Best Crimp Poems
Wipe that silly grin from your face, boy
I am a woman, but certainly not a wimp
Watch me roll with the punches, tough guy
It'll take more than your words my style to crimp
Hey, babe, your style really sucks
Call that art, I have seen kids write better
Have some heart, instill it in your writes
Feel the moment, feel those letters
My feelings are there, you just may not relate
If you can't grasp my intent, too bad for you
I write from my heart, not from a man's head
I know what I'm saying, you just haven't a clue
Oh, i see you have posted another piece
Let me read and determine my thoughts
Excellent shape and so true to form
This definitely has plusses, you must be man taught
Hold on, joker, no man has influenced me
Dickinson and Teasdale are among the finest
Your thoughts on my work I'll disregard
Your views on poetry reveal your blindness
The last write you wrote, has invited my see
It has clearly shown, your writing to be
Scope, shape and the form you have written
I have scrolled to your past, and I am sorrowful smitten
No more condescending from ye on the throne?
What was it that made you feel superior?
And, furthermore, what gave you the right
To make any poet feel inferior?
Categories:
crimp, on writing and words,
Form:
Quatrain
there dwells a darkness in us all
those shadows trembling faintly
to give our dearest debt its pall
and crimp us with its careful call
life weighed oft' south of saintly ...
each 'if' decided, slight or grand
comes with a thoughtful reason
and with intent or just off-hand
in light AND dark we understand
those answers and their season ...
why do we fear this darkness so
that comes like light, to guide us?
there is a beauty there to know
a warmth, a depth, an afterglow
that shares that space inside us ...
the twilight falls in peaceful awe
and brings thru nights, so tender
the starlit nips of midnight's maw
our hazy dreams, unfettered, raw
that we, through sleep, surrender ...
we do not dwell there all the time
for light brings sight through vision
yet think of verse without a rhyme
we need that balanced id, sublime
and weigh things through decision ...
most our mem'ries start from black
though dwells there, naught a fear
just that strange and unknown lack
of light, yet light DID find the crack
and shined us straight through here ...
true darkness is not life's dear end
those depths we plumb thru death
but all bent souls that do descend
to where the lines and colors blend
'tween wrong and each dear breath ...
each dear, sweet, precious breath.
Copyright © 2021 Gregory Richard Barden
Categories:
crimp, analogy, beauty, dark, wisdom,
Form:
Rhyme
Don't open your eyes!
Horrid sounds - screams and scratching,
an odor of dour demise scrapes your senses sore,
Twisting as a retch in your gut.
Cold needle breath prickles on your nape,
seeding your marrow with ice -
Your blood with tar ...
hair up like wire on your arms,
and dread ... suffusing all ...
Dread that sits like a two-ton Buddha in your lap,
holding you as tight as mother's mercy.
But it matters not ... in darkness ...
What you can't see, can't see YOU.
Squeeze your lids close!
Crimp your eyes and strangle their gaze!
For until you see something -
Until there is undeniable proof of its existence ...
It ... just ... ISN'T.
* Schrodinger's Cat is a thought experiment related to paradox and quantum mechanics, (for more info go here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Schr%C3%B6dinger%27s_cat), though when it comes to fear, such things hold little comfort. *
Categories:
crimp, analogy, emotions, fear, horror,
Form:
Free verse
They sit there in a glass, looking so forlorn
The old lady was as gummy, as the day that she was born
She ate her food without them, her nose nearly reaching her chin
I ask why not wear your dentures, why not just pop them in.
She looked at me with horror. as though I had said a rude word
I only wear them on Sunday's so don't be so absurd.
If i wear them all the time, you won't be able to see
When I am all dressed up, it's a special day for me.
These teeth have to last me my lifetime, when in my coffin at rest
Please make sure my teeth are in, want to look my best.
So the glaring teeth look down at me, pleading they look me in the eyes
Please release me set me free, or she will use us to crimp the pies
Penned 21 April 2015
Categories:
crimp, humor,
Form:
Couplet
oh -
prithee, my
darling ...
let me hear you whisper -
mold a heart with
those perfect bows ...
crimp them, coy and parted,
ever-so-slightly -
tenderly puff that
absinthe-sweet breath
upon this delicious
eventide air ...
kiss the charmed
twilight mist into my ear,
decorated by those
little words I yearn for -
send, soft, to my
tympans and my blood,
the sublime message that your eyes
have long betrayed ...
melt my marrow with your
wishes, hushed,
my skin awash
with bumps and blushes ...
kindle my core
in fits of fiery fury ...
my mind, a mad maelstrom of
fantasies and prayers,
and your sigh, the
most exquisite gulp of air
on which to float
that bewitching invitation,
that glorious gasp
of heaven -
that wondrous, wild,
wistful whisper ...
'I want you'
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Whispers" Poetry Contest, John Lawless, Judge & Sponsor.
Categories:
crimp, analogy, imagery, love, passion,
Form:
Free verse
A true story.
Here I was,
23 or 24...
Classed an "Executive"
NYC Dept Store Chain,
"Executive" label meant
I could work overtime
For one half of my normal salary...
But a fool sees stars
Where he should see crime
Promoted "Furniture Buyer"....
Big Ticket spot....
They seemed out to prove
Smart I was not.
Big Furniture Market,
High Point, N.C.,
Invited out to dinner,
By big shot vendor....
Oh...whoop, whoop, yea!
Of course, my stuffy boss
was there,
In the next chair
At this odd restaurant...
"The Factory" it's name,
After that night,
I was never looked at the same....
Big shot, Big City....
Big Fool....
It wasn't pretty....
The menu did start
Entrees priced more
Than my annual salary
And I'm confused
There's a boiler next to me!
So this Big City Buyer,
In his $99.00 suit
Ordered a shrimp cocktail,
Oh, what a hoot!
Lights flashing....
Like Studio 54
I had no idea
What I was in for!
Got my shrimp cocktail,
Oh, I do love my shrimp!
But the lemon wedge,
Was wrapped up
My mind now a' crimp
In this decorative yellow stuff,
All fit with a bow....
How do I open it, I wondered...
I wanted to know...
But I'm a Big Shot NYC Buyer,
Sure, I've seen it all....
How dare these dumb hicks...
Have such a gall!!
I took my fork,
I took my knike....
I started trying to open
This thing like....
It meant my very life!
I was struggling,
And sweating,
And frustrated and mad
Got some of the weirdest looks
I ever have had...
These Carolina Hicks...
Out to make a fool of me...
Slowly I realized
Everyone looking at me...
My boss's eyes swollen
In shame
How dumb his young buyer
Should be in a cornfield
And call himself "Town Crier"
Eventually I learned....
This stuff was called
"Cheese-cloth"
Ridiculous I thought...
No cheddar or swiss
Like this had I ever bought...
In silence I remained
Through the rest of my meal....
To me the biggest embarrassment
To me the biggest deal....
Big City Hot Shot Buyer...
Dumb as a farm hand.....
Put in a Manhattan restaurant...
Without but a strand....
Of what was, what wasn't
Of how, and of why...
All I wanted to do
Is to crawl under a rock
And die!
(This is true!!!)
Categories:
crimp, adventure, confusion, food, funny,
Form:
Bio
i love you ...
to the cold marrow, i do
beastess of black
the art of you, ritualistic, raw
all your names wrap me, winged and wondrous
tempt me, tepid, dragon
i dream of the chase ... in timeless space
wispy, winding the world
biting my tongue with a bitter citrus
or dripping with rhythmic, parenthetical perfection
dance for me ...
break at the score, residue-righteous
engendered non-generically
come, venerated venom, and strike true
crimp, shine, bubble, breathe
sing my veins ...
hot, horrid whore of the haggard heart
neuron-nasty and aflame
a receptor conflagration, divinely devilish
i - Mad Molly's bastard son -
curse you with all i know
and woo you with my innocence, lost
i nail you to a cross of considerations and care
only to worship your ruin
the lion's paw to your Androcles, merciful
acid tears to wash your feet ...
blood to bind.
Categories:
crimp, addiction, analogy, dark, drug,
Form:
Free verse
My hands caress the curious shapes
And search for hidden cracks and nooks
Like blind men touch a lover’s face.
At last a probing finger hooks
Around the slender sandstone waist
Of a small pillar. On a ledge
I stand on tip toe. High above
My fingertips just reach an edge
That juts out sharply. And I crimp
And hold the tenuous grip and pull.
I jam my foot right in a crack,
And lift my body. I am full
Of joy and happiness. I climb!
The bloody knuckles and scraped knees
Don’t matter. As I near the top
My hair is waving in the breeze.
For contest A Body of Work
Sponsored by Viv Wigley
Body parts used (in order of appearance):
Hands, face, finger, waist, toe, fingertips, foot, knuckles, knees, hair
Categories:
crimp, mountains,
Form:
Quatrain
I observe palls of leaves, drifting on the wind
Compelling me to write, but my page keeps going limp
Fraying along straight edges, curling into crimp,
Nuanced in nature, daintiest touch rebuffs my whims
Thoughts become hesitant, so readily demurred
I scribble tenuous nothings, reflecting absent words
Cant tell which is moving, the leaves or my world
Seemingly fluxed together, synchronicity bestirs
Impossible to measure, let alone describe this scene
Small eddies all around me, vortex on grasses green,
As I look upon the tumult, my imagination reconvenes
Ink begins flowing again, and words start to scream
Disenfranchisement over, now feeling overjoyed
Balance is restored, the moment remains unspoiled
I look down at my sheet of paper, if only to recoil
Not in horror! Amazement, this little poem self compiled.
YOUR PERSONAL FAVORITE, NO. 2 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: L MILTON HANKINS
18/10/21
Categories:
crimp, allegory, allusion, analogy, autumn,
Form:
Rhyme
It could also be a return to something simple,
a world of closed loops
where kinks and corners weren't invented,
where animals mixed and organelles
slipped through each other,
eating inside each other
within impossible rooms of gelatin.
Out here, we hold the line
cold and fast. We lock and crimp sharp.
The circle is only an ideal we can't match.
The thought comes up
from the tube of body and brain.
And I want to make vows.
Promises give bones to my ameboid nature,
freeze me into a shape. Keep time from
spreading me.
I can imagine leaning back
into someone I can trust,
someone loyal. I would vow first,
pledge allegiance, then
assume it would forever be
the same and equal, a stasis.
Days would pass and pass,
morning first judgements,
afternoon fulfillments,
evening muddled driftings
and slow, graceful nights.
Categories:
crimp, age, life, time,
Form:
Free verse
Let us dine on sugar-spun moonlight:
an exquisite treat that
Fills our bellies and sticks to our teeth,
The nostalgic taste of White Rabbit candy,
Creamily sweet, wrapped in rice paper.
We shall be weightless, infinite,
Childish for once.
Regret not, my friend, for the breeze is soft tonight
As the universe exhales sweetly. It is a blissful world,
Yet it has been unkind to you.
But you were meant to sweep dried rice across
The tiled floor, to wear red shoes that crimp your toes,
To lose a lover in spite of your brilliance –
because of your brilliance,
For your lean eyes and dark hair,
Chopped bean curd and chicken feet,
Are an otherness all combined: too pungent
To be delicate, yet too commonplace to be desired.
You were meant to curse yourself, blame yourself,
Crushed by guilt, so that every breath, every dream becomes half
The splendor it was before.
Regret not those dark days, for you’ve traveled far,
Each mistake casting a warm glow over
The untrodden path your mother failed to see
As she crossed the ocean.
They have strengthened you,
Weakened you to the right consistency.
You can stretch without cracking
And harden with fire, a regal teapot
Born of humble zisha sand and water.
Relax, my dear, for I know you are tired.
Let us pause before daybreak,
For we were meant to stop here to catch our breath,
Under the wise willow tree,
And watch the nightingale glide by.
Categories:
crimp, appreciation, culture, deep, discrimination,
Form:
Free verse
I feel my ears pop,
As the light above me increases ...
Columns of purple sunshine shimmer and dance.
I swim up out of the cool, inky blackness of the depths,
And finally reach the surface, head bobbing like a balloon,
Frilly slits on my neck closing up and sealing, as I switch to breathing air.
I suck the thick oxygen atmosphere deep into my lungs, then exhale.
The detritus from my gills comes up with the first breath, and I spit it away,
(Small creatures that follow me, gobble it up hungrily ... nothing wasted).
I need not struggle swimming on the surface here -
The water's high saline level helps me float without effort,
So I lay back and stretch, relaxing my length, as if in a chaise lounge.
The bright purple sky dances with clouds, (and a couple of bright stars),
Two blood-red suns now low, nearing the horizon.
Though they never set, they do crimp the reach for many hours,
Before climbing again to make the sky near-blue.
Clouds are rarely white, (only when the suns are high),
But vary in shades from crimson to pink,
Again, depending on the time of day and moisture content.
I live above AND below the water here ...
My genetic alterations, (very expensive, thus),
Allow me to extract oxygen from air and water, easily transitioning.
I have long webbed toes and fingers to swim speedily,
Eyes that can detect ultraviolet and infrared,
And something similar to sonar, that I can search the depths with,
And also use to tap into the communication satellites,
As well as send personal messages to others here such as I,
Who have chosen the amphibious life of this purple planet.
I have a house back on the island, with all amenities,
But I rarely go there, choosing instead to spend most of my time
On or near the water, searching the depths for the edibles,
Or sleeping on the beach under the stars,
Composing music and poetry during the day, or visiting friends.
I send my work out onto the inter-world web,
It earns me enough to remain comfortable ... and happy.
But what I love the most, are the other intelligent creatures here ...
Most are "sea" dwellers, but all are non-aggressive.
Learning the language of each will take a lifetime,
But it is a labor of love, with joyous reward ...
Friendship!
Categories:
crimp, fantasy, imagination, science fiction,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
The lacquer, the tease, the crimp, of the hair
as we go out in style, mesh tops with flair
the motley choices of fashion pronounced
by the neon signs on our t-shirts no doubt.
Bobby socks and crop tops, spangled and bright,
all bangles and pearls to represent a Mardi Gras night.
The girls they did flock to the taverns in pairs,
to listen to the synthesised tunes that filled the air.
The boys, tight jeaned, and permed like a rock stars,
would enter in packs as though they were the masters,
sauntering through the ladies of lace,
one gloved with the charisma, yet held no grace.
The eighties were deemed a time out of place,
where anything goes, a retro space.
Defined by the music, the look now seems displaced,
yet there was fun and freedom when the eighties took place.
25/10/2018
Categories:
crimp, travel,
Form:
Rhyme
Oh Younger Self!
Don’t be behind at saying what you want,
Just because you never did have the font,
Regression exists in us if we fail to specify,
Objectifying later, our questions to quantify.
Believe only in the people you trust and obey,
Don’t quantify because you’re in the minority,
Remember what you’ve got, media and friends,
Treasure your relationships to make your own ends.
Just be short-sighted, only aware of the now,
Don’t aspire to be godly or sickeningly high-brow,
Crimp what you like but is wrong multitudinary,
And don’t equate true morality with the binary.
Exclude yourself to discuss your mind and trueness,
Freshness is in people who flow with goodness,
Be rejected, make do and accept low facilities,
Happiness is in your real desires and proclivities.
Categories:
crimp, future, life, me, strength,
Form:
Heroic Couplet
Tiny little waves linger on top of grandma’s pond,
they wrinkle and crimp with each shift of water-
Of this reverie on Lake Michigan I’ve always been fond,
and now I get to travel there and show my daughter.
Ruffles and ridges, pleats without an end in sight,
such beautiful movement in each corrugation-
You should see the rush in the fresh morn’ light,
they billow and shine, what a wonderful creation.
Gathering together like momma’s quilt made by hand,
furrowing and folding with each adoring dimple-
I remember watching the pond from the dry land,
man, life used to be so serene, so completely simple.
I’d sink my toes in the pebbles while feeling the ebb flow,
gentle motions of the water arising up to my calf-
We’d sing and dance with each surges high and low,
the tingling sensation always made us giggle and laugh.
Tiny little waves linger on top of grandma’s pond,
each ripple setting the scene for the next stream-
Back then my sisters and I shared such a great bond,
now those ripples are nothing but a long-lost dream.
August 29, 2017
Categories:
crimp, memory, water,
Form:
Rhyme