Best Crumpling Poems
Rocking Chair
(The Autistic Child)
Born with walls constructed in her mind,
She keeps the world and all its threat at bay,
Inside her rocking chair day after day,
A month, a year, an hour, no sense of time
Just rocking, rocking all her life away.
Christmas comes and presents pile around
Her chair; she sees the paper, shining, colors bright;
She reaches for the red, the blue, the white.
She revels in the crumpling paper sound--
Just rocking, rocking in her endless night.
The family gathers for the festive meal,
She will not leave her chair, her treasured place,
The never-ceasing motion of her private race.
She’s rocking in her solitary reel,
An empty stare on her unchanging face.
But what is this, her sister’s gentle hand
A soft, accepted touch , a simple smile,
“I want to sit with you a little while”--
Contact made without seeming to demand
They rock together—a stationary mile.
At the center of the hurricane blast, within the lightning
Flash lies the wicked eye of the calming storm, a weeping
Echoing of a widow maker’s somber moment, stilled by
Frozen remembrance lost beneath the traitorous waves
Of a broken heart!
Lantern lights cast an eerie shadow across the desolate
Sand dunes, in silences isolation this prisoner of passions
Tempest refuses to admit loves vanquished flame, yelling
Against the howling storms hellish rage, I’ll not give him up,
You’ll not taketh my beloved’s spirit away!
Rolling is the tides of forget-me-knots folly, a crushed
Rose crumpling beneath the harsh torrents lash!
Rushing at accelerations cyclone speed the clouds
Of destructions malice, charge at she, yet loves
Devotional stands strong, held by the anchor rooted
Within cherishes everlasting spiritual longing!
The grappling fingers of an angry aquatic under sea lord,
Thrashes unmerciful at the rocky edges of death’s
Blackened hand slamming, hammering against destiny’s
Grave stone of reality’s forsaken!
The lanterns light flickers for a seconds hushed pause,
Here in that momentary lull passion faces vengeance,
In a war of the faded roses, no one wins except the
Tears of the storm!
Bitter flowery petals cling onto the rocks of desires
Sheltering cove beyond, as two faded shades
Silhouettes meet amongst the waves of the vanquished!
But in loves torrential rain united, no power on earth
Or in hell’s feverish pitch, shall separate these spirits forever Bound within the human heart, for true love concurs
All!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
I'm sitting cross legged on the side of the road
while Dad holds my shoulders, in trying to console me,
but tears, uncontrolled, keep tumbling down.
Most stunning, right now, is the fear, I've not known
Never before, .....had I felt so alone.
Reality has settled, like darkness around me
A first-time encounter with death and it's toll
Though, how many times, I have played out the role?
It was always the same.....
Just a game to be played
The drama? Just kid's-stuff.....who knew what it meant?
Bang, Bang you're dead!...
Point a finger .... he's dead
A stab, rubber swords, ... at my eight year old heart ?
While slowly, with drama, we played out the parts
Our death scenes, .....pretending to take a last breath
Then, back on our knees, and up in a flash
ready again, to reverse all the rules......
Death wasn't real........and never this cruel
Tonight, driving home
a deer out of nowhere,
A thump, and a jar, a flash in the light
And in the dash of a moment, ....a crumpling crash
Make-believe shatters, in the path of our car
Dad reaching his hand, to check I'm alright
Then opens the door out into the night
Reluctantly I follow his somber silhouette
And met by a moment I'll never forget
The air bitter cold, has taken our breaths
I turn eyes away, but now it's too late
Glass lifeless eyes stare back in the lights
I'm strangled by silence, and the shattering sight
as still and cold, as real as if stones,
The deer's lifeless eyes, stare into the night
I feel such a change in the stars and the sky
I felt something die, in a child's heart tonight
_____________________________________________
9/1/15
Carrie Richards
For Trashed #2 Contest: Sponsor: Broken Wings
~~
Hand in hand they meander through the deserted lane,
freshly fallen snow crumpling under foot
Littering the sky, Bright stars, glittering like coins on a belly dancers belt,
slowly surrender to the coming dawn
Inch by measured inch the glory of Ra overpowers the starlight.
In a pale blue sky, a pale golden disc, the colour of ripe oats at harvest time,
looking close enough, and cool enough, to reach out and touch.
Brilliant rays, arrows of liquid gold, capture the pristine landscape,
splintering like a million shards of shattered glass.
No sound, only silence, profound, in the clear crystal air.
In the distance, a cock crows.
Long morning shadows cast by tall pines,
revealing a lone stoat, resplendent in his ermine coat.
Emerging from shade, merging with sunlight,
loping across the virgin snow with bounding grace.
White on white,
only the black tip of his tail and tiny footprints betraying his presence.
In the distance, a dog barks,
A small cottage, a stone chimney, a whisper of smoke announcing a new day,
A hardy little robin pecking with determination to uncover water under ice.
A door slams, the robin takes flight.
Snow slides from the roof to gather in piles like miniature Himalayas.
Icicles drop pearls as the thaw sets in. The world is awakening.
In the distance, a train whistles.
Still holding hands they walk on.
~~
"Felt"
some people
have magic
in their bones
it speaks
another language
silencing the
Kurdaitcha Man
seen pointing
unnecessarily
without conviction
time is ours
in this endless place
we circle rings
rippling our marks
deep within trees
depositing stories
they breathe
us in
we breathe
them out
gifting
their leaves
we fall softly
crumpling
under others’ feet
the stories
conveyed
and transferred
replenish and feed
the microcosm
to become
something
much larger
some people
have magic
in their bones
it speaks
another language
it is felt
not seen
falling softly inside
we become lighter
rising like myths
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
Within these walls
The walls were too high
Unable to break through
I struggled and fought
With determination
Oh God how I tried
I climbed so high
You remained locked inside your walls
Your past still haunting
Scars still healing
The pain you know
Re-occurrence you fear
The walls were too wide
Bridges too weak
Crumpling under the weight
Suffocating
Choking us with the debris
I walked the universe in your shoes
Understood your pain
My heart desperate to comfort yours
Relinquish your ghosts and your sorrow
Bestow you with my soul
Prove myself
Free you from your castle walls
The walls were too heavy
Crushing my dreams into rocks
They destroyed us
Trampled our emotions
Broken bridges
No way across
We got so far
Just one last hurdle
Too much and too soon
We are rubble
Just dust
Cremated but still living
Lost and alone
I tried so hard
But failed in the end
I struggled and fought
But I lost
You remain locked
Deep inside your walls
A human tragedy
Trapped by his own fears
You are now past
A memory in my heart
One I will never forget
My love will not waiver
Patient until the end
I will always be there
If and when
You are ready to let me in
Complaining of his marriage for thirty-odd years
He highballed his eyeballs, comforting his tears
The barkeep asked, what's troubling you son?
He poured out his life; I'm finished! I'm done!
The woman I married has turned into a nag
What I wouldn't give to be rid of that hag
Cheer up my friend, I have what you need
I know of a man willing to do such a deed
Artie's his name, a factory blue collar
He enjoys his hobby, charging only a dollar
Introducing himself, he sat on a stool
Please dear sir, don't think me a fool
I need your help, if you're willing and able
Sliding his wife's picture across the bar table
The love we once shared is impossible to find
Everything she does drives peace from my mind
For a dollar Artie agreed to get rid of his mate
She shops Farmer's Mart tomorrow, precisely at eight
The very next morning she parked the front aisle
Artie gazed at her picture, then waited awhile
He stalked her while shopping the produce section
The near-empty store posed slight risk of detection
With a look to his left, and a quick glance to his right
He crept, then he leapt, choking with all of his might
She swooned and she swayed, crumpling to the floor
Artie mused to himself: Attention! Cleanup, aisle four
A stock boy rounded the corner, witnessing the mess
Artie likewise dispatched him, in a minute, or less
A customer screamed, seeing this deed, dark and vile
With hands around her throat, he added her to the pile
The manager called the cops, who put Artie in jail
There, he awaited trial, unable to post bail
The following day's headlines gave readers a start:
"Artie chokes three for a dollar, at local Farmer's Mart"
“The Fixer”
While clearing gutters of the autumn leaves
I was pushed by a wintery stiff breeze
Falling from ladder, by freak circumstance
Crumpling into flatness by haphazard chance
I felt a beer can directly under me
Memory of him, forever would be
For my Grandfather had tossed it there last
Discovering it flat, from days past
From bikes and cars, to rusty door nobs
As to how to fix their thing-a-ma-bobs
All would come for his consultations
For he was the fixer, of all contraptions
While others would tinker for hours into night
Grandfather would always have the divine light
Scarcely even did anyone ever say
That Grandpa needed more time than a day
He was a helper, a handyman, a friend
Sadly he died of his drink, come the end
I'm trying to write about something specific for a change.
''I'm bored, and suffocating in a desert
Of dull yearnings that gulp down my stale breath
Full of futile words.''
No. I'm drowning again in absurdity and saying
Nothing. I need something
Specific. Meaningful.
''I'm trying to create meaning on the paper,
Crumpling sheet after sheet, the lost words
Mourning for irretrievable primary
Sensation which once urged me to continue
Writing, rather than crush the pencil that so many times left
No trace at all save for the void forming the words -
Long since gone...''
I start afresh, this time without superfluous evocations.
Nothing. Makes. Sense. It doesn't have to.
The present. Is. Dark. There will be a better tomorrow.
Not sure. If I'll be. You know you will.
I'm alone. With my words. You'll always be.
Words don't make sense when thoughts wait for their permission.
Can I think about something specific for a change?
There are not enough words.
They disappear. When you think. About yourself.
Scowl from a Fowl
Everybody had been saying their blessing
Started to eat turkey filled with dressing
Along with some salad and cutup tomatoes
And my favorite which is sweet potatoes.
Ate crisp piece of bread without crumpling
Discovered how much I liked apple dumpling
Which is what we had towards the end
And turkey wishbone we tried to bend.
Longer the length always better the luck
And a turkey I never have tried to pluck
When it stopped running all over the place
He was left with terrible look on his face.
Teeth loosened as days of life did increase
And we ended up eating macaroni and cheese
Never again to see a face with a big scowl
Worn by tough turkey who once was a fowl.
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran
www.poetrysoup.com
Name: jthorn5656
Password: *soldierboy*
In asterisks and one word
in small letters
I love the wind
Blowing softly against my face,
Fanning it on a hot Summer’s day,
Stirring my hair;
Making the branches and leaves quiver
And the grasses to dance and sway,
And all the while
Whispering a soothing melody
If one but listens intently.
I hate the wind
Roaring violently,
Making the branches and leaves fall,
Bending the grasses till they break,
Whipping the dust around
That stings the eyes,
Finding its way through nooks and crannies,
And whistling an eerie tune
Auguring a storm.
I’m scared of the wind
Blasting at everything in its path,
Causing whole trees to tumble,
And flattening grass, blossoms, and all;
Generating huge waves
That claw their way to shore;
Crumpling poles, posts, and walls,
Howling and shrieking like a banshee,
And snatching the life of the unwary.
April 23, 2023
Among 1st Place
Writing Challenge - ‘W’ Words - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
I had a dream where nothing
was what it seemed.
It was dark and then too bright
and all my words left my mind.
I saw a bright beam where
everything was what I’d
deemed.
The darkness fell over the
shadows and swallowed
everything that was kind.
The light fled and tomorrow
was a treasure I just knew I
had to find.
Yesterday was lost and
everyone stood with a great
amount in cost.
It was sad and it was glad, but
everyone threw it up for a toss.
Passing through time with
glimmering bright lights,
Where were the dark lonely
nights?
Flash-backs timing the tracks
as most folks fell through tiny
little cracks,
Each one flashed back on top
of crumpling down broken old
stacks.
Then it was cold and then it got
hot.
Today was here and being
blotted out like a tiny black
dot.
Flash-backs and flash-backs
sending millions tracks of light
to never forget me not.
®Registered: 2003 Ann Rich
~~~
Summer
Hot sultry
Scorching burning de-hydrating
Breeze rustles the leaves
Sunny
Rain
Fresh
Drizzling Refreshing invigorating
Freshness in the leaves
Monsoon
Autumn
Bereft dull
Crumpling fading descending
Break off, the leaves
Fall
Winter
Harsh cold
Snowing chilling
Blizzard burying leaves
Frost
Spring
Colourful beautiful
Blooming blossoming flowering
Green are all the leaves
Vernal
~~~
Swirling about are the loved ones
And the guy next in line
And your tiny congregation
Of friends.
That one face you put on
It may have different expressions,
But just one face.
The you that puts it on
Is so different.
It's the scared child
Hiding behind the recliner
When your ears bleed
And your dad screams drunkenness.
The you that puts on that one face
Is the teenager who takes that first hit of pot
Because your friend Jeff said so.
The you that scrapes up the courage
To put on that face is the beer dude
At the sports bar, farting and belching just to be heard.
Keeping your masterbatory fantasies to yourself.
And as your skin becomes drier
The you that frames that face for everyone,
Is the young groom, walking down the aisle to a mistake
That only you can't see.
The ever widening man boy who gave some sperm
In exchange for a child you could never love as much
As they need to be loved.
And you see that face with bags of baggage under those eyes
Look back at you in the mirror every morning and you stare
And wait for the visage to change, but it won't.
It can't.
That face that laugh's on time for your worst best friend's joke
Is in front of the brain that is addicted to suffering and pain.
It's fond of taking the good and crumpling it up until
It is bad, over and over again.
So it is for that face and that brain and that ever self
Torturing soul, that we say death is not for the gloomy rain,
But to wash away our sin of trying to be just a bit happy.
One tiny finger poking through the hole in her
happy kitten mitten
touching window frosting chill
delicate fragile fingertip
aching for the warmth
on the other side
~~~~~
Cooly folded.
One atop the other.
Elegantly cultivated confidence.
Quietly calm.
Resting art in their beauty.
Eternally in peaceful repose.
~~~~~
Grizzled grumpy and stumpy. Used
and useful. Scarred, calloused,
nails bitten to the quick and still
dirt finds its way beneath. And with the
delicacy of a hummingbird extracting its meal
from a bloom, clumsy mits gather a bouquet
of buttercups, tulips, lilacs, honeysuckle and tears
to lovingly place upon her grave ~
~~~~~
Frozen little nose joined
fingertip on window longing
chattering chin accompanies
quivering knees in the saddest tune
crumpling ...
Oh
Grizzled hands, loving hands
wrap kitten mittens in aching
longing
and gently carries her to the inside
warm.