Best Darned Poems
Slate gray streets made even darker by cutting raindrops
Umbrellas popping up everywhere, people seeking shelter
But I stayed put, wanting to get drained with the rain,
then I hear this tinkling voice that says, “Don’t you just love it when it rains?!”
I look at her wearily and her eyes actually gleam with laughter
Oh geez, this lady was my total opposite. I was brooding, she was brimming.
I power-up my go away vibes, but she was like a darned magnet…
Was I the ferromagnetic one, or was she?
She gushed on the metaphor of rain in her life, and I didn’t feel like drowning.
Listening to her amidst the onslaught was so refreshing, making me thirstier…
There we were, two drenched souls, sitting on the pavement, chatting up a storm.
Of all her descriptions of rain, one in particular stood out for me…
Pearl drops strung on silver strands …
She said, “Rain for me would be silver strands streaking an otherwise somber sky…
pearl drops strung on silver strands, broken by the heavens to share with us.
See how precious it is?” Then she continued on with the metaphor for pearls…
Her words felt like windshield wipers to me, and I could see clearly now
By then, the rains had softened, and a lone pearl drop landed on her eyelashes
-that made me look closer at her eyes… her beautiful, wise, yet cloudy eyes…
I have never looked at rain the same way since then.
For Andrea's and Susan's Silver Strands contest
Got a party coming up
I need to learn some moves
so I listened to the all-time greats
for tips on how to groove.
These music legends from times past
should know the moves to use
but what they say is conflicting
and now I'm just confused.
Curtis Mayfield sang 'move on up'
Dobie Gray sang 'get on down'
but someone else says 'get on up'
can't argue with James Brown.
'Let your backbone slip' says Otis Redding
(he sat on the dock)
but last time that I tried that move
the darned thing went and locked.
Chubby Checker did the twist
but that just gives me gyp,
Van Halen reckon I should jump
more likely that I'll trip.
On second thoughts, I'll sit it out,
ignore the dance floor action.
If I take on all of this advice
I'll just end up in traction.
Some dancers are pure naturals
it's how their body's wired,
in my case it's much simpler-
I'm getting old.
And tired.
Darkness you have a funny way of shading the light
colour coding from such a pit spinning the web of deceit
clouds within suffering victims cry to the heaven's
Shame on such corrupt souls poisoned by lies
twisting truth shows bad manners condemning justice
to speak correctly false faced inside forked tongues
Where the poor are heavily burdened inside such greed
values no longer hold the ground to address this shift backwards
principles are darned from the fabric sewn into morality
Backwards thinking science crosses a great divide in society
slavery is rising fast where the toils of labour have been reduced
to crusts little crumbs are being swept away like worthless pieces of dust
Oh By Gosh… and By Darn… It’s another political year.
Dragon wants in on it as a political candidate My Dear.
President Dragon is a lot… to sincerely be able to take in.
And he wants his own cabinet… So that he can surely win.
My cabinet was emptied and filled with penguins, to my chagrin.
They were secretly plotting… their strategy, they said with a grin.
Then they closed it back up, I thought, until who knows when.
Twitter was now in play, as his name appeared with his own spin.
He was now a candidate in every, single, blooming, complete state.
But, he was only to be found in Australia, I truly kid you not mate!
So… sorry you guys, I said, as I explained to them, their mistake.
They then decided to win, on two continents, to my amazed chagrin.
Shortly, they appeared on every docket, and state, in the good old US of A.
They even signed him up, for the flame-throwing contest in Rio, this day.
Apparently, World domination was absolutely, in mind-boggling play.
But I’ll be darned if I’ll wear a burqa, for that Middle East picture, today.
Dragon was to be the Law and Order Candidate, for even deep space.
He’ll wear his Super Hero Cape, wherever he goes, all over the place.
He pulled ahead, quickly in every state, without showing his cute face.
But there are a lot of Democratic crazies, in the United States these days.
And don’t forget the disillusioned Republicans, with egg on their face.
Never worry my friends; he’s below the age limit at three, in any case.
I’ll wait until later, to point that out, so someone else, eventually wins.
He’s learning about politics, tho political correctness, may be his end.
If only I could get my cabinet back, and set his penguins, on another track.
Or maybe I sould say, don’t delay, vote for Dragon, to get my cabinet back.
He can’t be any worse than the other candidates I see… and guess what?
He soundly, has the world’s paparazzi behind him… So it’s going to be…
A Great News Day, day after day, until November 7th, so vote for Dragon!
What else can I say!!! There’s too much at stake… to vote any other way!
Written 8-21-2016
I want to be a poet to write those words which rhyme
But it seems I'm having trouble with tempo, tense and time
How do the poets do it rhyme words so undisputed
They neatly find the perfect word and exactly where to put it
They make it seem so simple words flow in easy verse
While my words go from good to bad and then they just get worse
Oh to have the poets flair for grasping words from out the air
But alas I stare at paper bare and pine for words which are not there
With ease the poets do it pen words so neatly dressed
While I sit here debating and getting more depressed
To them it's not too arduous to mete out rosy prose
While in my mind bewildering a musty cobweb grows
Ornately Poets do it scribe sentiment so clear
That lifts the heart and stirs the soul like music to the ear
As I scan their lines which meld and knit I envy those who conjured it
And when I read their words united tis my id which gets excited
I twitch and get elated when I find two words of whit
But I'll be darned if I can find another two which neatly fit
I thumb through my thesaurus till the moon is fully lit
But my brain is still in neutral and not a rhymes been writ
Each pair I work to sound enhance fails to bring the bards due dance
And the prose I opt for seems to lack the poet's gift of word romance
But I'll persist and see how it goes
And perhaps one day I'll write some prose
Like any family, mine’s the same, they leave Mama with the dirty Chores.
You’d think with Trolls, and Dragons, and such… There’d be magic galore!
But I concede defeat at Pooper Scooping Time, my sons taught everyone well.
You’d think just once, they wouldn’t run away, with such a humongous bombshell.
The Witch next door is out of town; she usually uses it to fertilize her yard.
Her magic does it in a minute flat, but she’s not here, as my yard becomes marred.
She flew on vacation with the first snowfall; in spring she’ll help my backyard.
In the meantime it’s just little old me… It’s like cleaning out a yucky stockyard.
So I gave a shovel to a grouchy old Dragon, since he’s so big and does so much.
But I came back fricasseed and charbroiled, my shovel totally melted, as such.
I put on my fire retardant suit, and I gave him a special spot where he can unload.
Apparently he didn’t like that either, as I dug out from under a humongous load.
Finally, raking it all up, I ask the dragon, to make cinders of the yucky stuff.
Instead he laughed as he huffed and puffed, blowing smoke at me, in a huff.
I smelled kinda bad as I went to the house, getting a cart to fill to the brim.
I’ll admit, getting mad at a dragon was never a good idea, to originally begin.
But I was pissed, as it looked like rain, and my mind was beginning to spin.
I filled the cart to overflowing, then tied it to the sleeping dragon’s… butt end.
When he woke up, he flew half way up to the moon, spreading it on the wind.
Unfortunately it was me, my yard, and my house, that finally got it again.
Who knows where that darned old cart now lies, as he came flying back alone.
I had learned my lesson that it would never be wise to lose my temper again.
So as the rain began to wash my folly away, I looked up and kissed the rain.
Sometimes it’s prudent, to just relax, and get in touch with the elements again.
We each and everyone have scar tissue
laid deeply etched internal conflict hides dialogue
All battles are fought against love condemned un-fairly
hate tortures all good reasoning over trowing truth
Firstly cursing madness stands as judge
corrupted fibres removes stitches darned incorrectly
As the tree of life bears fruit from it's branches
seeds upon this earth has been planted
Like a snowflake born from the living waters of life
unique in how each of us is constructed underneath
Our souls are immortal holding a frame within time
the body is merely a temple nourished by golden light
Countdown begins under a corrupted crop sewing lies
seeing is believing where chastisement begs pardon under oath
As
the sun
gently slid
down western hills,
a large mass of clouds
some grey, some white, some pink
lay spread across the blue sky.
The lazy wind darned their edges,
with its wanton hands to a cluster.
Golden twilight spread across the earth.
Crickets were singing in chorus.
Fireflies flashed their tiny lights.
Stars arrayed in night sky.
Moon showed her fair face.
Sky was teal blue.
Earth fell still.
Darkness,
loomed.
I took myself walking the other day,
not far from the city's decay
A small patch of solitude beckoned to me,
'til I came to take rest,by the old stump of a tree.
Sure I took myself walking and alone here I sit,
disgusted with life and close to a fit.
With face cupped in hands and eyes a-staring out straight,
I thought to myself, "What will be my fate?"
Self-pity had just about taken it's toll,
when that old stump piped up, with the voice of my soul.
"Look here young fella,what's got you so low?"
"Life's got me defeated', I said kinda slow.
"Life's got you defeated--just look what I've got,
a face charred by fire and a heart full of rot.
I've got critters chewing me inside and out,
and I'm darned close to dying,there is little doubt.
But am I discouraged?--not on your life.
I've served a good purpose, with my offspring and wife".
And looking around, what should I see,
but hundreds of saplings and another old tree.
"We've given the earth much more than we've taken,
if you do the same, you won't be forsaken.
Just go back and face life with it's ups and it's downs.
Back to your life in cities and towns.
But come back again, if you feel yourself slippin',
If more people went walking, there'd be less of them flippin'.
I
Daffodill sheer trumpets
Dearest friendships you gift
Doused miles of sweet scent
Dozens charm in bouquets
Darned bright in raven hair
Deck gardens in yellow
Delicate fresh flower
Written: December 09, 2023
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Honeyed gold pearled shades
brown ferns and aspens
into shadowed paths
lit embers and oaks
As darkness draws near,
with bowed tears of stark
runic streaks of light
dapple my sky
showing only maze
of black enigmas
crimson, lucid blaze.
leading to plum sky.
Swift shades drape my thirst
like dim-lit daydreams
that persist through time
niggling at my nerves
in sparkling strings of
stern frame blush skyline!
whilst glum chorus swells
in ghostly darkness.
Gloom morphs darned mayhem
veiled cinereal shroud
as she touches me
gazing with sleek sight
hushed tones, wan relics
of laid skyline bleeds
lost in shades of rouge
Onyx oboe chords.
The blaze has withered
oblivion crave.
Against the pale October Moon, a lone howling cuts
Through the chill of the winter’s night, gleaming yellow
Green eyes flash in the forests wilderness wild.
Sleek mystic swift of feet, white powder chameleons,
Living by the creed of basic instinctual desire to survive,
In this harsh environment of the Rocky Mountains.
By the flight of the morning blue jay, spooked from his
Perches vantage point on high, the pack hunts in the
Deep valleys thickening glen.
Snow wolves on the prowl, seeking freedoms liberation
By tooth and claw, but these are beasts of the free spirit,
Out laws nomads, wondering where the restless heart so
Leads them.
Beguiling creatures of beauty, representing the raw
Force of power of the untamed soul, roughed individuals,
Stalkers of the ice and snow.
Spiritual brethren to the tribal Indians are these
Sacred guardians of the great spirits creation, darned
With mutual respect and admiration honor, let them
Roam freedom’s path forever.
Symbolic warriors under the skin and fur, does the animal
Run beside the human hidden within the shadow realm of realism.
Echoing in the distance, with a chilling presence that
Crawls up the neck bone of mankind, announcing,
Erriely, of the hunger driving them in silence.
Nature’s selectors, weaving the weak from the strong,
Legacies ancestral brave, soldiers of canines pack,
Living on the edge of extinction mighty wrath.
But looking into the eyes of the beast, one can only
See the beauty of a wild creature, whom wishes to remain
As he was born to be, simply put FREE!!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
He looked so darned small at the plate
For the pitch he just couldn't wait
Got a high fast ball
He swung for the wall
You'r out! But to mom he did great!
For the Favorite Sport contest....
Hung my Christmas sock
Darned neatly for the mantel
So Santa could leave
Nuts, fruit maybe peppermint
Winter often harshly cold
Never wanted much
Just a big red tricycle
To ride my sister
Around on the long front porch
Red tricycle was missing
Dad quickly vanished
Had owner to open store
On Christmas morning
Santa left it on front porch
Could not stuff into stocking
Copyright © 2011 By Caryl S. Muzzey
I have a friend called Bob Beaubobble
who trains unusual pets to juggle
assorted items frequently fumbled
by freakish fish or octibumbles
This hobby made him mucha dinero
which he put in the bank ‘with interest’ to grow
but while he was filling in all of the forms
One creature escaped from under his arms
Unseen in the dark, in the bank late at night
It bypassed security through the intranet site
And juggled and gambled to its hearts content
playing with our pennies until they were spent
Red-faced officials met the press in a panic
George Bush sent more troops to Afghan and Iraq
World leaders drew circles around toxic debt
then pointed their fingers to the country that started it...
The slimy old salamander sucks his cigar
as he drives to his office in a luxury car.
CEO though all see he's a feckless axolotl
without any shame, just a shed load of bottle.
He's safe in the knowledge, while his bank has been drained
A huge bonus is scheduled to keep him retained
and cash will be pumped from the taxpayers vains
soon he’ll start things all over and gamble again.