Best Disarray Poems
Out there
With her flair for chasing inspiration
She draws you in her reason
Connecting dots and constellations
Tripping
She takes you by the hand
Her world as messy as her mind
You need a guide
And as you wade through her chaff
Her heaps of half thoughts
Her every whim expressed
The only thing you know for sure is
Out there exists
Date: 11.19.2019
Contest Name: Disarray
Sponsor: Nina Parmenter
I didn't crumble or drift off into a fade...
I shrugged off goodbyes faster then they were made...
Watched as they were dipped and soaked in my poetic rage...
As I threw a fist full of words against a framed blank page...
I sat and watched my emotions scatter artistically...
Like candles on a wall it poured in colors so intensely...
A portrait of a misguided soul that has lost its way...
To a poet who paints with a pen in seductive disarray...
Disarray
Within huge caverns of my disarray
fly interpreting birds with rainbow wings
well sung arrow-shot words, vanquish the grey
while they fly about, dawn's gleaming rays sing!
This radiant scene, stirs a weeping heart
as morn's bright colorful songbirds appear
red roses preen, as throat'ed music starts
I rise with glee, as joy replaces fear!
Sun then speaks with oak trees swaying in tune
as blue sky above more radiance casts
wind tags along, its soft breeze a nice boon
to harmony, as treasure ships flow past!
As red sun, its resplendent array gifts
tinge of sorrows, as beauty ends too fast
yet such fine manna, spirit so uplifts
that such brilliant gems may a lifetime last!
11/17/2019
Sponsor - Nina Parmenter
Disarray Contest
~~~
My old homeplace was left to deteriorate
A shambles of disarray showing it’s elderly state
Porch and door gray and weary from the years
Of wind and storm flailing their bitter beams
Ferns grow haphazardly along the garden edge
Whispers of disrepair shadowing the staircase
Making everything appear dismal and worn
Humbled house that was once my lovely home
Vines cling to the roof and I see a rosette smiling
Softly forming the illusion of charm along the gray
Dingy boards that were once painted with a joy
That filled up the site with pretty pictures of hope
Melancholy broods as I peep through a window
Losing my composure amid the apathy of chaos
That was once my dream come true, my heart
Singing songs of inspiration that has changed to
Verses of disorder and dismay due to the decay
Of this once happy place where I was raised
~~~
Decaying House Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
July 14, 2020
Head spinning, hands to the brow, eyes searching, nothing is found.
No whistleblower in sight, not here, not there, not anywhere!
But wait!! There’s a crime that has been committed somewhere!
Nervous witnesses with eyes darting, say they have heard NO bribes.
Some have never met the accused, some have not been in the timeline!
But wait! There has to be bribery out there on the horizon somewhere!
All of them testify with opinions because evidence cannot be provided.
But wait! The highest crime of the country has been committed!
The accused is not allowed to have counsel present to defend himself!
The accused is called a fraud, a criminal, instead of innocent until proven guilty!
Secret meetings with depositions are held behind closed doors in a bunker room!
Manufacturing testimony by ‘one side’ and others are not allowed inside!
A long awaited investigative report of information for the other side, not complete.
It is looming for the accusers, as they rush from dark, thunderous clouds.
Because God forbid, there may be some truth in this report that is brewing!
Every day, no due process happens as more heads spin, day after day after day!
As if one side holds the other hostage for the country to witness in our dismay!
But wait! Aren’t there two sides of this argument, with two sides of the story?
Two sides welcome to their own documents, evidence and witnesses to call?
No, there isn’t and suddenly, what is happening has never been seen!
Gavel slamming, opinions, arguments about tweets, hearsay and name calling!
Swirling around like a swarm of nasty bees ready to attack and sting!
That’s it! The ‘sting’ will bring impeachment of the president of our country!
The problem is, the sting hurts and who suffers from all this crazy disarray?
We the people, of a country that was once called the ‘UNITED’ STATES OF AMERICA! That's right the USA!
11/19/19
*Entry for the disarray poetry contest. Sponsor: Nina Parmenter
Struck by chaotic lightning,
fear of unknown fields of turmoil,
feeding my desire to break free from
the confusion I once wore like silk.
Cluttered mind full of intellect,
dalliances of memories nourishing
all that has been sown in fields of
disarray,
for my lips are muddled, and my touch
entangled in shambles of loss.
Topsy-turvy disruption bleeds through
the veins I carry like yesterday’s
incoherent baggage-
and
now I am left forsaken in a state of
visceral confusion.
Lead me not to the staircase I once
climbed when youth was full of poor
grimaces;
allow me to follow the path to a
threshold that bestows peace of mind,
relieved by all who know me-
but
that is just a dream
and I am not
as strong as I seem
Date: 11.22.19
Contest Name: Disarray
Sponsor: Nina Parmenter
BLESSED DISARRAY!
There’s one thing that’s assured in this physical world
More than death and taxation so physicists say
It’s the increase in entropy, time unfurled
Or in other words there will be more disarray
Now I’m not being morbid asserting this fact
(Only true without man sticking long finger in)
And there are some of us with compulsion to act
And resist ineluctable chaos and spin
But imagine the converse some might choose to hold
Each atom in total controlled and neat stack
Every instant with utter precision pre-told
And announced in a modern Old Moore’s Almanac
There are days when we feel: Just a moment! Hold on!
Could I have some more predictability sure
I’ve enough of this chaos so let it be gone
And I’ll live more like my perfect neighbour next door
But then what of the thrill when we once get it right
No not every time; that’s for slaves not the free
The uncertainty principle kept in our sight
Will give us some relief from that old ennui
So join with me to now go forth boldly and say
That perfection unlimited with no adverse
And no portion of spices of disarray
That alternate bland menu could be but a curse
Within my mind are dusty cobwebs
where drafty breathings edge the corners of remembering
as they hold in a picture stilled that looms,
unchanged but not for lack of a broom;
school books, pads and pens, and bookbag piled high,
uniform dress, blouse, and blazer on the bedroom floor,
shoes plopped in the corner still untied behind the door
covers tossed on an unmade bed, pillow puffed against the frame,
a waking dog with ears alert and a wagging tail ingrained;
I can easily dust and sweep the memories stored there.
The dim light of an old candescent lampshade bare,
shadows of my grandmother rocking in her chair.
Four o'clock as the cuckoo bows,
chains straining the weights up and down,
a baloney sandwich, a glass of milk, she sits waiting
at the small kitchen table, her rosary praying.
Bouncing in the door, hurried and ready to play around,
the smile rises on her face as she puts her knitting down
and with a hug and kiss, she takes me in her arms
as I struggle hurriedly pulling away from her charms,
anxious to go out and play
as she asks, what did you learn today?
Sit, eat, tell me of your day
and I rushing through every thought I could say,
full mouth jabbering of this one and that at school,
today, I've learned the golden rule,
family and the love they give
are all you ever really need to live.
I wish I could go back for just a moment in time
and relive those wonderful memories sublime
now gone
and pushed in the corridors of my mind.
Come slip
beneath
my skin
where time has
lost
its mind
where
angles slew askew
toward chaos
close behind
where
up
sees
hope
that
down
betrays
left
standing
unaware
that
right
goes toward
the
light
and
dark
collects despair
as you sit there
absorbing the calming rays of the morning sun
you read
and then realize how chaotic disarray is attempting to make love with harmony
in a world of insanity
while influencing your mind
during those moments in time
you interpret the “informative news”
as a need to amalgamate absurdities
with solutions for serenity
while initially resisting wishes and temptations of conformity
in your mind
during those moments in time
and then s l o w ly
you are confused by intellectual absurdities
losing clarity and sanity
and sometimes becoming a victim of hypocrisy
falling head first into the world’s quicksand of misery
which wants to swallow up your mind
during those moments in time
In an age
Where souls are pawned
For fame and wealth
A time when
Good and evil
Cease to war
A period where
Men passed, and
Weaklings arose
A place which
Breaks my heart
yet fuels my limbs
A land whose
Stain I loathe
But name I bear
A people who
Curse the stench
Yet eat the feces
Here, I’m to call home
Home or desert?
My path is vast
So I call it home
But journey it is
I hope to sleep
And wake in a time
Where men are men.
There's madness in enlightenment,
preferring darkly recesses of denial
whilst moon descends sensibilities,
shedding white powder florescence
fracturing every crack & crevice,
most days long to dwell
in oblivion, remembers it fondly,
before unicorns and monsters
became real and materialized
taunting duskiest memories
always knew in her bones
that something was askew,
fear and breathlessness
a huge part of her psyche,
on the surface she seemed
to have it together but,
her marrow was aware,
as dysfunctional trembled - -
nagging blitzed neurons,
felt its prevailing intrusiveness
a foreboding presence beckoning
in blindingly echoed vocalizations,
long before time even existed
She lives in continuous disorder,
tucked away within her own reflection
chaos extruding every wakeful moment,
powerless to cease mind-boggling adaptations
A Threat of W A R
So weep, dear world, as
The bear advances.
The bear with his trainer named Putin,
Loved by none, now not even his own.
So end your roar, dear bear!
As Putin thrills to cause disarray,
Loving his terror — that weapon
He’s loosed again, yet again —
On the world’s lesser…
His finger on a trigger,
Making the world tremble…
Against all sense, all reason,
Whipping the bear forward
Out of his rest,
Resisting, but
Still tromping forward, growling
And the world wailing.
Stay struggling, dear world,
To keep the mystery of peace working
Against more than a war to end all wars:
A war in these days, which would become
A war to end our world.
———————————————————
(c) sally young Eslinger 1/24/22
late …
summer eventide ...
I lay on the rug,
head by the window,
feet tended in the direction away
from your house ...
deliberately ... designedly ...
full moon drizzling its
cornflower bloom thru venetians,
dividing into soft, dripping
strips of liquid sapphire
that slather my skin with somber
streaks of twilight -
shredded like the ragged raiment
of my heart, and what's left of
my shirt - my favorite shirt -
the one you always wore to bed,
for me, for passion ... for us …
the one I JUST took off
and tore to ribbons,
soaked with the unholy
issue of wet from my eyes,
now strewn across my bare chest ...
in this bare room ...
ALL - clothes, love, life -
in disarray ...
the sea is breathing ...
regular balmy bursts of brine that
push the blinds away from
the sill, then relent ... push ... relent,
making the shadows part
like lips and purse,
just as a wee child blowing the thistle
off a dandelion, or the
way you'd wake me each morn,
parting my hair with
puffs of tea-scented breath,
until my lashes
batted open and sopped
up the splashes of your smile,
my fingers tunneling their
way through Egyptian cotton
to prize your softest, tickle-friendly spots ...
greeting the day with slow, sweet,
tender love-making ...
those thoughts quickly
perish, fizzling like white phosphorous ...
I am stone now,
as cold and sallow as the moon -
bloodless and stark,
with no breath but what the
ocean gifts me ...
my only tie to you now,
this moonbeam, a streak of wan
light that I shall grasp like
a wispy, tenuous rope, and hold on
with what will I have remaining -
with what semblance of
a spirit you've left me with ...
a rope of soft glow that is
now my only connection to you -
from my barren heart to
the mocking moon,
from the mocking moon to
your mocking love ... and you ...
this strand of moonlight
lustre will tie us, ever,
for if not, it will most assuredly find
its way 'round my throat, and I
can think of no more
fitting or beautiful
a thread
from which to …
dangle.
~ 4th Place ~ in the "Disarray" Poetry Contest, Nina Parmenter, Judge & Sponsor.
`
I’m just a poem in disarray
some words tossed on the page
A jumbled mess of things to say
that never act their age
Like stanzas baked in carrot stew
all mixed and mingled in
Nice woven thoughts on skies of blue
each evening that begin
Or lines without a golden crust
the frosting on the side
So read this if you think you must
or you can run and hide
There might be terms like diamond rings
for shining someone’s shoes
Some tiny fries called fingerlings
sold on the evening news
A basket I forgot to weave
with verses on a thread
If that is something you believe
it’s something that I said
A phrase or two out on display
the perfect scenic view
Or just a poem in disarray
penned on this page for you
11/15/19
Disarray Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Nina Parmenter