categories:
confounded, confusion, loss, loss,
Form:
Free verse
The night was dreadfully dreary, his body old and weary
In his bed did hear he— a sound so full of fright.
With bolt-upright attention, his breath held in suspension,
He sat in self-detention on the bed.
His eyes were wide, not seeing, while in the darkness being
Perplexed in fright from a sound heard in the night.
“Why did I awaken? Why am I so shaken?
Perhaps I am mistaken in my plight.
Did I hear someone calling? Was it something falling?
Falling in the night?
What’s more to my liking, if perhaps the clock was striking
Once on its bell, striking in the night.”
“Yes, that’s what I was hearing, ‘twas nothing to be fearing,
For once half-past it strikes.”
To the dark his eyes adjusted, his mind with dreams encrusted,
As silhouettes distrusted came into sight.
“What are my eyes now seeing? Is that a human being?
Or was I just hearing the clock that strikes?”
He lay back down to listen, dark shadows flit and glisten,
The moon was out of sight.
Now, not to his liking, the clock began to striking—
Twelve strokes at midnight!
With bolt-upright attention, his breath held in suspension
Once again he was filled with fright.
As he sat there staring, his thoughts were more ensnaring,
Not daring to sleep till morning light.
He pondered the aberration in a fit of trepidation
About the grandfather clock.
“Why my thoughts now bother, the clock died with Grandfather,
Forty years ago tonight!”
(Continued in Part 2)
Categories:
confounded, parodysound, dark, dark, sound,
Form:
Narrative
Confounded
-1-
When tension grips and the head reels
In its ever accelerated twirl
When two rays dangle from two flayed poles,
And the dumb loss of a moment’s truth
Looks so conspicuous and an eminently
Forgettable lapse of an inoffensive world
When the gentle genre to which the slamming
Of an ever open door in the face of
The rare perspicacity and purpose shown
By a soul, a land and a generation belongs
Looks so commonplace; when the benign
Visitor’s countenance does indeed despair
And crave a black visor above the originality
Of its expansiveness and the staggering degradation
Of its vitality; I have this great ache’s abundance
Stirring in my cupped palms, held out in supplication,
Till it rests, for an ever lasting understanding
Ever in the vision, ever into its aftermath.
-2-
And when an hour’s trial and a moment’s judgement
Bide time in the halls of eternity
I get this call upon me to my concept’s elucidation
And this urge to its sound espousal
But in a brief and breathless pass upon a syllable
When I catch the trail left of a wayward home coming
I find eunuchs elucidating emancipation’s final flowering
In its lone path of glory.
And for once I lose my heart, I lose my sensibilities
The stupendous reversal of a progression of faith
Finally does catch up with me
Annulling this reckless gambler’s momentary wins
But who is now going to pay up its hefty price
And take home the horrid truth.
By: S.Jagathsimhan Nair
17 May 12
For: Elliott Bowe's" Drunken pen"
Categories:
confounded, confusion, home, home,
Form:
Free verse
Am lost, petrified, mortified
Just the thought of the future haunts my mind
Knowing that your path’s becoming so obscure
Not a good word about it u can find!
Torn between the lines, and pages
Of this book we call our life’s story
That all this happiness we are told comes with it
Is nothing short of an old memory
That haunted you all your life
That changed the very purpose you held so dear
And from this one verse
All you read was, doubt, confusion… Fear!
“Past actions mold us!”… They said
“God has a purpose for all”, they proclaimed
“There’s always a way”, they whispered
Didn’t take into events that it always rains
And when it does,
Those past actions haunt you
And deep in your mind you get lost
Can’t tell if all this is a lie or the truth
Now am stuck in a corner
And you are left wanting more
But this is all I can share
Until of my own future I am sure!
Categories:
confounded, cry, loneliness, lonely, lost,
Form:
Rhyme
Villanelle: Has anyone seen my stray confounded poem
Has anyone seen my stray confounded poem
Two hundred leagues long ten times as much deep
All night I tossed in its wayward waters foam
Three lines I wrought short of just one neurone
Kept me waking drowsing falling back to sleep
Has anyone seen my stray confounded poem
Just three words nagging I could not call back home
Or was it the feminine rhyme I could not keep
All night I tossed in its wayward waters foam
I thought on waking up first lines had round come
I could see naked words before my eyes weep
Has anyone seen my stray confounded poem
Some naughty mermaid lure my lines to embalm
Or did some Rhyme Master frown down from crest steep
All night I tossed in its wayward waters foam
Redress not tresses nor shoals of letters blame
Let them swish and swarm comb hidden beaches sweep
Has anyone seen my stray confounded poem
All night I tossed in its wayward waters foam
(c) T. Wignesan - Paris, 2017
Categories:
confounded, allegory, crazy, creation, dream,
Form:
Villanelle
confounded again
Croesus latitarsus
birch sawfly larvae
Found these Birch sawfly larvae (8th June 2018), on a self-seeded Silver birch sapling growing on the upper bank of my pond. Not sure but I think the bright colours could mean they are unpalatable?
Categories:
confounded, nature,
Form:
Haiku
Silence can sometimes say more than words.
Like a voice crying out saying "that's for the birds".
In one glimpse of haughty reveals action turned verb.
Without out even squeeking you unveil; could be worse?
Could be lashing and slashing ripped apart with both hands.
Leaving bodies like mountains seething piles of flesh.
And though you thought it not raught it left me bundled in shame.
I know it was candor fessing up to your game.
No excuse for the sadness that was left in your wake.
A timely disaster open hearts, bleeding hate.
Not a feeling I'm fond of not even one bit.
Like rolling rock rivers, canyons erode dissapate.
I became something new something truly regressed.
It's all of your fault caught by surprise must confess.
Makes me sick to my stomach knowing you only lied.
Bringing shame to my standing the proverbial line.
It's sad though you had nothing and I had only to give.
Though my heart sustained damage I somnambulantly live.
Scarred for life by this treachery even talk of a kid.
It all seems so stupid now thinking you were the best.
But now I have nothing I'll leave you to the rest.
Categories:
confounded, anger, betrayal, corruption, farewell,
Form:
Free verse
Confounded landing
The more complexity developed within me, was
Not finding solution to get rid of inner tragedy
Still, increment further to it added, blazes in love piece
A torture, torment and scattered feelings
Dismantle of roofs ahead and falling down of pillars
A long sigh in it, impulse to burn into ashes around
Those, grey views of flown hot dust landing into mind
Added, a gear of lamentation producing laming hands
Helpless legs were buried since long known of calamities
Undecided plebiscite was roaring, ego of human beings
In that, my existence was diminishing into zero
The pit of my landing place was developing into marsh
No escape was viewing for winning from confounded landing
Mid night stroke dense dark, coinciding with palpitation shark.
(11/08/2014)
Categories:
confounded, absence, conflict, confusion, cry,
Form:
Blank verse
Understanding that a period of anger and rage need to be had,
to allow her to vent her emotions and then regain her sense of self and
reality.
But is a prolonged period needed?
Is such a permitted tenure being abused?
Not wanting to give in I remain in a sense of unbudging callousness.
Only such a state will empower me agains the abuse of her warranted
anger.
Why can we no longer be amorists?
Why have we been conformed to have no dialogue between us?
No normality of such a relationship has existed for some time.
Not since this relationship has been cultivated, have we experienced
the socially acceptable union...or even that had among our peers and
elders.
Partly due to my lack of experiecne and damaged conscious, many of our
problems can be charged to me.
But why, when something better is desired, is there no coupled effort?
Nothing sought after on her part?
Perplexed, I seek to dig within myself to alter my ways.
But still she does not appreciate any change.
She continues to have her magnifying glass over my head, only examining
my shortcomings.
Perturbed...Confounded I remain.
Categories:
confounded, confusion, husband, lost love,
Form:
Narrative
Regaining a confident spirit, as positivity blossoms within.
The utter sense of a rut has vanished, the charismatic advanceman is
back in control.
Waiting to tackle any and every obstacle with urgency and admirable
aggressiveness.
Feening for opportunity to make his voice be heard, to speak out above
all others.
But just then timidity grips his core, he can utter no word.
Panting, gasping for a breath...why is such a change so rapid?
Confused, all are waiting for the aggressive natured potentate to
arrive, but he is no more.
Replaced by a gentle mild mannered individual, he lies in the company
of beast-like characters...waiting to envelope him.
He withdraws from the situation, doubting himself and his abilities.
His doubts, his motives, are all called into question. What has
happened to the mind and heart of such a respected obelisk-like figure?
He used to dwell by the belief of trusting himself when doubted and
reviled by all others.
But now when doubting himself, what doctrine is to be of a consolation?
Withdrawing...fear gripping...there seems to be no reflective insight,
no thinking or wishing of solution.
Only debilitating doubt and an utter dread of the day to be dawned.
Categories:
confounded, confusion, sad,
Form:
Narrative
Trump Confused and Confounded
Trump is confused and confounded;
Into many crimes became compounded;
Constantly confusing;
Eating meals refusing;
Stupidity is in each word he has sounded.
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
Categories:
confounded, allegory, analogy, humorous,
Form:
Limerick
Confounded, to an empty space
I send my question mark
The voiceless echo blurs my face
I send again, when sky gets dark
Who’s me? another chimney mouse
Most decent of all mice
I wouldn’t take your time for hours
With me it would be nice
To talk about our everydays
How well it goes, what’s wrong
And what seems right, in other case
We wouldn’t talk for long
I know so well, that you have changed
But there’s no way I could
Foresee how life is turning strange
The whole new attitude
Annihilates the time, that passed
The words, that has been said
Maintains the distance, that is vast
And silence you have sent.
Categories:
confounded, deep, longing, love,
Form:
Rhyme