Best Cumbersome Poems
Enroling you a worm (cumbersome and)
hairy, you- scimitar of leaves
Knows the pain ,writhing pupae
Abandoned and convicted
Constricted hanging straightjacket
Squirming like a jackrabbit
Gagged nocturnally - blindfold humility
Rejected by those mocking moths
and jealously believing left the key
Both found our grace on bended knees
..left there dangling from a tree..
Unhinge now those spinakers of glory
Pretty - flaky- flinder
Streaked in splatters paint
Dust of the fairies
Gaze at me with criss-cross eyes
Innocent beauty oh ye butterfly
Spiny antennae, stretching out transmitters
Taking flight so easily
Flitting off with no goodbyes
To a newer afternoon over there
Dashing in the sun
Kneeding and gouging all those zinnias
Joy! Slurping up the nectar
Whisky! Tequila! Brandy and Champagne!
Swops them for a chorus of pansies
Dancing blooming flowers
Crazy blessed colours
Bouncing delight.- erratic in flight
Dodging in between the bees
O enchanted mystic butterfly
Only pausing for a while
Hold me in your spell
For you walked that crooked mile
Linger in this dream
So seldom comes to see
Just as you, my timepiece too
Is coiled in spring
A dustpuff within the wind
Specked all over pollen confetti
Envied now by every moth
Suicidal circle - one kamikaze candle
Seared and singed and slowly fried
Getting what theyre vetted for
But the sun his laughing in his sky
Beseeching all the yet to open flowers
Awake !Awake!
An angel is coming by
Categories:
cumbersome, angel, beauty, butterfly,
Form:
Free verse
Daylight is greeted with the horrific stench of food chunks
swimming in stomach acid, dribbling onto bed sheets.
Accompanied with the embarrassment of
brown syrup puddle stains.
Head is pounding
like a hammer - hammering nails into the skull.
Cumbersome movements drag drowsy flesh to the mirror,
as bloodshot eyes with yellow hue, glare in reflection.
Exhausted hands rub dense stubble,
as heavy eye lids struggle to stay open.
A cocktail of coffee and a cold shower
comfort this somber slumber.
Mouthwash and mints help disguise
the fragrance of yesterday's session with Bourbon.
Continuous sips of water, attempt to quench sultry thirst,
but the blandness cannot douse untamed flames.
Especially as days consist of sitting
surrounded by monotonous blank walls,
and staring at cracks on a vase -
silently watching wilted flowers crumble.
Struggling to defeat temptation from fermented demons,
summoned by cravings for that burning sensation,
the tongue cries for mercy.
Infiltrates the mind luring it to
lust for sour liquid passion
that infuses the bloodstreams.
Hands trembling, parched lips quivering -
only golden nectar can ease the pain.
No need for a glass, as bottle is devoured,
with momentary pauses of 'aaahhhhh.'
So begins the daily quest,
to suffocate every sorrow.
To feel numb upon request,
with no care for tomorrow.
Favouring fantasy over reality,
each drop kills the pain.
The bitter sweet taste is a lethal injection,
but the numbness helps to feel perfection.
In a place where nobody notices -
alcoholic symphonies lead to intoxicated sympathy.
To deal with being alone, to forget the world,
to forget the name.
Envious eyes can be a crime,
leading to jealous tendencies.
Hiding secrets can lead to becoming a victim
to a self inflicted demise.
An empty bottle leads to remorse.
Bitter sweet tears roll with shameful giggles.
Now the cracked vase looks perfect with flowers blooming.
Inebriant melodies mock the mind.
Attempting to dance, legs stumble and crash to the ground.
Laying there on the floor - laughing.
Then crying hysterically.
The heart has no desire to be sober,
only to remain intoxicated until death.
The Silent One
20 October 2017
Categories:
cumbersome, addiction, angst, dark,
Form:
Free verse
In my hunger,
I saw a hallucination of heaven.
From afar, visions of a golden glow,
lustered, lingering above a crowded crossroad.
This aura of agave aromatherapy,
left an amorous aroma of romantic ruminations,
so I became a devotee, desiring her divinity.
But, such was her evanescent existence,
those effervescent eyes now seem ephemeral.
Adrift in the angst of absence,
I feel the lament of an autumn leaf,
yearning to be evergreen, clinging to your stalk.
Or to sharpen and shape like a tenacious thorn,
honouring your rosso corsa, roseate radiance.
If I was a polyamorous poet,
my abundance of adjectives and alliterations,
would be disloyal like daylight,
so my vibrant vocabulary vows to
allegorise you in my anthology of analogies.
My mellifluous muse, I care not if
your verses are vintage or virginal,
as you are my most memorable metaphor -
the assonance to compliment my consonance.
In your majestic moonlight, I'm fluorescent,
portraying a perpendicular penumbra,
craving for you like a citrine crescent
hoping to become complete.
I'm a bard with a baritone ballad,
blossoming words like spring sepals,
into a boundless bouquet for my beloved,
so remove the veil behind your verbs and
reveal your velvet vermilion lips once more.
There is an alluring art to an aubade.
In an aureolin and amethyst aurora,
our lantern of love will forever scintillate,
serenading in smooth and soothing susurrus sounds,
soaring in a serene sapphire sky,
ascending like a saffron sunrise sonata
and if cumbersome clouds,
colour horizons in charcoal,
delicately descend, pouring in holy drops,
soaking my soul like spilling ink
on unblemished ivory fibers.
Categories:
cumbersome, assonance, love, romance,
Form:
Alliteration
Away from the fever and fret of life
In absolute stillness, in abject surrender
Looking into the core of my being
In deep silence and solitude
In an ardent gesture of adoration
I was in dialogic communion with God.
In that divine setting, I heard the spirit whisper,
“Shear off the cumbersome, get down to the essentials.
Petty fears and petty pleasures are just shadows.
Search not for the transitory but seek the eternal.”
A rare quiet flooded in and engulfed me
The window of my soul opened to light,
And the hidden well springs were revealed to me.
I became part of the silence, merged with the harmony.
In my nothingness, I found my all.
‘Heard the harvest song of inward peace.’
Never was a moment more perfect!
Under the ‘Bodhi’ tree, that moment stood alone!
Categories:
cumbersome, devotion, silence, solitude,
Form:
Free verse
I stay close to home these days,
my roaming needs seeming to
expire with age, finding more
of what I need in the Silence
of packing; of course, this
worn-out body is far too cumbersome
to even contemplate wanting – like
frayed clothing, now best for rags;
like empty cans for the recyclable:
I wonder how Earth will handle
my re-purposing?~as for my poetry,
will my works know future lips? Be
Whispered and sung, inspiring others
fancying fireside light and chat, within
the warmth of flickering, yet mysterious
shadows? Or will my words, unceremoniously
settle like bird droppings on tombstones,
surrounded by laurels of weeds, a forgotten
chapter? That settles it, I will opt for cremation!
Leaving tombstones and graves for
most politicians, TV Evangelists, and
Movie-stars, needing their world
monuments where the Devil will
easily find them for substantive
reunions....
Categories:
cumbersome, death, humorous, introspection, poetry,
Form:
Prose Poetry
The hours grows late and so the night bodes ill,
Another man falls, he did drink his fill.
And what fate do the streets take,
When the night cracks with a dawn break?
The rotten and unwanted fate,
Resented and repelled too late.
When the breath of man became disgrace,
Habitual of a hollow, heathen race.
And the cumbersome unrest of drunken sleep,
With a final sigh the streets does sweep.
Here unbidden wretches mark out their day,
In this sorry place they waste away.
As the city shifts focus from watchful eyes,
Concealing its dirt beneath painted lies.
Without a sound each night exhumed,
Then ritual veneer polished and re-assumed.
Categories:
cumbersome, peoplenight, night,
Form:
Rhyme
Blithe fools traipsing through bleary hollow
Airy sprites in hovering tents shadow
Brooding sylvan fringe shrouding light with her swaying willow
Jaded beams peep through the crenelated steeple's window
Sprouting thickets bristling with spiny tendrils each step harrow
Creepy vermin frenetically scurry under foot from burrow to
burrow
A musty dampness shivers intruders; beneath feet liken's slimy
residual doth grow
Whistling winds hauntingly whisper a doleful strain
Ominous portent overhead; hoot owls continuously bleet their eerie
refrain
Perilous pitfalls surround; ensnaring cracks, crevices unwitting lives
drain
Poisonous foliage ensconses the beaten path distilled with its
potion of pain
Jagged course nearly run; wayfarers enlightened by each
cumbersome travail
Weary itinerants seasoned on nature's, menacing plain
Pensively treading the last mile over the rough, foreboding terrain
Categories:
cumbersome, nature, people
Form:
Rhyme
Gloves don't fit my hand,
But mittens, they do,
In growing demand
Are mittens in blue,
Fingers must keep warm
In winter's cold freeze,
Or I'll come to harm,
And begin to sneeze,
Gloves are cumbersome,
They take time to wear,
And out they won't come,
When I need hands bare,
While gloves are a pest
And in fashion, old,
Blue mittens are best
For my fingers cold.
6th January 2023
For John Lawless' "Of what use are gloves to fingers that only understand mittens" Contest
Categories:
cumbersome, kid, winter,
Form:
Rhyme
I began life as a gorilla – cumbersome and chunky.
I clunked my way into situations, abrasive and loud.
I also misrepresented and misspoke.
Rapidly became misunderstood and ostracized.
Life was not working...
So I transmogrified myself into a butterfly.
Flitting from place to place, not staying long enough for enemies.
Keeping myself safely out harm’s way
Keeping my emotions inside where they began exploding
So I blew up and had to reinvent myself....
Now I am a lively, happy mountain goat.
I butt people who annoy me.
Defriending them right and left on social media.
A warrior woman mountain goat.
Living my truth, my way.
Pleased to meet you!
Categories:
cumbersome, animal,
Form:
Free verse
Heavy, bloated
bleak and blue
I tread the sands
laid under you
With swollen feet
cumbersome bags
juggling everything
I've ever had
My mouth all splinters
a broken smile
to breathe hurts and
tastes of bile
I've walked for days with
only hope, to go that extra mile.
WAR
FEAR
GENOCIDE
HATE and GREED
YOU took the LIVES of everyone
I'd ever come to love
As if you hadn't done enough
You stole
My Mum and Dad and the
baby brother I never had
my friends and family
one by one
all lined up
to face a gun
The need to survive
caused me to flee
As each were shot dead
for all to see
Blood red soil
on tainted land
oppressed and crushed
under hatreds hand
Whilst visions and dreams
sear through my mind
I scrabbled and scurried
for somewhere to hide
Heavy, bloated
bleak and blue
I tread the sands
laid under you
Blistered tongue
clumsy feet
I pray the Lord
my soul to keep
empty and broken
I dare't look behind at the
Scattered bodies
the stench of flesh
still fresh in my mind
The sun melts me down
my legs, barely hold me
and with weakened hands
I hold out my fee
I give all that I have, all that I own
For a ray of hope across the sea
that beckons and calls
for a chance to be free
Heavy, bloated
bleak and blue
I cross the seas
laid under you
I was one of the few
who made it across
to the ravenous sea
more lives were lost
and as I approached the shore
All I could see
were thousands of others
who were just like me
For sanctuary
we'd lost our lives and
now our identity
for now I'm number
Four thousand and three
My names no longer Amira
but
Refugee
Heavy, bloated
bleak and blue
I pray and wait
laid under you
All under the same sky.....
All under the same sky...........
Categories:
cumbersome, conflict, freedom, grief, poems,
Form:
Shift gears, shift gears, excite our spiritual peers,
they’ve lived for years… observing our generations of tears,
for Love’s sake from the limitations of egos’ innovations…
the outer self logic, the mechanic.. the mechanic, of cumbersome thought,
processes the established enemy , escape… escape the human mind,
the tangle vine…the vintage of the whore’s wine..
its rape its murder the sickness, the disease , the fleas..
of strife, the strife, the schizoid, of the void,
explored of Sigmund Freud, …
the logical ego entity … shift away infinity… infinity, the divinity,
the cup of Love’s logic awaits…
with Spiritual plates, with open gates…
unlimited possibilities…
the infinity of divinity the beginning of thee,
let us fly freely into the sunlit arms of the fresh blue skies
into the very nature of the power of life, the being of free…
out of the prisons of the self mutilating concepts of logics
flagellant human projects… keeping us bound,
away into oceans blue, Agape’s unlimited…clarity
into the fluid of faith hope and charity…
thine sacred, thine… sacred heart, Love‘s apple cart..
life… before the human concept of strife… the knife, the knife…
Oh.. the concept logical knife, the parasites, the parasites…
the makers of false love in the night… the egos up tight.
the children of the night, the human plight…
of the logical concept black as the night..
beware… beware of mechanical egos up tight…
Selah
Categories:
cumbersome, angst, self, self, spiritual,
Form:
Free verse
sometimes I smile wondering how we were all moulded
With beings calling themselves true worshippers of God
With this gospel of Christ that was spread by apostles
People led by the Holy Spirit and never loved the world
Thinking deep about this gospel that leads me book of
Psalms 1:2 where God meditates in His own word
Day and night knowing that the word is Him
Leaving me wondering why He created me
Giving me a clear reason that am Bound to worship Him
Many Christians are lost yet they represent spiritual kingdom
Logging ourselves in every Sunday mornings has been a habit
Criticizing the sacrifices made by true believers
Forgetting that they stand by revelation 12:11
Where they conquered the devil by the blood of the lamb
Christians are charged with hearts of jealousy and ill mannered
Forgetting the first love of Christ Jesus in the beginning
Making loudest noise and giving largest parts of their wealth
To cover the true selves of the demon that built an altar in their heart
Not forgetting Matthew 23:4 where they tie heavy cumbersome loads and let other Christians carry for them
Like Pharisees as Isaiah prophesied and said
They honour God with their lips but their hearts far from God
Where they speak of love and are in light skipping 1 john 2:9
Whoever says is in the light and hates his brother is still in darkness
Smiling and nodding for Titus 1:16 where they profess to know God
But they deny Him by their works like the glaze covering an earthen vessel are fervent lips with with an evil heart in proverbs 26:23-26
Feeling the agony of the Holy spirit of how His church
Has turned to be a den of robbers by also
Rejecting the true way of Christ and avoiding paths of righteousness
Only to remember God in times of high tides and hurricanes
The house of God has been clothed with punctures of
Hypocrisy, greed, first class honours and taking advantage of weak souls
For the day of the Lord is coming running to revelation 22:12
Where He will pay according to our deeds
Where will you be standing in the day of judgment
And what will you represent that day
When all doors of help will be locked .
Categories:
cumbersome, bible, confusion, devotion,
Form:
Epic
A nonchalant summers breeze seeps silent through a window
Left ajar
Carries soft memories scent of
Warm kenyan musk air
Which rests in a deep dark corner
Mind
Afar
Faint distant scratching of
Grasshoppers seranading
The cumbersome
Boa-bob tree
Which wavers gently
At the now noir sea...
As the tiny cream crabs rest their
Oh so suspicious eyes
Whilst there's still no peace for the wicked
Damn mosquitos
Fly
In my mind to the heavens door
Tiwi beach
Once stroked its soothing sand
Through my course
Comforted feet
And I know this place
Tis beautiful
My very just delight
By the Indian Ocean on a balcony
In the dead of the night x
Categories:
cumbersome, holiday, nostalgia,
Form:
All Bottled Up
Bottlenecks are one thing driving down the road
Making one late for work is another
Cumbersome, slow and an all time low
Containers made from glass have their ups and downs
Mostly downs we’re told
Their poisons kill aristocrats, the poor, poets known and unknown
Highs and lows are surely going to come
From bottles filled with rum
At first a happy swirling drunk
Becomes laid out sad and dumped
Delicious wine waits for me when I get home
The matter is getting beyond the cork and glass
Such troubles are these things
Bottles simply have no class and make me wince
To obtain the treasure there within
I have to use the cork screw
But bottle with evil intent conspires with the opener
Will not help me or comply to let me in
What’s the use? A hammer will have to do
Other bottles from long ago held potions, magic, and snake oil brew
Fluids ran wild in the old west causing more deaths than cures for sure
And no one had a clue it was the containers that they used
When shipping bottles made from glass
I have to label “fragile” and send them 1st. class
The ebb and flow and pour from every bottle
Illegal in Prohibition times
Caused many alcoholics to cry
I guess that was a crime
Consumers today can fill their glasses free from thought
From decanters, jars and urns that carry their own weight
Someone with a bottle will always be around though
To hit me on my head for something I might say
And if the bottle breaks, someone, (I'm guessing me), will have to pay
5/19/14 Slamming Battle Round 2 contest
Categories:
cumbersome, conflict, drink, history, silly,
Form:
Free verse
I'm not quite sure when
they first arrived by boat
stepping onto Ellis Island
which is in New York,
alls I know is that my
ancestors came from
Germany, Wales and Ireland,
probably in the 1850s
or around that time,
when a lot of immigrants
came to New York with
barely a couple of dimes,
escaping their countries
from all different kinds of plights,
the ones from Ireland were
starving from the famous potato blight,
settling down in cold water flats
in different Brooklyn boroughs,
a lot of my ancestors working
printing presses while some of
them were plumbers,
I'm sure they were afraid
when they first came to
the overwhelming "Big Apple,"
and looking for work was
probably stressful and
pretty cumbersome,
in my minds eye I often
think how it might have been
for all of them,
walking around the big city
searching for the American dream
while trying desperately to fit in,
but somehow they made it
and rose above all the strife,
and thanks to them their
future ancestors like me have a
much better life.
Categories:
cumbersome, appreciation, family, immigration, new
Form:
Light Verse