Best Demurred Poems
Today, I got into a Polite Fight
Over the last Wonder Woman night-light
"Oh, its yours," I insisted,
She demurred, I resisted,
Until I gave in and let her be right!
4/8/18
I still savor the thought of the zest that I caught
When you joined us that night after school.
Tara figured out why, since she’s so sage and sly;
She left early to show it was cool.
With her sis Tara-gon, Ginger sighed with a yawn,
“My, it’s late!” to clue in that nut-Meg.
“Would you look at the thyme!” came the reechoed chime,
With a wink from Corey-ander pal Peg.
Well, I felt like a god, though it seemed somewhat odd
That they all should jus’ curry, but hey,
When you gave me a smile as we two walked a while,
It dissolved my perplexed caraway.
In this teenagey bliss, I leaned in for a kiss,
Little knowing what I was against:
You demurred in a trice, “Though hot pepper is nice,
I insist that it’s parsley dispensed.”
With a panicky cast, I apologized fast
In my chili confusion and dread,
But I saw your eyes light, and we had a nice night
Holding hands at the cinnamon stead.
---
Credit where credit is due: I got the idea for this from Michael Wise's very original poem "A Spicy Story," posted here:
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/a_spicy_story_1100057
EVERYONE KNOWS
Everybody knew that the earth was flat
There were lots of bumps so not flat as all that
Though ships seemed to sink out of sight in the distance
They would come back with reassuring persistence
But everyone agreed from the peasant to The Crown
Clearly up was up and down was down
They all knew that the earth was the Centre, the middle
Sun and stars all around, it couldn’t play second fiddle
Galileo demurred; didn’t fit his equations
But revised his opinion on powerful persuasions
So reality continued to veer from the actual
‘Till they could not deny all the evidence factual
The theories of Galen from centuries ago
Said blood moved in the body by ebb and by flow
Then Harvey discovered the blood’s circulation
Requiring that science give reconsideration
Though facts showed that Galen’s old theory was failin’
Some proclaimed that they would rather err with old Galen
Now everyone knows climate’s in bad transformation
Based mainly on computer model simulation
CO2 is now villain and viewed as a bane
Yet the plants and the trees relish more of the same
We are told it is true, scientists agree far and wide
Like when Earth was flat, and blood moved with the tide
But science is dominant, and considered unmalleable
Except that the scientists are human and fallible
Just like all human race they have weakness, will amend a
Set of data not fitting their venal agenda
Use your eyes, beware those things everyone knows
In a trice could be gone like the yesteryear snows
LAMB AMONG THE LITERARY LIONS
Housewives, secretaries, the odd pro willing to stoop,
All came, delinquents, child prodigies, derelict old men
“All welcome” – the Chair of the Writers’ Group
To those looking for support, with a love of the pen;
They were decent people bonding, scorning the pub
The roll call a hedge school of ancient fame
They read poems and stories like a literary club
And enjoyed playing the great writing game.
Anthology reviewed, the twelve year old took accolade
From the shyest to the most arrogant, all were shook
He was savaged by the grande dame in an envious raid
She was terrified someone so young would produce a book!
Even the chair demurred, and went to The Times
Requesting deletion of “all welcome “– young souls are stilled by such crimes.
I observe palls of leaves, drifting on the wind
Compelling me to write, but my page keeps going limp
Fraying along straight edges, curling into crimp,
Nuanced in nature, daintiest touch rebuffs my whims
Thoughts become hesitant, so readily demurred
I scribble tenuous nothings, reflecting absent words
Cant tell which is moving, the leaves or my world
Seemingly fluxed together, synchronicity bestirs
Impossible to measure, let alone describe this scene
Small eddies all around me, vortex on grasses green,
As I look upon the tumult, my imagination reconvenes
Ink begins flowing again, and words start to scream
Disenfranchisement over, now feeling overjoyed
Balance is restored, the moment remains unspoiled
I look down at my sheet of paper, if only to recoil
Not in horror! Amazement, this little poem self compiled.
YOUR PERSONAL FAVORITE, NO. 2 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: L MILTON HANKINS
18/10/21
Love, thou art the Sirius,
the golden pheasant and the rose,
I was gleeful, a little curious
content with whom I chose.
Thou single sight fill me with pleasure
thrilling as a twisty roller coaster ride;
like the glorious shining treasure
demurred was I by thy side.
Thou possessed the bizarre aura,
that made me adhere with thee,
thy fragrant tentamount to flora
got me sink in the insanity.
Let's ignite the love of ours
let it be immortal
we shall rejoice for tranquil hours
with those bountiful chortle.
Perhaps I am a frightful boor,
But your looks were a visceral lure.
I stopped and I stared.
What if I had dared
To ask your name? But I demurred.
I'd have followed you without a thought
By your face I was utterly caught:
Like a fish in a net
My whole world I'd forget,
And misfortune would then be my lot
People say it is bad to be shy.
Maybe not, as your smile was a lie.
Looking back I can see
You are stronger than me.
I'm glad I could not meet your eye
As a young man, his world awaited
His thirst for success unabated
Found his niche, hunger unsated
To build a better team
Years went by, his fortunes grew
Ever larger crowds he drew
Trophies, accolades accrue
A legend it would seem
With his legacy assured
On one decision he demurred
Lack of action was inferred
The end of a dream
Indicted by a colleagues shame
He was forced to share the blame
In the press besmirch his name
Take one for the team
After all the games he won
After all the good he'd done
A storied champion was undone
It killed him it would seem
Written in honor of Joe Paterno
Couplets are written in tetrameter and trimeter
I ONLY SPEAK SECOND-RATE SPANISH
I didn’t say it then, but I can say it now -
I can say many things in many languages, and how!
English, Russian, French and the lovely Spanish tongue.
First one I started with, when I was young,
Was Spanish - learned in The States and
Obviously Mexican Spanish, perfectly at hand
For communicating with half a billion who likewise speak,
If in Latin America and over world you seek.
I chanced to meet a long-lost acquaintance,
A snobbish woman of little real substance,
Who spoke Spanish and we practised our learned word.
Oh, she says, you speak only Mexican Spanish. She demurred
- Not real Spanish………
Actually what she thaid wath, “You thpeak Mekthican Thpanish”
Real Thpanish ith called Cathtellano……
You would not be underthtood in Thpain, oh no!”
I obviously disappointed her with my inferior ability
She certainly disappointed me with her snobbery.
Now I can say that speaking Spanish is a pleasure
But thpeaking Thpanish is a torture.
The people of Thpain will have to be denied my voice
But the billion others may hear its song and joys.
“Are we under them or not?” they debated,
“Do we owe them explanation?”, they demurred,
Sure of their validation of this baby, they stated,
To Herod that one day it’d be the king conferred.
They knew they were doing something wrong,
To the Christ family and Jesus life which awaited,
Making his work harder by allowing scoffing long,
Specifying him for the Romans to have him fated.
But they believed in sociology as the mechanism,
For difficulties to be worked out through,
And upheld life and society as the atheism,
Which would confront their classism rue.
So revealed to Herod the birth of the child divine,
But kept back his address and how he looked,
So Herod ordered the death of every baby fine,
In order to kill that one infant that he’d booked.
He didn’t like the intelligence of the Zoroastrians,
The magi respected by all as insightful wise men;
Jews were bypassed easily as emotional pedestrians,
But the magi comprehended rational thought, ken.
So the wise men had integrity by respecting authority,
Showed consistency in their task to specify and select;
Were the original intellectuals who had subjectivity,
To both the Israeli people and the government elect.
She received her ribald advice
From the raucous old woman
Whose demurred ramble
Erased memories of yesterday
Her stained chastity
Perplexed by trivialities
Signified condoned fury
And anguished conviction
Those dancing assistants
Animated by sexual feats
Danced to the mad hula…
Trampling on human sacrifice
She studied the basic swells
Which seemed to secure the heavens
Shining like those fine stars of joy
Deployed to replenish her agony
Then as if pierced by scream of women
She leaped from the land of empty dreams
And unaccomplished limits
Into the rank of commoners
Those echoes of home
Initiated wild gyrations
Which besieged his intelligence…
Arrested procedures of departure
Hallowed ancient custom
Suffused with delight
Levied a surging impulse
On the chief navigator.
“Are we under them or not?” they debated,
“Do we owe them explanation?”, they demurred,
Sure of their validation of this baby, they stated,
To Herod that one day it’d be the king conferred.
They knew they were doing something wrong,
To the Christ family and Jesus life which awaited,
Making his work harder by allowing scoffing long,
Specifying him for the Romans to have him fated.
But they believed in sociology as the mechanism,
For difficulties to be worked out through,
And upheld life and society as the atheism,
Which would confront their classism rue.
So revealed to Herod the birth of the child divine,
But kept back his address and how he looked,
So Herod ordered the death of every baby fine,
In order to kill that one infant that he’d booked.
He didn’t like the intelligence of the Zoroastrians,
The magi respected by all as insightful wise men;
Jews were bypassed easily as emotional pedestrians,
But the magi comprehended rational thought, ken.
So the wise men had integrity by respecting authority,
Showed consistency in their task to specify and select;
Were the original intellectuals who had subjectivity,
To both the Israeli people and the government elect.
https://www.strategypage.com/htmw/htsf/20160301.aspx
Beneath the rubble of the Ocean
Where Panoply Swirls Decadent
Memories of Jupiter
Before the Flood-Omega
and, retro-spect, the turn of Archimedes
Poseidon in A Rage
Prophecies the Doom of the Titans
The Rush of the Nightengales
In the Dark of Obsidian Night
In the Cool of the Shrouded Dawn
Whom Fell to Earth
Without Hearkening the Runes of the Sibyl
Or Gilding the Armor of the Hoplite
"They Came Only to Procure the Heat of Day"
Poseidon proclaimed to his Daughter Ocean
Or Complained,
Perhaps
In Damnable Rhyme
With the Flow and Beat of Her Tides
Steadily Plummeting Above
"Yes, And I Love Him For It."
>Venus^< Demurred Coquettishly
"His Day is the Urge That I Hear,
---In the Night."
Quietly, she returned to her Lonely Merman
How long is a short time, a hairs breadth above never
Seen within one eye blink, the lash will move forever
Perception throws curveball's, upon prismatic minds
Yet outside double slits, life-forms live completely blind
And voracious appetites, strip eyelashes of girth
Feeding on sebaceous oil, dines parasitic birth
Nibbling away, watching reality slip from sight
Getting up close and personal, with demodex mites
Making much from little, aiming to create new worlds
Eyelashes warp under pressure, turn inward and curl
Scratching the surface, observation now semi-blurred
Eyeballs driving us crazy, itch cannot be demurred
Lice-like creatures, slither up and down paying no tax
Using eyelids as havens, in remorseless attacks
Recombobulating dead skin, not the stuff of dreams
We rip earths orb to shreds daily, in monster machines
By
David Kavanagh
16x13
I walk outside to hear,
Nothing but whispers in my ear.
I have over stepped my boundaries,
Now there is no going back.
The crickets chirp,
The frogs croak,
The moth attacks the light,
The lizard s slurp,
This is no joke,
Whispers in the night.
All is well?
A question unanswered,
The coyotes sing there song.
The night will foretell,
I demurred
Where do I belong?
We make life hard sometimes,
Sometimes we cross the line,
Some of us want to meet.
Some try to make rhymes,
At times we feel sublime,
But we cannot admit defeat.
Care should be taken,
If lost, look for the beacon,
Light of redemption.
All, was at one time,
Waves crash upon the ocean floor,
A new beginning.
Do I start to climb,
What does my life have in store?
Maybe an ending.