Best Crawling With Poems
The First Texian Macabre Arena Ballad (The extended free-fallen edition)
In another life, is where I first saw your face!
One summer afternoon, lying wounded next to the dead
Unopened gun powder, mass destruction, a land of disgrace
A blood thirst battlefield is where I first saw your face
The sound of war, hidden behind bleeding hands
Crawlers, render their lives giving grace
Jaws of steel, broken, embracing, warm feelings
Summer rain, lungs filled with blood, one last post
Glorious by numbers, screaming blades
Gemstone in touch with the Holy Ghost
Soldiers come in a little close
Crawling, missing limbs,
Twisted nightmare with no ending
Macabre reminder, retracing the aroma of eternal life
Secrets buried like a treasure under walls of sudden death
Revolutionary tears found on a rusted Bowie knife
Lanterns, crackling against the dying wind
Dirt piles of crushed windpipes -- sudden death
Rummage like garbage, the dead Texian
A Falling Alamo Star, taking one last twinkle upon the sky
Forgotten Patriots, I can't remember the names
Written on walls, I can't remember the names
A folktale arena is where I first saw your face
Fairness of stuttered surrender slicing through iron brace
Crawling, with the hunger to live, a clean finish with grace
Exposing, scars needing mother's hands, mothers face
Across infested meadows, the aroma of burning skin
Distant, before Texas and her annexation,
Gruesome, before I lived, Texas and her mortal sin
I pledge, my love, the honor, a legion, I'm a full blown Texian
To Every Forgotten Texian Patriot----- We Win!
By: PD
You, who are so perfect in my eyes, so beautiful- adorable, and I, so flawed, ugly, damaged and crawling with defects; why do you enjoy my company?
You, who are so sleek and slender, humming with a quiet intellect and a serenity about you, and I, so grossly overweight and pretentiously boastful and nervous; how can you abide my company?
You, who are a paragon of patience, so understanding and self-assured, and I, so insanely impulsive, so myopic and brimming with self-doubt; how do you stand my company?
You, who are so sweet, so considerably kind, so thoughtful and generous, and I, so bitter, so selfish, so self-absorbed; why do you choose my company?
You, who are so self-composed, full of self-control, so sound and stable, and I, so very neurotic, so completely compulsive and verily volatile; how can you tolerate my company?
You, who are so diligent, so driven and ambitious, so achieving, and I, so lackadaisically lazy, so uninspired, so complacent; why do you settle for my company?
You, who are ethical, so moral, so very virtuous, and I, so corrupt, so unprincipled, so wholly wicked; how can you endure my company?
You, who are so normal, so well-adjusted, so conventional, and I, so maniacal, so unbalanced and irrational; why do you condone my company?
You, who are bubbling with charm, who loves unconditionally and is absolutely accepting, and I, boiling with rage, fueled by misanthropy and incredibly intolerant; how can you welcome my company?
That you love and accept me for who and what I am, is a treasure beyond measure. I cherish your company, but why you cherish mine is something I cannot fathom. All I know is that I love you, my dear, beloved friend.
**This was written for two very dear friends: Karen and Tommy :)
***I also love palindromes ;)
*****FREE VERSE OLD AND NEW ENTRY
Parched and dry, this barren field stretches,
I wander, head hung low,
staring at the emptiness eclipsing my thoughts
Brittle blades of grass disappear beneath
my worn out sneakers,
black and white crushing beige
in slow fashioned footprints of blistered dust
“My sanity for some cool water”
When upon my shoulders, reddened by solar intensity,
wet from exerted energy, comes a breeze
as if Autumn has come to claim her colors,
to gather her brown and sepia landscape,
pull the lifeless trees, with little leaf
from the chalk textured ground taking it
where it would suit another, for this is my luck
"Take my shade I beg not, for it is merely a branch”
Like fingers of a silken web’s reach,
a soft caress of skin is not understood, though very pleasant
Nature finds me a shiver, a small comfort in this arid place
once crawling with snakes of assorted length, now
green as if lush has just been defined
with sweet air and pomegranate skies featuring a glow,
pristine shades of which I’ve never seen, heavenly
“To whom might I thank for such a gift?”
When before me stands, my eyes saturated and lost
slowly focus on beauty, winged loveliness now smiling within my own
personal oasis, which quickly forms in my heart
An angel, a goddess, extends a hand to me?
My cracked and weathered palm touches, smooth, gentle
her hand as she lifts me, I am weightless, floating
to her, my breath leaves me as I wonder, is this my end?
“If this beauty shall be my final curtain, let it be dropped slowly”
A voice of velvet speaks, as I fade in and out of reality,
now steadied by her touch and the sweet scent of lavender and lime
“I have come to you as a verse, for poetry is thy keeper,
thy words have been heard,” lyrical this voice sings
melodic and harmonious, a rhythm to the beat of my heart,
the race of my pulse, the love of my life, my muse, my all
“Eternal to you I shall write, for your beauty fuels my pen”
*I feel this poem speaks of poetry, the reason we are all here. To find and share our muse, to be inspired and grow together in poetry. It also was a step out of my comfort zone for me as this was an early write of mine where I tried a few new ideas.
Dark Night – City Streets
A dark night on city streets
soft yellow glare of streetlights
outlining slow creepy things.
Scents of cooling kitchens
and boiling excitement
tickled the deepening thrill.
A rising tremor of frightful glee
slinking through the streets
mocking the shadows lies.
City streets crawling with anticipation
window shades peeked through
doors held ajar in preparation,
For they would come – as always
on this, their night, utter again
the monsters mantra – Trick or Treat.
Flow in wicked waves of want
seek the lowly sustenance
of the sticky sweet tribute.
Short, weary legs of demons
tire easily - and slowly
retreat to comfort of warm lairs.
Window shades are straightened
doors closed and locked
streetlight shadows calmed
As monsters – cleaned and preened,
hugged and nuzzled in their nests
sleep, and dream, of Halloween.
10/24/2015
Who said:
"You don't realise what you've got, till it's gone."
In your absence I despise silence,
when you're gone loneliness visits,
but his friendship, I do not desire.
An empty scent circulates in the room.
Air is cold and crisp, all is black and white
with sad songs on repeat.
I find no peace listening to the rain since
you left me in the darkness of the eclipse.
Phone keeps ringing, but its not your name
flashing on display - I prefer a blank screen.
Not one voice seems to appease,
nor give me peace from this disease -
when you disappear like Houdini.
Yet your ghost lingers in the backdrop.
A candle quivers, dripping in tears of wax.
I don't blame your heart for its change,
but why so stubborn in bitter muteness.
Without you my soul resides in an empty trunk,
defaced with green moss, crawling with beetles.
Sanity is dripping like a leaking bottle of crimson water.
I remember when you were a wounded bird,
bleeding on a path to no where, unable to fly,
crying endlessly, yearning for your nest -
but now you have flown so far away.
Sometimes there is no patience in time,
especially when one closes their mind.
Without a chance to clarify confusion,
all is lost in ignorant translation.
Once, I had a million pieces of affection,
wedged between my soul, heart and mind,
but in your eyes they were rejected as unworthy.
Once what you loved, is now your enemy.
Today, I am the twin of sorrow,
tomorrow your twin will be regret
and you'll be crying when you're forgotten.
Simple Musing (fictional poem)
Silent One
20 November 2020
The quote is a line from the song "Big Yellow Taxi" by Joni Mitchell from the album Ladies of the Canyon (1970).
imagine any haunted house to have:
Creaking stairways
Whispering blinds
Creepy doorways
Blood-curdling sounds
Spooky cob-webs
Ominous darkness
Ghastly shadows
Dreadful loneliness
Spine tingling shrieks
Owls hooting
Things that make
Your skin crawl
Foreboding terror
An eerie silence
yet squeaky rats
A threatening suspense
with fluttering bats.
Thus a place crawling with,
oversized gnats
scurrying brats
and all kinds of scary things lurking about
except for scaredy-cats .
Like me of the fraidy cats
Tell me would you dare to venture
Into such a house
For a halloweenish midnight adventure ?
(Ok happened to pass an allegedly haunted abandoned house that most people don't want to venture in and I enjoyed scarifying myself thinking about it in the poetic way above for fun)
YIKES, I'M ALREADY SCARED.!
`
Parched and dry, this barren field stretches,
I wander, head hung low,
staring at the emptiness eclipsing my thoughts
Brittle blades of grass disappear beneath
my worn out sneakers,
black and white crushing beige
in slow fashioned footprints of blistered dust
“My sanity for some cool water”
When upon my shoulders, reddened by solar intensity,
wet from exerted energy, comes a breeze
as if Autumn has come to claim her colors,
to gather her brown and sepia landscape,
pull the lifeless trees, with little leaf
from the chalk textured ground taking it
where it would suit another, for this is my luck
"Take my shade I beg not, for it is merely a branch”
Like fingers of a silken web’s reach,
a soft caress of skin is not understood, though very pleasant
Nature finds me a shiver, a small comfort in this arid place
once crawling with snakes of assorted length, now
green as if lush has just been defined
with sweet air and pomegranate skies featuring a glow,
pristine shades of which I’ve never seen, heavenly
“To whom might I thank for such a gift?”
When before me stands, my eyes saturated and lost
slowly focus on beauty, winged loveliness now smiling within my own
personal oasis, which quickly forms in my heart
An angel, a goddess, extends a hand to me?
My cracked and weathered palm touches, smooth, gentle
her hand as she lifts me, I am weightless, floating
to her, my breath leaves me as I wonder, is this my end?
“If this beauty shall be my final curtain, let it be dropped slowly”
A voice of velvet speaks, as I fade in and out of reality,
now steadied by her touch and the sweet scent of lavender and lime
“I have come to you as a verse, for poetry is thy keeper,
thy words have been heard,” lyrical this voice sings
melodic and harmonious, a rhythm to the beat of my heart,
the race of my pulse, the love of my life, my muse, my all
“Eternal to you I shall write, for your beauty fuels my pen”
Under the wrought iron arch and gateway
crawling with both wild and deep red creepers
complimented by evergreens.
The fall colors are splendid.
Most of the flowers are giving way
to the chill, and the swans are graceful and content
with the breeding season now over
Walking slowly along the narrow drive,
spots of color scatter around the green grass.
What beautiful yards,
each house made of stone,
granite - marble - sandstone.
The foundation of the earth
Dark stone black, pink, white, gray, burnt umber, rose
beautiful houses inviting you closer,
please see my name.
I was here many years ago.
Cholera came to me and took my spirit away.
But I was pretty and young and full of joy.
For a little while.
Old stones to the early 1800's.
Stones with angels guarding a lamb
baby tears fall, in time giving the stone soft edges.
One from yesterday.
Come see me in my house. Mausoleum strong and tall.
Handsome and successful.
Each as individual in death as their homes and places were in life.
Over here, I fought for my country. Me and all my buddies here,
laid out under each of these many white crosses.
Hello, don’t forget my free spirit ... riding high over the houses
touring where ever the wind wishes.
Swirling fine invisible ashes through the trees
sparkling in the late closing sun.
A town’s history. Natural, tragic, sickness, murder ... all here
The history wraps around the casual visitor.
Keening out not to be forgotten.
Calling, we were important pioneers.
The end of day sun setting on their windows
Aglow with the spirit of yesteryear.
My once precious flower,
Your fragrance has plateau:
The beetles lurking in the dark,
and crawling with the thrust
of the wind when it’s light
are mischievous, and they have
no love within their hearts.
Enveloping the essence of
your core, and your once flourishing
inner beauty; they have uncovered
your shining passion of lost light,
which was once a beacon of hope,
thus, your once lovable soul—they
now consume!
~~~~~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~~~~~
© Joseph S. Spence, Sr., (Epulaeryu Master) 10/15/08
All Rights Reserved, Milwaukee, Wisconsin, USA
Senior Advisor, to Founder of Motivational Strips
Ambassador De Literature
Noble Star of Literature 2018
Living Legend of the 21st Century
Pentasiv B World Friendship Poetry Featured Poet 2019
~~~~~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~~~~~
Joseph S. Spence, Sr., is the author of "The Awakened One Poetics" (2009), which is
published in seven different languages. He invented the Epulaeryu poetry form, which
focuses on succulent cuisines and drinks. He is published in various forums, including the
World Haiku Association; Poetinis Druskininku, Milwaukee Area College, Phoenix Magazine;
Möbius Poetry, and Taj Mahal Review to name a few. Joseph is a Goodwill Ambassador for
the state of Arkansas, USA, a college faculty, and a military veteran.
~~~~~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~~~~~
When life gives you lemons you can make lemonade
You seem pretty happy with the choices you've made
You think that life is a simple cup of tea?
Well tell me this, do you see what I see?
I see a world full of death and destruction
A world that prefers war over construction
Countries run by corrupt dictators
Websites just crawling with haters
At this time human interaction is rough
With kids strutting around, thinking they are tough
Now all the victims days aren't very sunny
Tell me, do you still think bullying is funny?
I see individuals who hate
Because of the gender that people date
And people, with their reasoning thin
Judge others based on the color of their skin
I see pollution, confusion, and people who starve
I see the downfall of humanity, due to the society we've carved
I see secrets being kept by the people who rule
I see people being mugged, now that's not very cool
The people we fear are the ones who're supposed to protect
Society is blind due to the secrets that are kept
In order to progress we will have to fix ourselves, yes, both you and me
Don't you see? This world needs equality
Yes I know "look on the bright side of things"
Be grateful for the good, and toast with a cling
Yes, optimism is a trait in which I wish I had more
But unfortunately, these topics are too big to ignore
Do you still think that life is a pot of honey?
Tell me now, do you see what I see?
Life on a hitchhike
A cool drool drip slid to the corner of a slit shut
mouth. Eyes that once FLASHED reared back and humbled
into occular armpits, no explanation. Hands that once
felt warmth and high hopes slowly tremmored twitching
careless as unmatter of fact. I watch the
flesh depart, skin crawling with old breakfast
sausage patty indifference. Postage due----Royal flesh
does not win. Careful. External refuse
hidden bonds confide in mass abuse of internal
bliss like factory worker, paydayholiday Friday. Say
goodbye like used coffee grounds At last gasp I
set sockets against a blank ceiling scanning with
eyes aglee and a wave in omnidirectional fervor.
Too finite? Numb and neutral with nothing at stake
I praise a restless content over a form boring of
less than glib compose and promote a position of
erectile tissue and ooooze about time , space
swaying to and fro for this invisible temptation
at arms------------------------------------------length
dave collins, "Yes", 1/89, Wash D.C.
"An Equitable Assassin Trying to be Nice"
...he
slides the coldies
across the table,
the beer, American
not as sharp,
but slides down
quick, smoothly
clean
cold
crisp
he thinks,
lips ripe
for kissing
the prints warm
the motive missing
somewhere lost in the hallelujahs
Jacob’s Ladder
crawling with
footprints
hands, fingers
and lips
all over glass walls
Snow White
doesn’t sleep
at all, but ...
cool as a block of ice,
history melting
all over the place
a cold case
trying to be tidy
trying to be nice
an equitable
assassin
out of place
trying to be nice
cool as a block of ice
history melting
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
not in the heart again
for chrissakes it's like Swiss cheese
decoffinated please I'm a yet ambulatory zombie
off his medication as usual
alternatives to logic 101 with Prof. Spike
far too much work for a dead end
saw his only ally the embalmers needle
left his innards spilled in the sand
history in its entirety mocked his comprehension
had the nation in tears and then nausea
several dueling scars graced his genitals
if our perceptions already lie
why shouldn't we
I had to laugh
it was all I could do to keep from smiling
even after a thousand years of AI research
the electronic government was helpless
my Microsoft forehead radiator
absolutely charmingly couldn't get any focus
but the Royal Society of Blind Philosophers
helped me with my little problem
a miracle of recipe repair
because our endorphin soup is a bit thin
the quicksilver cooks ate first and fell asleep
having thrown away their brains long before
in the field kitchen of the gods
after the air raid sirens of postmodernity
can there be too much truth
for an army of blood diamond merchants
now a bit more about para electrics
if only I were at liberty to discuss it
yes imprecision can carry signal
but the place is crawling with dilettantes
wearing their secret butt plugs
it's a guessing game as you can see
petitioning for a visually diagrammatic idiom
although it's a devilish seesaw but let us restart
The Oblivion Ride was the big theme park attraction
my extended family was in the sideshow
justifiably taken for a pack of fools
then the sun went down and never came up again
and we stepped into the stone circle
chanting evidence is preferable
to the moonlit tombstone
good luck with that in your airwaves
broadcast on radio Sarajevo
signal drifting drifting drifting
with minds great and small
and smaller and smaller
the Internet is the yearned for Messiah
there it's done and out and not to be unseen
you wrestle with it while I proceed
dashing among startled commuters
mesmerizing the fact finding committee
their dictatorship of x-ray leeches
tossed him out of several monasteries
apparently the production quotas were relaxed
in a kaleidoscope of normalcy
the style crazed mannerist martinets
howdy do nail in my shoe
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
A crazy discovery one buzzing bee
Look beyond the image circling with light
I found a snake entered the garden
crawling with hate in his grass
blocking his strike after a comment
on my personal like a bat coming out of the sun
Shallow dripping poisonous darkness you reek
I can see behind your mask
all words are fake
Rather than honey honesty I am real
an advance in the human knowledge stands over
In false judgement
amazing what happens and when one can see
Smiling in love even the heart is soaked in sunshine
the truth always reveals in Heavenly council
Such sadness weeps in the end
in the all seeing eye of our creator
What it reveals to me bitterness
I know one makes mistakes in life
never a false poet I pen how it draws
"A House In New Orleans" Contest
Sponsor: Lin Lane
Walking down Bourbon Street I stopped at the 1850 house to see it for myself. The French Quarter is rich with historic homes...homes with fully furnished decorations and you can smell the history of New Orleans the second you walk through the front door. It's considered a jewel of this city and depicts family life during such prosperous period in the city's history. There are many homes and they are visions of such beauty with a good story to go with each one. Oh my, how the trellises reaching towards the sky are filled with such marvelous vines and tall rose bushes. Purple and pink wild flowers that are a sight for sore eyes. So close to your neighbors and sitting on balconies cheering to good food with close family and friends...
French Quarter beauty
Bourbon Street fine history
traveling flowers
You should see it at night..the street's and alley's are crawling with tourists singing and dancing to exquisite soul jazz singers, filling up every square inch of the French Quarter. A divine restaurant with fine food and many drinks. During the night you can't miss the parties and good times shared between people from all over the world. Everyone laughing, singing and dancing all night long. A once and a lifetime visit and the most remarkable citizens living free of life's responsibilities...I finally put the beads around my neck as I enjoyed the Chinese Dragon Parade...
jazz music singers
laughing, dancing, drinks in hand
having fun all night
5th Place Winner
Date Written: January 16, 2016