Best Disarranged Poems
Out in the middle of a large farmland, I become a girl of old charm and unexpected songs again. Past the flanks where cluttered rows of hyacinths and ferns quiver, disarranged huts begin to shake as the rough wind wheezes. And on this late July, mounds of dust remind me of summers back in my grandfather’s hometown. Yet, a different vanishing overtakes me.
a season passes…
carrying all its flowers
to emerge as buds
11/19/2015
Creative Haibun Contest
For Charlotte Jade Puddifoot
I enter an arch of disarranged hill
Blinded by darkness; thick the skin of air.
My lips quiver into whispers, until
Feathers so lucent appear from nowhere.
Sweet voice of cherub awakens a thrill
Listening to her psalm of light, sincere.
While fragrance of comfort wafts on flowered breast
Angel of dove wheels far, granting me rest.
Angels Contest of Nayda Ivette Negron
Feminine perception of spirituality disarranged.
Scroll,
Her bed quilt in the darken moments of the immortality.
Soften mental touch of her inner womanly,
Shoulder of tender hearten listening are all her begging tears request.
Only wondering twilights letter writings to weep upon into words.
Heart's trail with guidance endured by perfume ink of her soul,
How she bares her spirit womb in ungodly pain,
Naked to be heard in unloved screams.
Greatly needed in the reading of the opposite realm .
For we lapse daily in pride,
Yet?
In victory can we read and become greatly into the conquering of,
"The fall of man."
He left by the Eastern Gate
Slipping through the fading light
Before they closed the city
Against fast approaching night.
They first tumbled in the grass
Under a tree still growing there,
Her skirts as disarranged
As the wind disarranged her hair.
He had loved her with a passion
But a love that had to sadly end,
For while he loved her as a lover,
She had just loved him as a friend.
He stood at her wedding
Then before it was too late
Slipped from their city
Through the Eastern Gate.
She missed him for a long time,
But as time slipped surely by
She could recall his name
With regret and maybe a sigh.
Sometimes at the Eastern Gate,
With a casual sort of care,
She lays bouquets of flowers
By a tree still growing there.
Millions and millions with one stone gone.
Killed by their own wrongs
From negating a path strong.
But oh, a picture perfect life shown
With three children in the form.
Altered destiny to hinder success seen.
Today, their fate is perceived. to be a ruminated future confound from all their deceits.
One stone with millions and millions of lives wrought into a mental mirage.
A figurative arrangement disarranged for other’s illegal espionage.
Fabrications documented as a true act found life attacked.
Victimization attracted by hate fashioned the image repudiated.
But oh, a path strong formed.
The life negated held on.
Today, a just soul.
Augmentation of knowledge and wisdom transformed the home front.
A sphere of influence henceforth.
An entity of a government provided the acumen.
But oh, a picture perfect life was empowered by the mendacities told.
A sage is in transition to manifest reform.
These days’ spuriousness is ameliorated by yesterday’s social injustices.
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Written December 24, 2015!
Love can be complicated
Like a disarranged puzzle that is passed by daily
No one bothers to put the broken pieces together
All alone, waiting for that special touch
To embrace each piece with gentleness and care
When that special mind that longs to complete and discover the beautiful image
That no one has yet to bring to fruition
The smile that can be seen through the eyes which sees all the perfect imperfections
Making the puzzle so unique and dope its own way
Far from any other puzzle
Challenges unraveling this particular artwork
The optimistic mind brought to life
Which makes the appreciation last forever
Love
Complicated, yet worth the wait
From light to dark, I am filled with delusion
Of memories unknown, of emotional strain
Like a hermit to words in moments dismembered
When time became a riddle, a crazed labyrinth
That each flashback becomes a nightmare
Documenting nothing , not even a whimper.
A quiet wail rattles of stories, from where?
Her web of remembrance, disarranged,
Embalming vignettes from thoughts fading fast
When tremors besiege, yet I suppress the angst;
Till I ask, ‘Woman of fog, scream my name,’
Before fiction becomes a chained reality.
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11/21/2015
Contest: Mirror Of Memories 'Alzheimer's'
Sponsor: Tammy Reams
the back-door window has laughed at misery
broken
deformed
my hands excited the center
a catastrophic introduction
together they depart
the perimeter remains behind and above
a complete separation
sever
abandon direct
we are one
memories are scars
to be fragmented is natural
organization is forced
the back-door window
now paralytic
disarranged
chaos
so mathematical
so perfectly dispersed
waste
garbage
art
Listen to this as a song!
http://www.soundclick.com/bands/page_songInfo.cfm?bandID=41813&songID=8892751
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When thunder howled to burn the sky
as lighting rods seemed to betray,
this night so bleak, it can’t defy
wild rainstorm flooding streets in gray.
Till darkness sprawled like ghostly frame
when thunder howled to burn the sky,
to crush each tree and post aflame
and even drowning birds nearby.
Lives feared the wrath of sea’s outcry
for tempest burst on gates ,enraged
when thunder howled to burn the sky
invading more homes disarranged.
I watched the sun clear lanes’ debris
when daytime came pricked like cacti;
a terror wiping city’s glee
when thunder howled to burn the sky.
Shadow Hamilton's Scary Moments
*Snapshots of Haiyan Typhoon Disaster, 2013*
Written 5/26/2014
Public Back Stabber
You gave me life and breath, Yes thank you,
You feed me and house me, Yes thank you,
You educated me and tutored me, Ye thank you,
You loved me as some hated me,Yes thank you,
You smiled at me as they scowled, Yes thank you,
You treated me as they shown me back,Yes thank you,
You gave me joy as they rob it, Yes thank you,
You aligned me when i disarranged my poles, Yes thank you,
You tossed me when i was thirsty, Yes thank you.
But...!
Was that an authentication to stab me? No i don't think so!
Was that a sacrament to tarnish me? No thank you,
Was that sauciness to serve yourself with sauce of brag? No i don't think so!
Was it a rubric to talk ill of me? No thank you,
Was it an impudence to majestic-ate yourself to me? No i don't think so!
Was it an intrepidity to maul me down from those i love? No thank you,
Was it an ordinance for you to grill me to thrash? No thank you
A clone of stout backstabber stamped itself from you,
Let your giventh left hand not seen by your receiventh right hand,
Stop backstabbing me!
Visions Beyond the Horizon
The doctor incised the umbilical cord, the nurse held him by heel,
They waited; the baby cried not; the nurse nudged and he giggled;
The baby giggled again; new mom laughed; doctors just haggled;
The new age baby breathed normal; ancient medic annals to heal
Had no entries; baby crying on first breath norm, they had a ***** feel;
Like POTUS, medics threw up arms, helpless to his tantrum. Cuddled
By mom, he slept and giggled, never cried for milk. With heads muddled
They fiddled with the issue; he woke up giggling, laughing for family weal;
But it was strange, people thought it his harangue; he was deranged,
Some claimed. He crawled around sparring worries with laughing queries,
And it was strange, people thought. Their frowns chilled the entire loving bond,
And in expiation the mom showed the cradle, as they stood like dolls disarranged
In Walmart malls, waiting to be billed; the infant spoke, dispelling all their queries
And opened their minds; with closed eyes, they saw visions from horizons beyond!
I sink my hands into the ledge of a shore,
wheezing gentle ripples form;
Order disarranged.
Curious- curious as I became something e l s e
Drifting flakes of myself,
Kalaiedoscopic
Like tiny spot in a grain
Within this moment
High-speed prisms of chaos
In russet and chrome, purple onyx emerge
Watching them spinning inside my chest
There is no reality, though.
I rivet along a sea
Daring the crest that wades, so impusively,
Existence rubbing my flesh, as I sink my hands into the ledge of a shore.
Get Your Scissors Out: Cut-Up Poems/Word Collage
For Charlotte Puddifoot
A century echoed incantations
Of a language in psalms and eulogies;
Each decade bearing plagues, wars disarranged
While men embraced time’s deep lamentations .
Although hearts roughened by dead rhapsodies,
The victories of warm brotherhood reigned
Cultivating world solace blessed by grace.
Titles From Novels sponsored by Nette Onclaud
June 6, 2016
A Hundred Years of Solitude
Form: 10 syllables each , using abcabcX rhyme
I see streams afar off,
Yet it seems closer than I would beckon.
I sense pains far away in a long haul,
In the fullness of time, its nigh the door of my heart.
It's choking hard, I feel the streams so near.
It's filling up to the beam of my eyes moments after another.
It's rather full, my eyes are burning dim.
A close up to reality in a shattered state.
Feels good to let it out, to embrace actuality.
It's no game of being strong in weak strength.
ways I give to weakness as i shed my life out.
The streams are almost here at the brinks of my eyes.
I have strayed way off the path.
My lanes of constraint, my cap of honor.
Those which I call principles, scared tenets.
I have sold dignity with cheap coins,
and worthless my integrity stands at trial.
Do I consider self esteem in a meaningless revival?
I seek a baton from shame to earnest pity.
I pray for self respect, just to amount as something.
To be counted as estimable in valuation.
I want to wear pride with self-consciousness.
And leave aside frivolous escapade of stained regrets.
Die in flesh and awake myself in Christ.
I'm tired of living a disarranged life in lust.
I'll rather a flip over from shame to grace.
where is mitchel, mother?
What has happened to mitchel, mother?
There is nothing in his room except an ancient
book and by its side a written note .
All his toys and balls gone in an exile.
Why is he not among us during morning prayers?
And everyone seems to be sad
Speaking through our spirits .
Why is his bed disarranged,
the mattress on the ground howling
His wardrobe opened and no one bothered?
Why do you shake your head , papa?
And why is mama wailing in the dark ?
someone should tell me what has happened to mitchel
Before i go mad for the sake of our love.
You said its nothing serious at all but
I heard him roared in the night
Frightened like a frog chased by the snake.
Was it a nightmare that i saw them taken him away?
A man in white gown, black skin and hair cut in a fashionable manner.
His note read thus" i am gone, goodbye Vincent"
Is mitchel really died? is mitchel gone for ever mother?
Please bring him back to me, mother.
We both have a dream to conquer corruption and injustice
Among humans especially the politicians.
And now he is gone before the new rain,
to an unknown land.
Why do you and papa cry as if no other option,
Get mitchel for me mother and
Never allow him to belong to the freezer
He is too handsome for that.
So death could be so unkind and cruel to mitchel
The handsome lad, a dream weaver of all time.