Best Crimped Poems
Whiskey on the rocks, advised by my doc
combats dementia, so bring on the blocks
no need for a glass; I'll have me the bottle
with a big bowl of ice this baby I'll throttle
The whiskey's gone, now a brandy'd be fine
my inside's on fire, there's a hoop up my spine
swigging from the bot comes at a price
I'll temper the fire with whole blocks of ice
The flames have been doused; rum, if you please?
my head's in a clamp; ice will loosen the squeeze
now, be a sport and pile on the ice
two bowls or more I think should suffice
Three bottlesh down, all on the rocksh
my tootshiesh are shtarting to curl in my shocksh
my shmile is chemented, my lipsh glued together
my fashe the feel and texture of leather
Twishe left, thrishe right my head ish shwinging
short, long, short, long my earsh are zinging
either I'm crosh-eyed or my brainsh have been fried
elsh why are my legsh by three multiplied?
I'm freefalling on shixh feet firmly earthed
alternating twixht lower and then upper berth
vocal chordsh tangled, shizhably crimped
I'm walking with a lishp and talking with a limp
I'm teetering-tottering or tettering-tortering
I've no clue which ish which and given up wondering
the world ish a blur; I musht be plarshtered
the liquor went down well; ishe warsh the barshtard
On all foursh – nay, twelve, I reach the bed
now I'm pondering and shcratching my head:
am I waking up or about to retire?
I shimply topple over, my whole being on fire
In the Land of Nod I'm harnessed by tether
in comely dreams of cowboys and leather
when plagued by a swishy feel in my bladder
swelling as fast as a pregnant puffadder
Abruptly awakened when a stream emanated
unable to move, still intoxicated
stuck to my bed and severely drenched
nausea ensued in the encompassing stench
How my stomach reacted I'd best not relate
suffice to say it was a full freight
soiled and hung-over, a word of advice:
liquor's fantastic but steer clear of ice
I saw fingers severed
with comically large scissors
and heads near severed
with an even larger pair,
or crimped stubbornly halfway.
I contemplated with some hurt
what I might have thought
to be my earliest loss,
and thrust myself headlong
into my first descent.
The darkest car I’d ever not seen
carried me effortlessly to my future
across snow and water at once,
in love with a girl I’d never met,
I think she loved me too.
Darkness enveloped me
in my vast empty room,
and I’d swear I killed a man
and dropped his lifeless reproach
in a dusty, uncertain old cupboard.
I wrestled the nasty black swan
and found my hero of the moment,
smaller and stranger
then I’d ever thought him to be,
and I swore to God it was him.
I dropped by the bank,
a hero of earlier moments
mirthfully gave me the gears,
as we argued the toss
he couldn’t help but have a giggle.
A giant came bearing down on me,
then went weepy and forlorn,
wailed about the love not known,
the city lights and the city streets
quietly frowned with dismay.
I stared down enemies unknown,
I was afraid and they were sure,
but I found a greater wrath,
I don’t think I killed any of them,
but I guess I probably should have.
And to this day, still not seen,
I don’t even know if it matters.
31st October 2018
Crisp ...
You lay like solemn ashes
'Neath glass ... spotless, sacred
Dried to bright hues ...
The shades of her lips in chill autumn air
(Winter, whisp'ring soft)
Edges crimped ...
Like the hems of her pleated tartan skirt
You are the vestige, precious
Of a moment ...
A final moment of love, true
Sweaty, sweet passion
That found its confluence under a vault of fire
A canopy of crumbling crimson
Wafting, weaving a rustling woodland blanket
The bed for a callow curiosity
Confusing, carnal, but perfectly imperfect
Numberless months have yet ceded to the wind
(As tender as the moons they bind)
Since I rescued you from the hood of a sweatshirt
Still, your color is unerring
And your scent is ...
Her.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Strand no 780, Any Theme, Any Form" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Strand Select V Any Form Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Writing Challenge - December - Any Poem NA'd In November 2019" Poetry Contest, Dear Heart - Wishkobi Ode, Judge & Sponsor.
( This poem was written on November 14, 2019, and N/A'd on November 22, 2019 in the Scented Leaves Poetry Contest )
Eyes still closed ...
Our sated mouths slowly parted,
And what was once cold and unyielding in my palm,
Now stood, blooming as the softness of warm lips ...
Exquisite bows of pink, supple sublimity.
Our eyes opened, and met, knowing ...
Where to first? I asked her ...
She crimped a tiny smile with her lip edges -
The rain, she answered, eyes giggling ...
Where else, silly boy?!?
A hesitation and backward glance,
(To make sure I would follow), then ...
She leapt out into the weeping eventide ...
A brief rest in the wedge of light under a streetlamp,
Then she raised her arms and twirled on one foot -
Flawlessly en retire' ...
No longer gangling and squat, but elegant and shapely -
A swan, caught in a sultry summer shower ...
Birthed of one true and faithful kiss,
Now ... my princess.
~ 3rd Place ~ in the "Fairy Tale" Poetry Contest, Alexis Y., Judge & Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Late May 2018 Standard Any Form" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
Then ...
Where were you?
Don't you know how diligently I looked ...
How I begged for fate to pity me?
Every face, every curve, every eye glint and crimped grin
I sought for that spark ... that flicker
That attenuate shimmer to the eye that would pull me IN
Deep and close and warm
Every laugh or whisper that tickled my ear
I listened, rapt ... examined, intently
For the precise affect that bespoke a rarity, pure
For the musical tone that breathed to me a song of fire
That stoked my ambition with a hunger, hot
And a craving, cold ... and keen
How many, the gazes measured and met?
Countless, the unspoken prayers for the next lover
To hold that sublime, laughing magic
That unique knowledge of what was but silliness to others
Those tiny, secret, utterly romantic musings
That ever spun in my mind and passions
Those sexy things I wrote with my fingertips, (in cursive)
On every warm surface of moonlight-swathed skin
That swam the sheets with me at night
In vain pursuit of that most precious and elusive ...
Soul mate.
Where ... then?
Now ...
In a place where it can NEVER be
You stand before me
Perfectly imperfect ... in all the ways that define me
In every aspect that I can imagine
Or that I have ever dreamed and hoped
You. Are. The. One.
Yet you are the one thing that dashes all
That plunges my conceptions to the rocks
And turns true love to hopelessness
Oh, how I wish I'd known you
Then ... when I was young
For now you are the one thing I can not accept ...
The only thing that could now crush me
Another's.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "That Was Then This Is Now" Poetry Contest, Silent One, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Wish I Knew You When I Was Young" Poetry Contest, Julie Leigh Rodeheaver, Judge & Sponsor.
Enchanted was I with a cloying scent...
whiffs of wild magnolia
mingled with the woodsy tang
of her lemon verbena perfuming the air
Like Samson's strength, the sun's threads of gold
were clipped by silver shears
of an ascending pearlescent moon
How sweet the bloom of love ~
We slowly walked around the lake
By the zenith of eventide
we were serenaded by a cicada symphony
in rhythmic allegro thrum...
In the distance... howling of a feral creature
crying with need of a mate
How wild the passion of love ~
She tensed at his wailing call
soothed with murmurs and kisses
Her heart beat in sync with my own...
tympani drums keeping time
like the pendulum of a metronome
How musical the lyrics of love ~
Her eyes met mine...
mirroring myriads of sparkling stars
gleaming as bright as a prismed diamond
I would pledge my troth tonight...
Here, beneath a celestial bower
How heavenly the gift of love ~
A tendril of long wavy hair
blew across her cheek
I crimped it around my finger
then released a raven curl
My lips whispered softly...
I bent to her like a willow to the shore
How eager the need of love ~
When I knelt
she trembled at my intent...
Bodies clinging, we swam fathoms deep
surrendering to each other as eternal lovers
passionately torrid... reverently tender
How plumb the depth of love ~
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
March 23, 2021
Eight Word Bardenesque Challenge
Sponsored by John Hamilton
Hell-and-gone, my dreams are the bane of angels
Crimped with light, yet ceded to swim in shadows
Darkened wings that tremble with aching portent
Yesterday's heaven
I'm the fool that wandered the Van Gogh grasses
Just a jest, with love made there in the meadow
Callow flesh, thus burning for more than sunlight
Merging in madness
Bright and light, on toe-shoes a girl came dancing
How she twirled, with tempo to set my heartbeats
Dark desires through waterfalls and the moonlight
Joined at the marrow
Life did cleave us, bound to a course its choosing
Washed and swept by fates to a distant shoreline
Breaths and death left nothing to us but distance
Partings, unspoken
'Leave them gone', those angels now softly whisper
Broken dreams are nightmares so left unspoken
Turn your head to sight your eyes on the moment
Wisdom's sweet burgeon.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Sapphic Stanza With A Jux" Poetry Contest, Craig Cornish, Judge & Sponsor.
~ Hey, Karin - returning your note ~
Perhaps I'm not your type, alas
But I'm behind you, here in class
Adoring each and every thing you do
The way you talk, so soft, yet clear
And tuck the tresses 'hind your ear
(The hair I'd love to run my fingers thru) ...
I love the way you tilt your hip
And always bite your bottom lip
Whene'er you get excited or annoyed
The way you pass me little notes
Crimped origami birds and boats
Advising me which girls I should avoid ...
For me it's not the threads or bling
It's each sweet, steamy little thing
That other guys don't care about at all
And yet, if added, two-plus-two
They make for one amazing YOU
(The enigmatic YOU I'd love to call) ...
You might not know me very well
A semester - long enough to tell
I'm apt to always treat you with respect
You're quite romantic, just like me
And know that love can someday be
As faithful as two hearts can thus affect ...
So, if I may, I'll start this task
As rhyme and meter, meant to ask
If you might give us just an evening each?
Perhaps a steak house, Japanese
A theater then - that new release
And then a peaceful walk along the beach ...
The stroll may seem a bit too soon
But sad to waste that lovely moon
And what romance it weaves, no one can tell
I hope you'll flip this page and write
You'd love to date me, (Friday night)
But quickly now, before they ring ...
The bell!
~ 1st Place ~ in the "School Time Crush" Poetry Contest, Faraz Ajmal, Judge & Sponsor.
~ This poem did NOT place ~ in the "Crushed" Poetry Contest, Anthony Biaanco, Judge & Sponsor.
Enchanted was I with a cloying scent...
whiffs of wild magnolia
mingled with the woodsy tang
of lemon verbena perfuming the air
Like Samson's strength, the sun's threads of gold
were clipped by silver shears
of an ascending pearlescent moon
How sweet the bloom of love ~
We slowly walked around the lake
By the zenith of eventide
serenaded by a cicada symphony
in rhythmic allegro thrum...
In the distance, the howling of a feral creature
crying with need of a mate
How wild the passion of love ~
She tensed at his wailing call
soothed with murmurs and kisses
Her heartbeat in sync with my own...
tympani drums keeping time
like the pendulum of a metronome
How musical the lyrics of love ~
Her eyes met mine...
mirroring myriads of sparkling stars
gleaming as bright as a prismed diamond
I would pledge my troth tonight...
Here, beneath a celestial bower
How heavenly the gift of love ~
A tendril of long wavy hair
blew across her cheek
I crimped it around my finger
then released a raven curl
My lips whispered softly...
I bent to her like a willow to the shore
How eager the need of love ~
When I knelt
she trembled at my intent...
Bodies clinging, we swam fathoms deep
surrendering to each other as eternal lovers
passionately torrid... reverently tender
How plumb the depth of love ~
my friend,
beacon, bright ...
how you have bewitched my years,
dancing on the wall of my room since my first memory,
a warm sweep of security and steadiness,
never failing - ever true ...
blinking me to sleep each night like a prayer -
"I'm here! - I watch! - You're safe!"
I wonder ...
are you really a warning?
Or do you wink your sparkling eye
only to taunt the unwary prey at sea?
Schooners, barques, cutters, and frigates,
wagging their masts like bony fingers,
admonishing you for your questionable intent.
How many have fallen for your treachery in ages past,
turned to driftwood and terror by your crimped and craggy skirt?
Not even Neptune's raging ire can affect your flicker,
for you have stood, steadfast and bold,
through the wickedest of gales ...
splitting the beastly billows with dire disregard,
and turning the tempest's tides
to naught but foam and spray.
But your days are numbered, old friend,
the world spins far too fast these days for your kind ...
your lights being snuffed by digits and dials,
and the indifference of technology.
But I shall remember you ...
your pulse will live on in my mind,
and in the hearts of all those who knew you -
all those who survived for your sake ...
and numbered your glinting gaze.
Broken, this aged vessel
fractured by fate in matter and mind
careworn and cracked like creeping veins of window frost ...
(but colder in my solitude, I surmise)
Oh, but wholly blessed on the surface, really
no furrows or folds or wrinkly crows
hardly a dozen gray hairs, but for goatee' ...
(winter taking hold there, evidently
the once fiery and fervently experienced lips
put to the frigid air of the disinterested and forsaken)
Too proud, really, that I look twenty years my lesser
for it reaps naught but envy ...
(when I yearn for naught but love)
Yes, the porcelain facade still reflects the sun
but ONLY that, then back to whence it came
the warmth seeps not, and oh the splintered shell within
shards as sharp and crimped as British wit
whether by bent or happenstance or horrid folly ...
(they are as defined as they are hidden
as black as they are white
as cursed as they are blessed)
A hundred and more, they are a memory, each
a pain, a tragedy, a misstep, a ravaged heart given fully
returned with but a wish and a wave
but you see, those cracks and breaks and chips
all carefully mended ... with gold ...
(caring friends, exquisite joys, profound experience, loving family
hope, faith, renewed self-respect, and a million little things
that may pass others unnoticed
but to me, are the lifeblood of existence)
They fill the seams with the most wonderful precious metal
and that broken, shattered soul is healed
made whole by what is truly valuable and lasting
far more formidable and beautiful and priceless ...
(with the wisdom of breakage and healing
and all the myriad lessons learned in the process)
Than it ever was ...
(than I ever was)
Before.
Submitted on April 4, 2020
To the "Strand Choice Z, Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest
Brian Strand, Sponsor.
( For those not familiar with the ancient Art of Kintsugi, please take a moment to check it out - it represents a model for life that is very special - strengthening through adversity. Here's a link: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kintsugi )
As eventide drew its curtains
around us,
there was nothing tame about it
when I went into
the woods with him,
for even though the moon beamed
pearlescent in its inky sky,
the wind was howling through the trees.
And though the weather -
for the bluster of the wind -
was inclement,
I could not deny my growing ardor.
As if in tune with the wind,
we pressed ourselves
like feral creatues of the shadows
against each other.
We fell beneath an oak
whose constant rustle of leaves
became a metronome that measured
our two hearts’ steady thrum.
Stronger and then stronger still,
the oak’s leaves fluttered
as I rolled with him in ecstacy
on the forest’s floor.
It was as if he had the ability
to plumb the very depths of my desire.
I look back on that night remembering
the every passionately delicious detail
and how even the next day,
the tang of his lips on mine
remained.
Decades later, I reminisce about
– like the worn pages
of an intensely romantic journal entry
that have many times been
unfolded and then refolded -
the memory of that night
which he crimped within my mind.
April 4, 2021
for John Hamilton's
Eight Word Bardenesque Challenge Poetry Contest
she stood up ...
reached across the table to
pinch his cheek -
two small red spots grew where
she had crimped his
dark-whiskered flesh ...
"Now they match ... scoundrel!"
for there flamed two more crimson
marks on the opposite side
where the other had pressed her
pretty plum bows just
a moment before ...
they both walked slowly away from him
in different directions
swaying like serpents 'for a flute
every eye affixed to their
coy affectations
and the suggested treasures that
moved beneath the pleated finery, draping ...
he quickly finished the
cold, green shot of absinthe
in his hand, and considered the question
that now faced him ...
which desirous, compelling, wholly
dangerous creature would
he follow?
broken, this aged vessel
fractured by fate in matter and mind
careworn and cracked like creeping veins of window frost ...
(but colder in my solitude, I surmise)
oh, but wholly blessed on the surface, really
no furrows or folds or wrinkly crows
hardly a dozen gray hairs, but for goatee' ...
(winter taking hold there, evidently
the once fiery and fervently experienced lips
put to the frigid air of the disinterested and forsaken)
too proud, really, that I look twenty years my lesser
for it reaps naught but envy ...
(when I yearn for naught but love)
yes, the porcelain facade still reflects the sun
but ONLY that, then back to whence it came
the warmth seeps not, and oh the splintered shell within
shards as sharp and crimped as British wit
whether by bent or happenstance or horrid folly ...
(they are as defined as they are hidden
as black as they are white
as cursed as they are blessed)
a hundred and more, they are a memory, each
a pain, a tragedy, a misstep, a ravaged heart given fully
returned with but a wish and a wave
but you see, those cracks and breaks and chips
all carefully mended ... with gold ...
(caring friends, exquisite joys, profound experience, loving family
hope, faith, renewed self-respect, and a million little things
that may pass others unnoticed
but to me, are the lifeblood of existence)
they fill the seams with the most wonderful precious metal
and that broken, shattered soul is healed
made whole by what is truly valuable and lasting
far more formidable and beautiful and priceless ...
(with the wisdom of breakage and healing
and all the myriad lessons learned in the process)
than it ever was ...
(than I ever was)
before.
How large the pearlescent sun seems today.
Yet it is dying, its flaming rays ineffective.
After a long hot day, tired, it must be spent.
So patiently it descends out of humanity’s vista,
Far across the sea, behind the shimmering horizon.
We enjoyed the calm stillness of eventide.
Quietly the moon takes its rightful place.
Shining in a wan mysterious way,
Night intensifies as stars twinkle all around,
Above gardens plumb in the middle of the vale.
How we adored the perfume of so many flowers,
Especially the crimped fuchsia edged white star flowers.
The moon lightening effulgently the rugged paths
Of the mysterious countryside around,
Fragrance everywhere with a gentle tang.
On mountains far away feral dogs howling their random growl,
While countless cicadas commence their orchestrated song,
Hell bent on mating before their adulation time is up.
It is good we need have no hurry, dear,
So, we can relish our time together.
With a small mandolin I thrum a love song,
As we huddle close under the banyan tree,
Fireflies dance their intricate dance.
I snuggle my head against your soft cheeks.
How smooth and pleasant it can be,
As our lips meet and savour our delight.
Dreaming of our future and days to come.
16 March 2021
Placed 2