Best Dishevelled Poems
‘Tis You’
It’s a tempestuous, wuthering, wuthering day
as I set forth exuberant and merrily on my way.
I pause to hearken to the symphony of sound
as natures harmony plays and swirls all around.
Ignited flaming thoughts to fill a love sonnet
as I march on and grasp my dishevelled bonnet.
Singing with a lilt - the moors copious with heather,
I am blown to and fro like a weightless feather.
I hither towards the midst of my burning desire;
Longing making my feet rapid as if on fire.
If I was today my sweet love, my kiss to miss,
Nay - I must not surrender and think only bliss.
Romance - oh the seductiveness of it all!
Cascading down upon me like a waterfall.
Each rising, descent, of the sun as day goes down,
Submerged in his love I rhapsodically drown.
Since thine I have always pledged to forever be,
My ravenous eyes shall only seek to find thee.
I surge on until the glorious sight that I behold
appears suddenly before me like a treasure of gold.
The apparition manifests and it seems to glisten
as I catch my breath through squally weather to listen.
A tuneful, loud whistle from a source closest to my heart,
A call for lovers to reunite - no longer apart.
I knew my love would come being no creator of sorrow,
And I shall yearn again for him till it be morrow.
Thou art more to me than my own self - all life together;
He of sun-rays, moonbeams, his divine light altogether.
Joyful musical notes, a bonnet, in the wind left behind,
As I cry out ‘tis you’ and in loving arms, myself, I find.
Categories:
dishevelled, love, romance,
Form:
Idyll (Idyl)
He was the child that did not smile, or live
or breath, towards his death he did not look
as though he had the time to duck and dive
he was taught to live or die by the book
Bruised and battered in a dishevelled state
hiding in corners wrapped only in tears
he, deprived of love, a child they did hate
starved of food, under the stairs, hiding fears
Then justice stepped in and took him away
to a home full of love, fun and laughter
in that tormented life he could not stay
as one so young he could not look after
He grew into a man without a care
Adopted a child, saved them from despair.
©1/3/2014
Shackled
Deprived of freedom then held as a slave
mental torture, in every race and creed
trapped in a void, while trying to be brave
inside looking out, a broken heart bleeds
Tormented, abused, while home is their jail
shunned by a partner and tainted with lies
no contact with friends including no mail
then pushed to the brink each day they despise
Whispered sweet nothings, then captured by love
charmed to the alter, their vows they both read
the cracks appear, as does a boxing glove
sentenced to life for an innocent deed
With prayer and patience they will be released
A living hell at the hands of a beast.
1/3/2014
Note* This is a double sonnet. I used the same title
for both as these despicable crimes can happen to
anyone of any age in any country and we should not
close our eyes to the fact that it could be happening
in our neighbourhood to people we know…
Categories:
dishevelled, anti bullying,
Form:
Sonnet
On a Sussex farm works a golden haired girl
Surrounded by guys as she makes their hearts twirl
But her love and soul are miles away
In a Highlanders heart, she hopes to meet one day.
Its nearly a year since they were first in touch
As she's grown to adore him oh so much
Her delight will be, is too invite him down
And show him round her lovely town.
Her joy and smiles, as she holds his hand
Her heart pounding as she feels a million grand
Stopping for cuddles as they share a kiss
With her Highlander she's in sheer bliss.
The countryside where this English Rose stays
Flowering crops grow and animals graze
Noisy tractors Harvesters reap
Under a blistering sun, the baaing of sheep.
In her yellow dress, flowing golden hair
She takes his hand, as they climb the stair
Above up here is where we keep the hay
Again she takes his hand and down they lay.
Facing each other they start to kiss
This English rose in her mind she wish
To share her body with her Highlander
To adjoin their bodies as their loving stirs.
As they undress each other on this summers day
Bare skin warms the golden hay
Passions flow as their hands explore
Loving scent from their loving pores
Joys and sighs, they feel their bodies mix
Emotions and feelings in adrenalin fix.
Warmed and content,consumed in each others arms
Two heavenly bodies sharing each others charms
Kissing and cuddling on the flattened hay
As they stand up and look where they just once lay.
Dishevelled clothes, hair astray
This loving couples summers play
Standing embrace their bodies quiver
Holding hands they head to the river.
At the river bank they undress each other
Under a shaded green leafy cover
Her naked body and long golden hair
Makes him proud to be standing there.
As they enter the river
They caress and wash each other
Under this shaded leafed cover
They kiss and embrace to share their love
Under the leafy tree, chirping birds all above.
Heading home hand in hand
This loving couple feeling two million grand
They head to bed, spooned and cosy
This Highlander and his English Rosie.
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/love.php
Categories:
dishevelled, love, hair, body, river,
Form:
Rhyme
oh lovely bed, dishevelled bed,
warm and cosy snuggle bed
too nice to get out of bed
too big for one it should be shared
crisp clean sheets, to curl the toes bed,
pack of pillows for my head.
duvet to wrap around me, bed
wish you served meals, need to be fed.
coffee and toast make it a special bed
crumbs to lie on, isn’t good it’s said
best you throw me out, get a shower,
oh bed, can I sneak back in an hour,
my bed I love you.
Penned 11th April 2013
Categories:
dishevelled, funny,
Form:
Couplet
Haphazardly,
Infinity and affinity mingled,
In an asymmetry imbalance.
A dishevelled universe,
Grew and shrank as fire devoured,
Yet ice sustained.
Outrages currents swirled,
Straightened, dispersed, and garnered,
Dissipated into nothing,
Only to surge again and again and again.
Until a soft soothing spirit unfurled itself,
Protracting into every nook,
Fire and ice detached their selves
Into their proper assumed place,
Light and darkness found their proper place.
How harmonious was creation now!
Categories:
dishevelled, creation,
Form:
Free verse
She had a bit of a problem
Of which she was reluctant to disclose
Her wardrobe was full to overflowing
With a wild array of clothes
She justified this behaviour
By insisting it was cheap stuff
Purchased from the op shops
She couldn't get enough
Because it was so cheap
She'd buy three things instead of one
Her shirts multiplied in dozens
And her dresses by the tonne
The day eventually arrived
The wardrobe door would close no more
The drawers were overstuffed
Things were piled up on the floor
Clearly drastic action was needed
And obviously, without a doubt
This would require some discipline
And red wine to sort it out
Hours later, knackered and dishevelled
She had reduced her clothing stash
She promised never to repeat this mistake
And instead save herself the cash
She staggered to the op shop
Weighed down with bags of gear
But naturally, there was a sale on
And really, she had nothing left to wear...
Categories:
dishevelled, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
The smoldering sun shines incessantly
Until the earth’s humidity hastens
The forming of cinereal clouds calmly covers
The spacious skies above and suddenly
Gentle rain soft but steady
Begins to fall, splattering and wetting the soil.
The pitter-patter pronounces a petrifying tune
Upon the roofs, amorous rondel tunes.
Oh, how I love the fresh feeling of the rain.
I feel like singing in the heavenly showers
I get dishevelled and drenched.
Yet I will sing a symphony of love,
For I am happy even more.
Love is in the air.
Thank God, no lightning spoils the sky.
Yet it rains even more.
The grass is even greener now.
It sparkles with dewy drops,
And sheds its pleasant petrichor,
A harmonious and happy fragrance
In our vast verdurous vale.
Meantime my Mary joined us in the melee`,
We dance a Dougie under the deluge,
Until tired we went in for a warm shower…….
Placed 2nd
Categories:
dishevelled, rain, summer,
Form:
Free verse
Recruit Division
I never applied to join the Army, a nice man phoned me,
He said I was the type they liked, with a steel certainty,
Plus he happened to mention the nurses on the way,
And the simple matter of doubling up my pay,
I signed.
So after having passed some sort of fitness tests,
I puffed quite a bit, but certainly tried my best,
I found myself, as many a medic knows,
To the town of Ash Vale, near a certain lady rose,
I’d signed.
Now as I walked, fashionable hair dishevelled,
There ahead of me, was a soldier whose back was upright and level,
So I called out, ‘Sorry to bother you mate, is the way for the Keogh camp gate’?
And the RSM made it very clear, that I would find it and him, certainly quite near,
Now I’d signed.
Within the breath of a watching gnats eye,
My hair was gone, no time to wonder why,
Everything seemed to happen with rapid and specific shouts,
Part of me was now wondering, a modicum of doubt,
Why I’d Signed?
Over the months to follow, each day a tired tomorrow,
I learnt about guns and bangs and running for fun,
Whilst far out on the expanse of the drill square,
A Russian yelled ‘Moy Et’ with a certain disposition,
Signing was my decision.
Now behind that drill square ran the main London line,
So we would be doing things, everything looking fine,
When the London train would pass, thundering on time,
And I tried not to grin at the phrase, ‘I left you in this position’,
Glad I signed.
I discovered a new world of dead fly biscuits,
Often so hungry the compo was worth risking it,
And how far a bed could fly, without seeming to try,
Or how proud I was as my bulled boots, not asking why,
I’d signed.
There was the nine second rule, certainly a gas,
Although they’d not mentioned they would take off the mask,
As each of us fit and healthy blokes,
Laid on the grass, throat burning chocked,
But I signed.
Finally a day arrived, escape from the camp,
Helping my granddad walk up the ramp,
Parents watched on as their son stood up,
Second best recruit, but no second cup,
Proud I’d signed.
Andrew Carnegie, Reminiscing Aldershot, 14th Jan 2017.
Categories:
dishevelled, graduation, grandfather, men, military,
Form:
Cinquain
seahorse all skewiff
disordered and dishevelled
leaves us astonished
Categories:
dishevelled, nature, sea,
Form:
Haiku
To Don Quixote, Translation of Paul Verlaine’s sonnet : A Don Quichotte
(Poem written in March 1861 that I would Verlaine had
dedicated to the Grand Dear Old Man of Letters : Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra - with kind permission, of course, sought by me and which I know he wouldn’t withhold. T. Wignesan)
O ! Don Quixote, medieval princely champion, incomparable
Bohemian,
Only in vain does the absurd and vile crowd laugh at you :
You died as a martyr and your life remains a poem,
And the windmills wronged you, O ! King true !
Always keep going, keep going, protected by your faith,
Astride your fantastic charger that I cannot but love.
Sublime gleaner, forward ! – those the law wraps in moth
Balls are more numerous, more staggering than bygone days
enough.
Hurrah ! We follow in your steps, we, the saintly horde of poets
Dishevelled, our heads wrapped in verveine tights.
Lead us on to assault high-strung fantasies,
And soon enough, in spite of every form of treason,
Up on high will flap our winged standard of Poesies
Over the hoary skull of our inept reason !
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
Categories:
dishevelled, fantasy, poets,
Form:
Sonnet
Let me tell you my story about my behind bars blues
For doing something I shouldn't, now too much to lose
It all happened quite a few years ago when I was a boy sixteen
Living on the Dublin estates, where you had to be part of the scene
Gangs became part of the culture, live here you'll see what I mean
Generation after generation, it appears to be in our genes
I close my eyes to recall, whilst a shiver runs down my spine
As I follow my steps that night, still scared of what I'll find
We, me and my gang, readily terrorised our streets
Frightened of no one we were, no matter whom we'd meet
Then came that Friday night down at the local bar and grill
A Rock Band played in the corner, Thin Lizzy, their guitars spill
Next thing all hell breaks loose, a rival gang enters en masse
No prisoners were taken, no creed, colour or class
Amidst the chaotic scenes you could hear the flick of a blade
Into flesh that was previously perfect, a member makes his grade
Scattered echoes resonate, shouting and cursing extends
Screams of fading life bellows, as another knife internally bends
Broken glass now glistens in pools of crimson red
Dishevelled clothed creatures, lie punctured close to dead
Sirens out of nowwhere wail, flashing blues descend
Another Friday night downtown, societies current trend
I stand in frenzied stare, a redded steel gripped in my hand
Me becoming one of many, that a parent had never planned
At sixteen years old I have been taken, but I see another day
There were three on that fateful night, who never came back to play
Liberty was never a word, that ever entered our thoughts
Or even the others we inflicked, whom we brought to nought
The day I stood in the dock, knowing behind bars blues were near
At sixteen years old going inside, it's now my turn to fear
* For Miranda's "Behind Bars Blues" contest *
Categories:
dishevelled, life, loss, people, placesnight,
Form:
Couplet
The Publican and the Pharisee went for a walk after church
One wore pride and majesty, the other the marks of the birch
“I say, my man,” said the Pharisee, “will you tell if I come to the pub?”
“Nay, it makes no odds to me, and we do some cracking grub”
The Publican and the Pharisee quaffed back a couple of jars
And then another two, then three, for such is the way in bars
And as they drank their wine, an odd phenomenon occurred
The crown of hubris lost its shine, the marks of the birch became blurred
“I say, my man,” said the Pharisee, “I’m feeling a little *****”
The Publican chuckled, mischievously, “I reckon a short, and some beer”
The Pharisee, unused to drink, began to loose a screw
Became dishevelled, sweaty, pink, made a desperate run for the loo
Got locked in for a while, and had to crawl under the door
Got stuck, well hey, you have to smile, for half an hour or more
Was rescued by some rugby blokes, who loaned him some spare kit
And made up lots of witty jokes, about Pharisees covered in it
The Publican, sat at the bar, surveyed his sorry state
He wondered if he’d gone too far, in setting up his mate
“Just sit,” he said, “and listen well, for this I have to say
If I am surely bound for hell I’ll meet you on the way
You are no better, sir, than I, no better, and no worse
Your spiritual wealth is an arrogant lie, and your pride is a cardinal curse
I’m no angel, I confess, but hypocrisy, mate, I abhor
I reckon I should grovel less, and you just a little bit more”
The Pharisee gave a little nod, and hiccupped in assent
Muttered softly “Sorry God,” and got his coat and went
The Publican then rang the bell, poured out a short and sat
“Oh come on, God, you know the bloke, he really asked for that”
© Gail Foster 2016
Categories:
dishevelled, bible, drink, gospel, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
Across The Universe
Life’s tapestry had brought me from the rugged Welsh Coast
to ‘Egoli’ The City Of Gold’ a place of dreams in South Africa
I wished for so much and so little just heal from the weight
of black dogs on my shoulders and a soldiered out mind
Everything in tatters the mosaic torn fragments dishevelled
black batik on the canvas sexy lace far from realistic realm
With the Sun God watching me in rehabilitation from booze
and delusion I painted love in the soil with Jacaranda petals
A purple display of what could not have been foreseen as
some ‘inmate’ before me had dressed up wish’s desperation
Her heart on the lawn in those petals in an innocent message
across and upon the Universe made match and soul’s mate
Colour and passion drew us together a beeline without
knowing what was what who was who just knowing it was
Sharing and caring 'The Little Prince' Leonhard Cohen Bach’s 'Illusion'
'Alice’s Restaurant' drawing like magnets joined desire miracle love
New fires exploding a tsunami of feelings trust intuition and magic
one string with two puppets from heaven we went to the movies
‘Across the Universe’ anti-establishment and melodious Beatles
orchestrated sizzling fingers embraced hands and hearts together
Christmas Day almost a decade ago and still going we eloped
together best friends lovers and no idea of the journey before us
That less trodden path gifted us divine bliss and gave us that most
unconventional Christmas present we longed for so much and so long
23rd December 2016
Categories:
dishevelled, birthday, christmas, love, memory,
Form:
Free verse
Medusa’d
dishevelled,
and snake oiled gleaming
That day of grey Tuesday was remediously teeming
Simply chilli,
chopped onion,
or tragedy-eyed streaming
Girls Gone Wilderness,
cling-filminess;
two sopping wet cupfuls
I opened, then poured some number of n-tuples
We were one o’ those
fight nail,
tooth pick olive,
and lemon twisted couples
Categories:
dishevelled, girlfriend-boyfriend, love
Form:
Epyllion
The garden used to look spectacular
With lawn trimmed and pattern made
No old heads on the flowers
These were removed as they were dead.
The pool was always glistening,
The sun reflected like a jewel
You stopped to listen to the Robin singing
Letting you know life is cool
Nowadays it looks dishevelled
Lawn not cut and pool not gleaming
The garden tools are gathering dust
In the old shed where they're leaning
Since the last time that he used them
Hands now gnarled and legs won't work
Soon he will be taken for a short break
A surprise for him awaits his return
We close his eyes and lead him outside
Sat him down on a freshly painted seat
Said right open them now Tadcu*
Your garden is back waiting for you to sit.
Those old tools have done their work
No longer will they gather dust
Cos the family pulled together
have hired a gardener that they trust.
We left them heads together
Planning how the garden will look
Tadcu's*happy smiling face
Sitting, remembering with his gardening book.
* Tadcu - Grandfather
Categories:
dishevelled, garden, pride,
Form:
Rhyme