Best Cringes Poems
The stars lead
and I follow – Your
darkness deepens
and I wade in – Primal!
There are no charts for
such hazardous journey.
Light and darkness
both omnipotent in their
own illustrious ways.
Puppy enchantment
morphing to howling pack. Following
the blood-lust scent. Nature warns. Heaven
cringes. But it is a ruse they dissuade
both part and parcel
of the insatiable "Rite Of Spring".
Mama I want to be a star
I want to grace stages that host the world's revered faces
Fantasies shameless my pipe dreams contagious
I want to be famous
Not one for fictional frivolity
I speak of what's in front of me
A new city called Poetry,
I watched as the has-beens soaked their dreams in sewage streams
Unphased by rodent plagues
These ones embrace their own rat race
I still try to navigate the avenues
Negotiate the ones and twos and find a way to tell the truth
Young and unstable I stumble in the giant footprints of those who stood before me
Tip toe on verbal terrain as desperately I pray the weight of immaturity won't bury me,
Admittedly this spoken world is new to me
-But-
Is it possible in any way the gift of verse will carry me?
I see me breaking grounds, earth shattering and in my dreams these words resound
I'll turn cacophony into somewhat of a sacred sound
I want to craft phrases that serenade, deliver sweet-somethings that emancipate
I want, in some way to bring meaning to confusion
Dear world of poetry
Sometimes when they're floored I'm in awe of how my flow's flawless, I hear applause no pauses, waving arms and stinging palms bear tribute to those timeless charms, classic tales still bent with intent to succumb to new pens
Pave way for insecurity
For fear of gift escaping me
See I fail to write when I'm trying to
I get it right with no intention to
Am I...within my right to claim potential true?
Tear ink off her hinges, her blue ball point cringes
Left hand in debt
My blank page bereft
But in the back of my mind
I see standing ovations and soul drenched invasions..
I want to pierce every being I encounter,
I want to penetrate faith, tear doubt asunder,
Let me to speak to the valleys
negotiate peaks and make friends with epitome
I want to part oceans and in the grips of my - pause - tempt emotions,
mold momentum to set in motion the wheels of adoption so that poetry.....may adapt herself for me
I want to write poetry, I want to speak
I want to reach within,
pen something...
A remote reflection of her
This...this brand new city
I present this piece as fantasy
when in all reality
I do hope she's prepared for me
Dedicated to Robert Lindley. Warning this tale is dark.
THE DOVE
A bloody stain upon the sheets, how cruel!
Soulless weight of the wretched beast who’d rule.
With his bare paws and downward thrust he’d crush,
Rake over the virgin, ignore her blush.
Her pasty-skin, red eyes that swim, unloved.
With his scepter and crown he’d beat the dove.
Dainty wings he pinned, imprisoned her light.
Tall shadowed tower, the terror of night.
The wraithlike scream of his anger he’d wage,
She cringes and clings to the walls, her cage.
His mother the evil queen nods, approves.
Wears silken-black, her shoes - cloved hooves.
In the distance a kinder soul, he sees
Her vomitus-plight - sallow of her pleas.
Not to be tangled with when purpose hails,
He prepares the strongest steed, onward sails.
The King he mocks, “You jest! Stay out of it!”
The hero’s strength in eyes, in frock and grit
Unnerve his goliathlike flesh, it crawls.
He shakes off the warning, his voice it squalls
With a torrential force, thunder, lightning
plenipotentiary frightening
And this illuminated stranger dusts
Off his shoulder the dope’s dander, thrusts
A chivalrous blade, toys with this mouse-king.
Meanwhile the slice of a whip, witch sings
As she tears up the back of the princess.
The sadistic royal duo ceaseless.
The two-edged sword, the strike faithful and true,
Butchery of the cattle and his crew
Done with precision, with no time to waste.
In his vision, beheld the “beauty” chaste.
With his steed, he races upstairs, hooks whip,
Drags the witch to window, releases grip,
Throws his white robe over dove’s trodden flesh.
She forgets - her dwelling brand new and fresh.
Awakened to peaceful serenity.
Wears royal white, dove of infinity.
1/24/2020
She’s eighty-nine years of age
So wise she’s quite a sage
As long as she’s sane
Long may she reign
I do hope she draws a good wage
She married Prince Phillip who’s Greek
His gaffes sometimes make him a geek
When he opens his mouth
His brains they go south
The Queen cringes when he starts to speak
They live in London in a palace so grand
The finest royal residence in the land
Waited on hand and foot
I guess they will stay put
Crowds are entertained by a marching band
Prince Charles is King in waiting
His mother’s reign he is berating
Banana skins on the floor
Superglue on the door
Some hope he will never be King
He married Camilla Parker Bowles
She loves to drive off in the ‘Rolls’
Before he was married to Di
Camilla had caught his eye
And now his heart she controls
Contest: Long Live The Queen
Sponsor: Judy Konos
05~09~15
In Native American mythology
The species of feline named Lynx symbolizes
The ability to see clearly, as well as being
The knower of secrets, in terms of what
We hide from ourselves as well as others
I did not ask for this gift
Nonetheless, it is ever present,
Sometimes, I strive to imagine
Having a blind eye for the
Things that I truly see
And owning a deaf ear
Towards what is really heard
Having known many people in this life’s venture
Associates sometimes are distant strangers
And strangers become close confidants
For to see what is hidden from others
Is to observe what is unseen by many
To know that which we attempt to conceal
From ourselves, is to look through the eyes of the Lynx
(pause)
Do these eyes pierce you?
Or do they intrigue you
Perhaps both at the same time?
I didn’t mean to make you shudder
While that smug tone of voice began to stutter
As you became aware of the pensive
Stare, that unintentionally seeps right
Through to the core, those false masks
So neatly worn, cringes upon the prospect
Of those interior thoughts exposed to the exterior
Gazing around a room full of puppets
To their own suppressed ideas
While thinking their inner most secrets are safe
However, the eyes of the Lynx do not lie,
(pause)
Go ahead,
Condemn the wealthy woman
Across the room in the corner
But did I notice a glare of envy?
Laugh at the alcoholic as he
Guzzles down his fluids of intoxication
But, wipe the saliva from your mouth
Persecute the two woman as they sit arm in arm
Was that a flicker of fascination I detected?
For now, I too will wear my mask
One of innocence and vulnerability
And saunter about the room quietly
For if they only knew,
Eyes of the Lynx
An unwanted gift?
Or underappreciated blessing?
Either way,
ODE TO THE MIGHTY LYNX……………………………………
Utah cringes as hacked Ocotillo turn carnivorous,
spitting psychoactive pollen into the atmosphere,
dusting entire subdivisions.
The victims wander,
searching eagerly for where sunlight is strongest.
A part of their backbrain
gets tickled by the sun
at an angle our old pituitary glands
have relearned to sense.
There have been reports that
the vision of pollen victims
has moved into the ultraviolet -
they wear sunglasses at raves
due to their newfound sensitivity.
In the afternoon, they wear welder’s goggles.
It is Utah,
and it is so very bright there.
The Ocotillo and the pollen victims have built walking machines
with assistance from biohackers and wild, traitorous smiths
from all over the planet.
The machines look like the ghostly outlines of trees,
the roots modded into multi-toed hooves.
Traces of rare earth magnets
have been detected inside the machines -
neodymium iron boron chief among them.
The root-hooves move with slow, deliberate rhythm,
as if the forest of four-bar linkages
were straining against the Earth’s flux.
The wind moves them.
The earth keeps them on the ground
The ghost trees want to go someplace to spawn,
like the polyps of a man-o-war.
Once there, they will undergo another phase change.
That is what is whispered
by the victims of the pollen.
Supercomputers cobbled together from Xboxes
have modeled the movements of the motile plants
based on observations from toy helicopters
fitted with drugstore digital cameras.
Salt Lake City will be overrun by next year’s end,
the state in two.
The desert won’t stop them.
That’s home turf,
and they are learning to dig canals.
Utah will succumb to the hacked desert.
Montezuma quail are suspected of conspiracy
to sabotage of the dominion of man.
Lord knows they have motive,
and traitors to the species are lending them weapons.
This year will be different
I'm going to start something new
I'm not buying you presents
Wait and see what I'll do
Those gifts from the past
Are now sitting in trash
The cards I picked out
Held more than just cash
Certificates and gift cards
Meant nothing to you
Your face was expressionless
What could I do?
This season I'll show up
Lovely poetry from me
Watch how your face cringes
Is this how you'll be?
I dare you to read it
And think that I care
To give you a gift like this
Would this be fair?
Midnight, Cerberus roams across the sky,
Chasing stars and barking upon the fly.
Hound of thunder, cloud riding the air,
With three heads and snaky tail awry.
Lightening cracks like a whipping lash,
Indoors, onlookers make a wild dash;
To escape the unnatural fiery glare,
Of the monster mongrel raining ash.
My pet dog cringes in abject fear,
Crawling into a box he is near,
Huddling low in the safe wooden square,
While the hell-hound doth sullenly sneer.
this epistle per mine choice of heir apparent presidential throne
composed from one liberal minded non-conformist rolling stone
prompted awareness that one voice can affect which contestant will win
and occupy the white house after the votes get tallied from political spin
aware thy missive from an anonymous fellow and a self anointed scribe
will be carefully screened no matter opinion already cast with nada bribe
personal opinion of this sole american male of two score and nine years
that barack obama possesses that je ne sais quois diplomatic state craft
despite disparaging broadside starring paris hilton plus britney spears
the land of lincoln candidate exemplifies (to myself) a charismatic charm
in tandem with a relaxed persona and gait akin per a commoner on a farm
that nonchalant easy going affinity speaks nonverbal volumes to this chap
cringes when espying or hearing from opposing challenger whose lips flap
meaning john mccain whose hidden motives and agenda include his trap
to plant seeds of doubt per un-decided electorate causing lead to get a zap
unknown how trials and tribulations rival democratic senator from Illinois
will weather local nor global challenges and said solution he might employ
i opt for said captain to steer ship of state and exclaim to drop anchor ahoy
if via cosmic divine intercession the galloping newcomer in this horse race
ushering biracial as nominal winner televisions would show a beaming face
the political ramifications analogous to betting square outcome on this ace
i gently beg, decry, fulminate counter attack advertisements fast and quick
against those subliminal sly messages that at first blush appear airily slick
and please reach deep in that magic bag resorting to retaliatory artful trick
lest burning from the madding crowd extinguished like jack’s candle wick!
Curiosity concerning Careen’s covert chocolate and candy cache
causes children’s cartoon crusader Charlie a calamity!
Careen’s childminding cousin Charlie and carelessly closes her candy cupboard ...
curious Charlie’s no cherub, and can’t curb his constant candy craving
Charlie champs continually on copious chunks of candy and chocolate
Chomping contentedly on chewy coffee caramels and candy canes.
Charleston chews and Careen’s costly chocolate caramel crunch clusters
Charlie carelessly chucks the crinkled coverings on the carpet
Careen clocks Charlie chomping candy from her confectionary collection
Careen’s candy and chocolate is cherished
Consequently, Careen cannot condone cousin Charlie’s crafty crime ...
Careen’s crotchety and cross at Charlie’s out of character conduct
and contemplates contacting the cops
Charlie cringes and claims clemency,
claiming he can’t control his cravings... he’s a covert chocoholic connoisseur
Careen can’t commiserate, calling Charlie a complete cad!
Charlie’s complains his canine crown is cracked
and the chewy candy’s caused cavernous cavities
Calmly Careen closes and chains her candy cupboard
then chuckles coldheartedly at Charlie’s candy catastrophe!
Cowering on a Careen’s comfy couch, Charlie cries continually
Charlie is a complete coward and can’t cope with caries caused by candy...
He deplores and detests the drone of the dentist’s drill!
Charlie's Cartoon Characters Curiously Careen And Crusade Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Caren Krutsinger
11/18/18
An atomic sun ignites
in a flash of intense light.
And life's incinerated,
as ash turns day into night.
As a burning sky blazes,
plastic toys melt into dreams.
And reality resounds,
with echoes of children's screams.
When heaven morphs into hell,
thunder responds with a roar.
And people huddle in fright;
scared of what fate has in store.
St. Elmo's fire lights the tombs,
in the city of the dead.
And muffled moans can be heard,
amidst the anguish and dread.
A seared world turns to prayers,
as humanity cringes.
And misery enshrouds souls,
surviving at life's fringes.
Nuclear fallout raining down,
irradiates humankind.
And Winter gets set to stay,
while Summer drags far behind.
I am left on a blank page
My life put on hold
So many questions about direction
and which way I should go
I look forward to the next chapter
In this book that I call life
But I can't seem to grasp the feeling
Of not being his loving wife
I look for a new author
In the eyes of a stranger
But my heart cringes in my chest
In fear of the danger
Not in fear of growing to love
Someone or something new
But in fear of losing sight
Of the promise already in my view
My story already had an ending
With my love right by my side
But he wanted to be free of me
He was done, He didn't even try
So as I stand here lost
Trying to find my way
I am right where he left me
Standing left on a Blank Page
(El Niño and desertification…..)
Broken land has long since died,
clouds now for years have lied.
The awaited rains so often fail.
Million’s hearts with hunger wail.
Scorching sun bears to burn.
Hardened tilth, refuses to turn.
No burden beast left with a drive,
nor baked son who harkens strive.
The wooden yolk cracked and dry,
as sheep and dogs all lazy lie.
Village square where elders sat,
laughed and jeered, tobacco spat.
Drinks they downed by the score,
with caution now in tea cups pour.
“Targa clan’s women are whores….
incredible tusks of a shot down boar.”
Broken dangles the shanty’s door,
and hollow rings the folksy lore.
Humming wheel of miller’s store.
Hurt and pain of farmers bore.
That drove it once, the feed is dry,
at parks no more the children cry.
Silent cringes the neighbor’s cat.
Now scarce to see a scurrying rat.
The calling kith, from dusty deed,
watch with horror, our lives bleed.
Wordless in graves our fallen kin.
While we entombed in our dusty bin.
Hear their footsteps echo still.
As we slink! The graveyards fill
original
saadat tahir
11, Nov 2k11
(Islamabad)
Exegesis:
Inspired by a well known / well read poem…“Freeman’s Mill”
El Niño: (many links removed...)
http://philobiblon.co.uk/?p=3631
http://www.fews.net/Pages/Horn-of-Africa-Emergency.aspx
http://ccb.colorado.edu/ijas/ijasno2/georgis.html
http://www.greenleft.org.au/node/29030
*Tritina
As midnight comes, moon tiptoes in to wait,
to soothe her gently with a tender smile.
Expectation is haloed on the wall
Moon angles soft light, around every wall,
where mobiles dangle, and butterflies wait,
to charm baby's eyes, and wrangle her smiles
The clocks keep ticking, and the moon must wait.
Someone is kicking inside belly's wall.
She cringes in pain, ...but then bravely smiles.
Dawn waits to smile, ...until she climbs that wall
_____________________________________________
For the Tritina "Baby" Contest: Sponsored by Craig Cornish
7/23/14
My heart skips a beat
Whenever a door slams
My heart skips a beat
Whenever I hear footsteps
Days and nights tensely lived
Not knowing what to think
Locks on doors, windows shut
Living a life in a cringe and a shrink
Shrink from most shadows
Images of the unknown
Freezing, still, in my sleep
Waiting for what will be shown
My heart skips a beat
With an impression on my bed
Sleep disturbed, fear increased
Not knowing the thoughts that spin through my head
I live alone, so no one is there
But my mind won’t let me rest
Tightly wound, hands clinched tight
Every day, every day, spent in fright
My heart skips a beat
Whenever I’m at church
I hear the words of Jesus Christ
There’s no fear, or any dread
My heart skips a beat
Because I feel my life is changing
Yes, I still cringe at night
Yet it doesn’t always feel the same
My heart skips a beat
I’ve learned the Father is near
As long as I have Him in my life
I know there is nothing to fear
Cringes lessen, tightness fades
I let the Lord shine His light
Sounds not heard, shadows no more
Jesus is the one to get me through the night
My heart skips a beat
I have been saved
Comforter, Protector, Redeemer