Best Disturbance Poems
This beating heart keeps haunting me in the dark,
When the sun walks steps to the surface, painting a glowing fade
I try to forget, no I do not need to pursue the missing element
For the element may have a substitute, mirroring characteristics of it, as well
But why does this aching not depart?
What pumps through these chambers is a sickness, tearing me apart
And in the night, when breathing doesn’t exist in presence,
Silent and still, except for the beating of this heart
This heart is isolated, and it screams woe with every thump
Surpass the disgust of it and hunt prey till successful
But the bait fails to attract my desire, and I am once again defeated
And the nibble, which also teases my wretched heart, leaves me beaten
The element persists in mystery, and I sense how unattainable it is
If only I could seek means of expressing how strongly I covet you
Your everything, but in importance, your scarlet ardor
Oh, how I would decease the beating of my disturbing heart for the life of your striking love,
But then, where would I go?
I feel as if my movement would perish without you, my love
So I wait, hands on the clock now ticking louder than my horrid heart
My heart battles time, impatient of the day I can obtain my element
But perfect element, I shall wait for you.
Pond Disturbance - Haiku
pond remains still born
clear, no bottom, quiet, cold
wind folds a ripple
Thunder
Blast in the hills
Destroying the peace
Of grass fields, softly brushed by
the breeze.
Cinquain poetry form
© CarolineCécile - 04.01.12
TRANQUIL DISTURBANCE -
The blades of palms in distant sight,
caress a wind of shallow breath ,
which soothes a tranquil sea.
The weeping clouds who reign the sky,
release its tears with soft , and humble shy.
Two tugs asleep in comfort zone,
Await its master's voice of tone.
A distant rock has cleared its head,
From ocean brandished sweeps .
Here gulls have flocked with chatter buzz,
To gather morning meet .
A ! hoy ! the masters voice …..
a restless tug awakes.
The echo startled gulls at rock,
as birds of flight to skyward take.
A rundown duplex in an old inner city place
The walls smeared with dog in an outright disgrace
It smelt of no hope and no future for her anyone more
The neighbours complained of loud music and bad language behind her door
We were called one evening and she answered to us
Bleary eyes and drunk she wondered at the fuss
The scars on her face a sad story told
Of a car crash that maimed her in drink and speed story so old
Photos showed there was a time when she was a good looker
Gone now forever living life as a low class hooker
When she spoke it was slurry and blubbery
Wanting something she couldn’t have in a horror story
We turned the music down and said it had to stop
In a useless charade they was all that we got
So we left to go back to the world
She remained there a lost soul with little left to be held
And alone she lived on in this downtrodden place
In filth as a struggle with no time or grace
I wrote on the log in upper case
Music turned down AQOL NFPA in the appropriate place
Once and a while we had to go back again
For a similar job and a result that would never an end.
© Paul Warren Poetry
101 is a police code for a disturbance.
I cant sleep,
repititions play over in my mind,
the first time he hit me,
the night he held me down and raped me,
laughing at my cries of pain,
the last time he beat me,
when I finally made him leave;
No, when my best friend made him leave.
I stood cowering, clinging to my sons small body,
terrified across the room,
his eyes could cut me like razor blades.
Last week I went to the grocery store,
I clung to my fiances sleeve like a lost child,
My eyes darted down every aisle,
for ghosts that were 300 miles away.
An old man, brittle, bumped into me,
grabbing hold my shoulders,
so neither of us would plummet to the hard flood,
he aplogized, I mumbled and turned quickly,
trying to steady shaking hands,
forcing air into lungs that begged to scream,
gluing still boots that begged to run.
I look forward to blackout exhaustion,
the fear of nightmares and flashbacks,
holds knives to the throat of my insomnia.
I delete my social media,
then sneak onto my grandmothers,
type in his name and see his spiteful words,
I know every angry letter is typed at me,
I fear his plotting,
I fear his eyes will see me through hidden screens,
He will find me, his fists will come.
Handfuls of hair dragging me to my knees,
to smack and punch my cheeks.
Tight fingers on my throat,
squeezing as I gasp to breathe,
clawing at his hands,
he places the pillow over my face.
I panic and scream inside my mind,
breathe god damnit, breathe.
The air is so thin, I am dizzy,
and so I lie still, slowly coming to a shallow breath.
Breathe very slowly, not too deeply,
put your claws away, he removes the pillow,
my tears stain the sheets.
Your noise defiles
colours now brick, mortar
grey and thudding
sinews of tranquility
screeching, curled up
tightness gripping,
thoughts overturned
distracted....
a harmony of notes
has been struck
damaged, distorted
but now at last - it's back
please stay!
Its sound - painful
exulting, wanting
yearning and twisting
a pit of harmony to
crush the chest
and bring forth
an exposition of tears
Stay here, stay a while
forever yearning
for the tranquility..
The Ravens had a fight this morning.
She threw him out of the house.
Not sure what she was yelling at him
But I think she called him a louse.
So outside the nest he went
And found a branch outside the door
And there he sat and sat and sat,
Guarding the nest and more.
No matter what has started the row
It's obvious to my eye
That he's a protective father
Who chose to stay, not fly.
So now her shrewish voice has stopped
Harping at her poor mate.
I feel sorry for those babes in the nest
If to listen to her is their fate.
The Ravens had a fight this morning.
She threw him out of the nest.
In a few months they will have moved on,
I guess that's for the best.
Warmth of a disturbance
When energy travels
With wings of passion through
Water, air and land. The
Wax and wane of moon stirs
Waves of ocean to swell:
Whirls of soft ebb and flow.
Date: 05/10/2021
Submitted for: Pleiades W Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Kim Merryman
This merciless tyrant,
Tormentor of souls
Chooses trusting young
Leslie as prey
He scrambles her thoughts
And darkens her moods
Each dawn brings
The same stormy day.
Alone and adrift
On an ocean so vast
She’s as lonely
And lost as can be
But on the distant horizon
Gleams a gold, welcoming shore
That no one but Leslie can see.
Snow laying casual on tree-branch fingers
suddenly startled, falls to the ground,
beaten to its refuge by a bullet wearing blood.
A small disturbance we call hunting.
Our youth in eagerness spreading
to cover in life what we cannot touch in death.
Surrendering moments we do not bleed
to spread like slow molasses
over brittleness of bone;
melting snow, evaporating rain,
growing less eager to conquer,
moving to a place of understanding,
borrowed from a time we do not own.
Now, a missing moment of time arrives
and you are here to greet it.
recked but pay no heed and through the wood's
to a gas station though some path witch thought it was warning
thick and dark
couldn't have caught me
a rock 25 yard's to the left
it was early and they were on brunch
the stand still stood off silent
not even a twig snap in sight
TIMES AGONY THOUGHT
UNFULFILLED AMBITIONS FOUGHT
When my joy was a tad to joyful
To your liking and your taste
I remembered to stop smiling
And I did so too with haste
I would not show my elation
Nothing was to my delight
I would speak not of contentment
And for you that was just right
For I dare not spoil your moments
Since you could not stand my bliss
In your presence I’d be careful
Or something would go amiss
Fond were you of my dejection
That alone would do you good
That is when you would be happy
And this fact I understood
For my joy was a disturbance
Yes, you made it a big deal
So, I chose to hide my gladness
To make your happiness seem real.
Wendy Nipas
A loud noise jars my senses
Rips me away from creative thoughts
And steals my inner serenity.
Is it a passing truck back-firing?
Or a teenagers glass-pack shouting
"Notice me, you fool,
I am
Macho man!"
written August 2, 2021