Best Dangled Poems
“The Queen-Sized Bed”.
© London F. Buss
A queen-size bed was coming slowly,
down the rough dirt track.
As it drew closer,
The wheels clumsily mounted on the base of each leg,
rattled like a hospital gurney on the stones.
The bed was being pushed slowly,
ever so, carefully.
By a weary old man in tattered clothes and worn-out shoes.
as he drew closer, and closer,
I saw that he was pushing his dying wife who was,
lying in a dressing gown under the covers,
in the Queen-Sized Bed.
He pushed carefully trying not to shake the bed,
excessively.
His wife's head was supported by four pillows,
she had wispy strings of silver white hair.
She was dying.
Several I.V. Bottles dangled off a hook,
And dripped painkillers into her arm.
She was awake but barely conscious,
I wondered where they were going,
but in my heart, I knew...
privacy for an hour,
I came back as the sun was setting.
I found them together sitting on the bed,
Looking over the ocean.
The old man was holding his dying wife,
in his arms… stroking her silver hair under the sparkling,
southern cross.
They were sharing her last sunset as,
the dying embers of a fiery sun faded into the ocean.
Night fell and I walked home alone,
I had witnessed love real love,
something I had never experienced,
something I had never known.
If you’re near Cowell and you look hard enough,
You may just find the queen-size bed,
with a tattered mattress and exposed springs,
quietly rusting away outside a decrepit ruin of a barn.
Take a closer look at the legs and you will find four rusting,
gurney wheels.
and if you approach quietly on a moonlit night,
you will hear soft sobbing in the whistling wind,
as it dreams of that dying sunset,
under the southern cross...
and the milky way lights up the sky,
soaring into the heavens
as the angels sing.
Categories:
dangled, death, for her, loss,
Form:
Free verse
On the south-western side of the old mission school,
near the corner of First Street, where blackberries grew
a field claimed by youngsters was crosshatched with tracks.
It was riddled by gophers and, nettled with fox-tails
and the children's bare feet had constructed thin trails,
cupping deep paths that were littered with smiles,
deep in the amber of tall weeds and dry grass.
It wasn't too far from the patched wire fence
that hemmed the backyard of my Grandmother's house.
Westerly whirlwinds would rattle the ragweed,
while seeds of the bull-thorns, that prickled our toes,
would spread with the tumbleweeds, now tossed into rows
like last winter's snowmen, worn to the bone
There were traces of honeysuckle mixed with wild rose
from Grandma's old arbor, that loomed in the distance
A rusty old weather vane like a merry-go round
would spin like a top that might never stop
The ivy was overgrown, and a sleepy old hound
would snooze by the clothesline, in shade he had found
But, deep in the field, was a land of our own
A place we called 'Neverland', a loft in this poem
In the yoke of one tree, with the help of our dad
was a fort built of scrap wood, from piles by the shed.
And by hook or by crook, I would take all commands
While my brother's brewed brainstorms, and his black plastic hook,
assigned him the Captain, while I was the crew
of a ramshackle galleon, brought to life from our books
While I dangled in air, from a tired old swing
"Tinker", my name...in this masculine game..
I would push off, while he pulled me, right up to the sky
and into the branches, with leaves in my eyes......
I would fly to the depth's of a steel gray-blue sky
I would grovel, and shovel, to have his approval........
for he was much older, much wiser than me
I would play like a tomboy,.....shove doll-drums away
Such sweet summer days,......while bright splintered rays
of hot summer sun, would spotlight our play.
We would stay until twilight, to watch the sun die
Defying all gravity.......I could see to eternity
Tootsie Pops clung to the tip of our tongues
while the sun of the twilight, dipped over the dunes
and the call of our mother, slipped over the moon
____________________________________________________________
Categories:
dangled, childhood, nostalgia, places, western,
Form:
Narrative
My poetry garden of late has lain untended and forlorn.
I succumbed to shock and dismay upon entering recently, for I observed that
great disagreement had erupted and now vehemently
raged among adjoining unmade weed-filled beds of subjects and verbs.
Modifiers that had been dutifully arranged and carefully
kept in check upon their trellises now dangled everywhere.
Sentences had spilled out of their beds in fragments or running
on and on while cases of subjectives and objectives shamelessly
intermingled and were now easily mistaken one for another.
Grammar, whose care I had entrusted to first, second and third
persons, lay in shameless disarray, as if no one could tell the difference.
Gerunds casually consorted with infinitives, many
of which had split. I recalled with a sigh how many years it had taken
me to tightly bind them. [To bind them tightly is what I meant.]
Commas were everywhere, rendering those in appropriate
position practically unrecognizable, which I suppose was better than
what had happened to the capitals, now completely ignored.
No reason for the rhyme with forms confused or misplaced altogether.
My lines, unpruned, were of disparate length and hideously incompl
An unfortunate mis-spell had been cast and provoked an infestation,
such that many of my friends had departed without comment.
The contest entry was blocked, so I bowed my head in shame,
turned around and shuffled silently through the exit marked N/A.
Posted July 24, 2014
'Let the Pens Flow - Narrative' Contest
Jenish Somadas
Categories:
dangled, garden,
Form:
Narrative
The lake was still sleeping
a light mist rose above,
a weathered dock could be seen,
its aged wood; full of memories.
The air crisp, breeze light,
trees majestic; watching all.
Squirrels busy scampering,
as a flock of geese soared above.
Way over yonder
clear across the still lake,
shining brightly were yellow shutters,
on our cabin; our special place.
We had toiled the garden
planted yellow roses with great care,
we had painted the old wood shutters,
yellow paint; speckled our hair.
The roof we re-shingled,
one painstaking nail at a time,
we even counted the ouches;
when our hammers got out of line.
With nothing but smiles
on our weary, aching bodies,
we held hands, and went running,
into the still of the lake; giggling.
We swam out to the dock,
it was a race; he won,
my hand he took laughing;
as he quickly scooped me up.
Our toes dangled playfully
sending ripples in the lake,
as we gazed at our cabin;
yellow shutters; fresh with paint.
The trees swayed slightly
as if nodding with approval,
for our cabin by the lake,
was our private sacred jewel.
As we cuddled together
warmth filled our souls,
for our bright yellow shutters,
symbolized, our love's blossoming growth.
It was on this very dock,
air crisp, breeze light,
when he gave me a yellow rose;
and asked me to be his wife.
Categories:
dangled, happiness, inspirational, love, me,
Form:
Free verse
When I used to dream
I used to dream about him
Fantasizing about how it happened and how it could have been
Demons, chasing Nightmares, Happiness on Poles
Tied into a loveknot and dangled in front of me
No matter how I ran, how far, how fast
It seemed to sweetly Escape
Just when he was in my grasp
I tried it all
New haircuts
New styles
New boys
Sexy sexy skirts
With new pairs of heels
Filling holes with things that
Really don’t mean anything
Except to say
I’m doing just fine without you
Days go by,
Months slip away
Years appear on doorsteps like unwanted infantile
Infatuations
I beat my self up for loving
the way
He moved
Spoke, touched
Laughed, ached, cried
He could
Heal the burns on my fiery soul
He could handle
Dangerous curves
On roadways unknown
My first love
Today I no longer linger
On whispers in photographs
Or chain ball letters
I don’t chase after white sports cars
Or sink when I hear his name
I see him sometimes and I feel his stare
Sting me on the places it hits
I’m with my own
And his with his other
But just to let him know
It’s okay
I smile
and let go
Unraveling
This cord
of discord
Love is forever
No matter the occasion
I forgive, i forget
and let him live
Without me
I appreciate
His gift, wrapped with
detachment
For the benefit, of each other
He showed me with open eyes
That I did not need a man
For me
To love
Me
He gave
A bittersweet
Indescribable
Emotion. The Gift
Of Poetry.
Thank you…
Categories:
dangled, lost love, me,
Form:
Bio
Another haunted night, I watch
raindrops fall from consolatory words,
track each plane flying south, and
I think of you.
My lungs empty a lonely sigh…
I bullet a dark, heaving sky
with my angry words as I curse you
for walking away again. I remember
the starlings that came earlier; they
circled low, then perched along
the eaves while the sun held me in
afternoon glow, as if to say goodbye,
friend. We will meet again.
I should have known.
Night after night, shadows march
a solemn procession across a long-faced
moon. I know he is mourning, too.
Weeds tangle my thoughts until I dream
in a web of mismatched memories
and neglected clues - so many questions,
left in a heap at the foot of our bed,
no answers said out loud. Solitude plays
games with my heart; mocking me tonight,
the house wins again. Why do I gamble
after I lost you before? How many times
have you walked out that door?
I try to mend cracks exposed when
darkness fades into golden dawn.
I try to color my crumpled world
like a child. I paint smiles on your face
in our albums to tell myself lies.
I replay the moment you walked away;
I envision every detail down to one lace
that dangled from your new shoes,
new shoes bought to step into our new
life together. I remember when we wrapped
ourselves in our dreams to keep warm.
One day, your face will dissolve
like a rain puddle on a summer day.
One day, I’ll say goodbye and start again.
Maybe today will be that day.
At least today, I’ll try.
A lone starling in a dark, glossy suit
lands on my window sill at break
of dawn. It wakes me with its sweet,
warbled song and waits long enough for me
to rise from bed so I might feel the promise
of a new day shine into my soul. Then,
as my tears fall soft like spun silk,
he spreads his wings and flies away.
In light of dawn’s blessings, I am
the starling, singing a goodbye song. I pray,
tonight, I dream of anyone but you.
written April, 2014
Categories:
dangled, bird, break up, heartbreak,
Form:
Free verse
I always feel hungry
yet dare not complain
it may set a precedent,
believing I am the fodder
the factory keeps feeding on my
infinite illusions.
The Radio talkback show tells us,
“No one wants insecurity anymore.”
Yet the conglomerates give no guarantee
no “Job for life”
Only a life! For a job.
Perhaps security is with the power
of the poppy or cocoa leaf?
So far, I’ve been lucky
I’ve found my comfort zone
this side of life.
So! Do not weep for me
for I breathe the fragrance of innocence,
my mind remains only
a fragment of intellect,
my musing will never make poem of the day
when my world one of such simplicity.
Yet I see mankind bemused,
multitudes from all walks of life
programmed as corn in the meadow
swaying to a acrimonious breeze,
before being judged within a
clockwork frame, with hearts
that beat in caustic chests.
Frail bodies embraced with wretched minds
tolerance etched upon stark faces,
their promised land dangled upon
the filament of dreams,
while calculated scenarios
bombard their unswerving ambience.
© Harry J Horsman 2020
Categories:
dangled, angst, power,
Form:
Free verse
JED.
Jed the horse thief was a bit of a dope
Stole a pretty horse and tried to elope
Folk declared him a horse thief
And for giving them much grief
They dangled him at the end of a rope...
PADDY O'HARE.
A deep sea diver called Paddy O'Hare
Was on the sea bed without any care
His watch he forgot to check
Coughed and said" oh flippin heck"
Never surfaced cos he ran out of air...
BARTHOLOMEW LOTT.
The great explorer Bartholomew Lott
Was in the jungle with Jimmy the Scot
Cannibal's came in the night
They both put up a great fight
But were outnumbered and put in a pot...
FRED.
Fred tried to run away with his lover
Was caught in the act by his dear mother
She said this cannot be
T'will end in tragedy
His lover was the wife of his brother...
JIHADI (WON'T BE MISSED).
Bin Sayed said everything will be fine
Told a Jihadi bomber to cross the line
But Jihadi didn't know
Something was about to blow
A loud kaboom when he stepped on a mine...
LOUISE.
An old woman by the name of Louise
Had a fur coat that made everyone sneeze
Also they'd start to twitch
And scratch raw from the itch
She found out it was infested with fleas...
KEITH THE TROLL
There was a vile and nasty troll called Keith
Bullied the weak and shy into defeat
He lived in a small town
A victim tracked him down
Now he's seen walking around with no teeth...
Written 26th February 2020.
Categories:
dangled, humor,
Form:
Limerick
Alone and weary ...
she dangled toes o'er the mountain ledge -
the late-October night was clear
and bitter cold, yet as still as death ...
rare were such even-tides
when not a breath of keen altitude
moved among the peaks.
Far below, thru brumal wisps
the tribal lights shimmered in warmth
drums of ceremony echoing
like All-Hallows heartbeats ...
a lone conch-shell horn
moaned woefully, and somewhere
a wolf answered.
The harvest moon
swam thru the bright Milky Way wash
like a silver doubloon ...
swallowing stars in its wan gullet
and transfiguring the sharp-shard ridges
to proud porcelain gods
arms stretching heavenward.
She had made this
calm-but-keen sojourn countless times
each late fall, in careful anticipation
of this very night ...
but never before had an evening
trembled so tenderly
or shone as bright and bloodless.
Life had been full ...
with loves and adventures and aches
but she longed for rest and sleep ...
the bare, lonely mountains of ancient autumn
and crisp, dead leaves hushed it to her -
the prayer of welcome ... the prayer
of poignant endings.
She smiled at the thought
of those she loved, now left behind
her heart swelling with a sad, soulful contentment.
As her people's farewell chant rose faint
sweet with the smoke from campfires, far below
she breathed, deep and dear
the magnificent night ...
And stepped softly ... off the edge.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Fall Into Fall" Poetry Contest, Chantelle Anne Cooke, Judge & Sponsor.
Categories:
dangled, adventure, appreciation, autumn, fantasy,
Form:
Free verse
oh. dear. gawd.
another patently
meaningless
crush of stanzas, jam-packed with
adjectives and color words
straight from Roget's,
strung together in
strands of misuse and
improper context -
syntax-scraping adverbs and
prepositions dangled
at inhuman angles,
rushing in torrents to a
head-scratching conclusion that
leaves lips numb and dripping clear liquid,
fingers combing deep the
strands to tear out in horrid disbelief,
jaws left agape in
utter confusion and
hopelessness ...
it all settles like
brick-heavy clay in
the gut, that this vile destruction of
the English language and
its artistic forms -
this uneducated and
brutal bludgeoning of phraseology -
words replaced
willy-nilly by thesaurus-crazed maniacs,
(all for the sake of
impressing the masses
who don't know the difference),
is garnering dozens of
enthralled ignorance-is-bliss
comments, and placing
first in
contest-after-contest!!
how could any sane,
serious weaver of words
NOT want to blow
their freaking brains out?!?
the coronavirus pandemic
has been NOTHING
compared to the sickening
misuse of words
that flows on-and-on from public
poetry sites in crushing
waves of feigned
eloquence and verbal vivisection ...
could it be, perhaps,
that the circle writing ISN'T inane,
but rather a strangled striving
for the breadth of
non-linear orthography??
welcome to the
ultimate zero sum game -
the mangy monkey in the monkey
puzzle tree,
Schroedinger's kitty,
skinned and nailed to the barn house ...
fan-freaking-tastic ...
let's kill this clairvoyant clown,
quickly ... quietly ...
cuz ...
it. never. ends.
(lack of proper punctuation and capitalization very intentional)
Categories:
dangled, angst, conflict, fun, metaphor,
Form:
Free verse
While a lattice of gold asters sheds its dangled petals,
I cringe against the intrusion from rainfall's unforgiving wind.
Through night's hush, moist blooms graze my arms scenting my quietude.
...............
Andrea Dietrich’s Glorious Sijo Fields
Visual No.5
Categories:
dangled, flower, peace,
Form:
Sijo
I met a Hippie walking down the street.
She had long hair, big eyes.
Wide-bottomed trousers, orange-red,
Covered in an intricate pattern
Of strange designs, flapped round her feet
And from her shoulders over a flowered blouse
Hung a black satin something
With bright green frills on the edges.
From her neck dangled to her breast an emblem
In a circle – a unity of Love and Peace.
I passed by her and she glanced up.
I smiled...she smiled...and we moved on.
A smile can work wonders.
The couch and chairs were empty
And we sat comfortably on the carpet.
The candle threw an eerie light
Which came to nought in the depths
Of the room’s shadowy corners.
An odour of incense drifted around us
And a distorted candle flame
Was reflected in my cup of coffee.
We spoke of art, painting and poetry
Treading on the romantic,
Passing through hazes of religion:
A mixture of love, knowledge and mystery,
Probing into the eluding outlets of LSD,
The restful release of meditation,
The yearning of youth, disillusions of life,
The roots of joy and depression,
The understanding of oneself.
Smoke rose in bluish transparency.
The ring on her finger was big and it glimmered;
She opened a poetry book at random
And began reading from Tagore.
I was silent. Her voice was soft.
And when she stopped we said not a word.
There was no need – we both understood.
--------------------------------------------------------
Contest: Any Poem#22
Sponsor: Poet Destroyer A
Placing: 4th
Categories:
dangled, peace, together, youth,
Form:
Free verse
On the bank of the James River,
Virginia Colony,
a proposal was conceived to constrain the African fire.
The ploy, a real achievement in the West-Indian settlements.
In Rome, bodies were paraded along the byways,
to make a statement.
My Massa used ropes.
We dangled by our necks like roosters in a slaughter house.
When the pining for liberty was stirred up in the marrows of our bones,
we set ablaze a few bungalows,
and murder some dumb beasts.
The statement we made was called an uprising.
The fields were abandoned, the livestock ran wild,
and the slothful young mistress had to breast-feed her own child.
The scheme had the ingredients of breaking a mule,
and Virginia Colony was the first lab for creating fools.
A prophet’s blessing was given to the merchants,
and black diamonds were shipped;
they were purged of the soil of the mother land.
A new being was fashioned, dependent on Massa.
A man was set against his consort and his seeds,
and the whips wrote rules on our backs in their faces;
our pride drained from the gorges in our hides,
and respect slowly seeped from their eyes.
The bond was broken;
a ***** was concocted
without the spirit of Ghana, the Warrior King,
and the Ashanti, the pre-colonial backbone.
Should we not push as a woman in nativity for the renaissance?
Categories:
dangled, angst
Form:
Lyric
A most charming poet named Dan
Writes poems whenever he can
He is sixty today
So I’m writing to say
Happy birthday from your friend Jan
xxxxxxx
An unfortunate poet named Daniel
His huge ears made him look like a spaniel
They dangled down so low
Past his knees to his toe
The plastic surgeon re-wrote the manual!
The surgeon who was in charge
He had never seen ears so large
With a nip and a tuck
Daniel was in good luck
Dashing home to show his wife Marge
POEMS POSTED WITH PERMISSION OF DANIEL TURNER
13th August 2016
Categories:
dangled, birthday, friendship, humorous,
Form:
Limerick
A feller went to the doctor's office 'cause he wasn't feelin' well.
The doctor said, "You ain't lookin' all that swell, this I can tell!"
He had a banana stuck in his right ear and a celery stalk in his left!
From his nose dangled a pair of carrots thus leavin' him quite bereft!
The doc without further examination relieved him from his plight,
Sayin', "You gotta change yer eatin' habits! You're not eatin' right!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Categories:
dangled, health, humorous,
Form:
Couplet