Best Curdle Poems

Seafarers shall be saved, though waves may
deem them dead, lost in the ocean's fray
they shall not perish, nor shall they be afraid
nor falter, though their earthly woes be done.
They shall tame the deep, brave the mighty Charybdis
and win release to heaven's blessed throne.

Nor shall the...

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Blinded by a carousel of fragmented glistening glass
An image of self,  pieced together by my own hands unworth,
Each jagged shard cuts deep the chalice of a selfish heart 
'Til blood, like words, curdle in the bowels of my own thoughts,
A faceless demere dissects the...

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At post teenage 
some day at tea a committee
my mates same age
while seated a round wooden chair
legs crossed, sipping coffee
did asked me

why do you speak in proverbs
poetry they mean to say.
I air to them in strong verb
living poetry is great pay

In poetic pen
pour my tears
my...

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Intense emotions surged when justice sought
if I defended wrongful witness brought.
Then I was saved through Daniel; nearly caught.
Accused of sins absurd, derogatory words
from people’s tongues not curbed, but gossip which they heard.
Cupidity the driving force behind
the false accusers’ spiteful state of mind.
So rarely friends could...

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Seafarers shall be saved, though waves may
deem them dead, lost in the ocean's fray
they shall not perish, nor shall they be afraid
nor falter, though their earthly woes be done.
They shall tame the deep, brave the mighty Charybdis
and win release to heaven's blessed throne.

Nor shall the...

Continue reading...

why do we 
still assume that whispered diamond dialects
delicate and sheer
aren't scripted with blades 
that curdle blood-stained musings
as summer symphonies scorch ebony skin
tattooed with dark and deep sinister sonnets
sewn from superficial scarlet syllables 
that emanate rusted mahogany hues

so listen to the mulberry metaphors
that rain with...

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They were gambling in front of the house.
Manservants and pages bustled about
Serving Suitors who just curse and carouse.
Few mix wine with water. I heard one shout,
"Clean down the tables with wet sponges! Rouse
Yourselves! And when you've done that lay them out
Again!" Some others carve mountains...

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How Did It Get So Late So Soon?

Lines on my face
How did that happen?
How did it get so late so soon?
Gray-streaked hair
and creaky old joints
How did it get so late so soon?

Can't think how to write
a line like Seuss
or personify a great big moose

No Whos...

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Rongtern Mansion
By M. Taha Effendi

(Verse Libre)

The front door of the mansion mysteriously creaks open,

I freeze.

Hoping to hear a welcoming voice,
But all I hear is the wailing of the cold wind,
The pitter-patter of rain outside,
And the roar of lightning,
The room reeks of damp, decayed wood and...

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as not you with yarmulke
delivering yogurts past the age of curdle
what you asked from me a cuddle

as in a tent you phantom 
I'll be drooling for thank you
your mistake

as many tests show will be a park ranger
to deliver needles clean the life of certain
as a...

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Near our village lies Taal Bay
Where tides  of  adolescence curdle--
And quite often, the ripples  mirror
The kind whispers and loud groans
From the blended flavors of  youth’s thirst,
Hungering  for its wild streams of independence
Amidst this  need for balance between
Naiveté and inner...

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Our only source of water,
the spring lay to the west,
downhill from the house.

Its flow gurgled up
to form a creek which snaked
through a field toward the barn.

Cold spring water firmed butter,
and chilled the milk,
 kept dry in tin buckets,
dropped underwater daily.

Our old sow would root, nose
under...

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A new day perhaps, of immeasurable tin, sound of din
A hurricane noise, a thrall of riotous cuts, although thin
The blood-curdle choke of rage from before
Now purchased like plasma from the needle store
Go hump yourself, If you want my schtick, you vampire whore
You’ve had enough since...

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A skip in my step and a smile as i jump
A tap on the shoulder in my throat forms a lump
Grin as it does and takes as it wants 
Snatching and fondling in delight as it stuns 

Fingers of insecurity it trails across thy heart
Nails...

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There’s nothing lacking in the thing itself.
In some ways, it’s the very best of us.
It’s not like Marx was some egregious elf,
or Rosa Luxemburg some succubus.

The deal is, if you subjugate the masses,
they might not like it.  Corner them, and they
will fan out fiercely,...

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