Best Dither Poems
when i pass
i will linger on in a few memories
a few nanoseconds in man's history
place no stone above me
with some name easily forgotten
never bury me in the earth
in some hollowed-out cavity
waiting for some delusional day
when cemeteries reach some prophecy
looking like a Wack-A-Mole celebration
cremate me and scatter the ashes
in some pleasant meadow
where i may luxuriate in bathing
in the Bose-Einstein condensation
as the sun rises with the solar wind
perchance an ash lights upon a blossom
a bee gathers pollen
i cling to its toil and escape in flight
hither and dither on the hives path
let me spend a full moon
in silvery shadows that dance
amidst the mockingbirds' song of the night
or rejoice in a tempest roaring
as the trees dance in God's metronome
His power dancing across the sky
in a glorious burst of light
please a meadow of promised halcyon days
where the mortal is scattered in gratitude
of what was so miraculous
to touch, to see, to taste, to smell
blessed with the senses
yet the grandest of them all
for i was given an entitlement
graced with the gift to love
in that first breath was my eternity
when the sun runs dry and expands
all have perished at Jupiter's gates
let my mortal existence return
from which it sprang
the fruition of that breath is home
where space and time harbor no path
where it was commanded
let there be light
OKC 9/22
Nervous as a harried hen, Mom was in a dither
Would wedding guests be kept away by the winter weather?
My cheeks so rosy from the sting of howling, bitter winds
White lace and pearls, car door opened and a young girl stepped within
Fresh mums adorned the altar of “Our Lady by the Sea”
Blue bridesmaid angels led the way; John waited lovingly
Vows exchanged as God smiled down, crystal kisses danced in air
The reception band played merrily, all invited were there
Many guests remarked they’d never seen a happier bride
At midnight John took my ring-adorned hand, we ventured outside
Snow drifts piled ‘round the cars, Great Nor’ Easter just ending
My mate high on love (and champagne), wheels on highway spinning
Pulling into a gas station, trying to get a grip
Still in my bridal gown as the dipping temperatures nipped
The station attendant ran out and smiled, he’d seen us reel
But we were laughing and trading places behind the wheel
My tipsy spouse in a tux, truly a sight to behold
When we reached our new home, I carried HIM o’er the threshold'
For John's "Winter" contest
Nervous as a harried hen, Mom was in a dither
Would wedding guests be kept away by December weather?
My cheeks so rosy from the sting of howling, bitter winds
White lace and pearls, car door opened and a young girl stepped within
Fresh mums adorned the altar of “Our Lady by the Sea”
Blue bridesmaid angels led the way; John waited lovingly
Vows exchanged as God smiled down, crystal kisses danced in air
The reception band played merrily, all invited were there
Many guests remarked they’d never seen a happier bride
At midnight on Christmas Eve John took my hand; we ventured outside
Snow drifts piled ‘round the cars, Christmas Nor’ Easter just ending
My mate high on love (and champagne), wheels on highway spinning
Pulling into a gas station, trying to get a grip
Still in my bridal gown as the dipping temperatures nipped
The station attendant ran out and smiled, he’d seen us reel
But we were laughing and trading places behind the wheel
My tipsy spouse in a tux, truly a sight to behold
When we reached our new home, I carried HIM o’er the threshold
*For an Angel's contest!
If my love were to be frozen in time
would its enamored glow forever remain
as poetry in a book, Sonnets written in rhyme?
If in flakes of snow, my heart was encased
would my affection wax and never wane?
It's said a heart without passion is frigid
and incapable of feeling torrid emotion,
but if winter frost glazed o'er me, a rose,
do you suppose my love would become rigid?
Nay! It would survive with endless devotion.
What of spring, when then I would thaw?
Would my tears mingle with melting ice?
Perish that thought for being profound,
for my love harbors no fault, foible, nor flaw.
The sting of cold is a meager sacrifice.
I will never be cloaked in withered petals
no wilting will be found in my tender bloom.
My ardor will not shrivel like dried nettles,
and no demise of my love will ever occur,
nor darkling days shrouded in sullen gloom.
No matter the harsh chill of Winter's season,
do not dither in despondent shadows,
for I will plead innocent, "Not guilty of treason!"
You've no need to fear woes of despair,
for nothing can weaken the bond we share.
Love avowed as truth, through eternity will last,
a promise etched across the breadth of my heart.
In realms of desire, I promise to linger with you,
and to this fervent pledge, I will hold steadfast
until the villain, mortality, wrests us apart.
February 6, 2023 / 2022 Poetry Marathon Qualifiers' FINAL Placement Poetry Contest / Sponsor: Mark Toney
July 28, 2022
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 10
Sponsor ~ Mark Toney
Each book in my library must be read, each one, each and every one,
vagrant, homeless papers must find a forever home, I must
edit, amend, revise, reword and condense a poem-
Rattled, I search for my keys, oh collywobbles!
Yearning for tranquility instead of this constant dither and tizzy, and
daunting days of jitters, willies, shivers and heebie-jeebies,
and my heart in a knot of anxiety!
Yes, I have days of cliffhanging moments!
Inside my soul, I just want to dilly-dally,
silent, I want to make each day count, but
apprehension and anticipation always keep me on tenderhooks.
Consternation, worry and anxiety, creep, creeping, and
like an unsettled butterfly, I flutter befuddled.
Inside my soul, I just want to lollygag!
Fearful, I face each new day undaunted, taking
first one step, then another and on and on and on . . .
hoping my distress is unseen and undetected.
And I step off the cliff that is my life each morning, oh
no one can escape some anxious days, of
go here, go there, get this and get that, oh collywobbles!
Edit, amend, revise, reword, and condense a poem, but really,
really I love my crazy, hectic, unpredictable, anxious life!
_______________________
February 24, 2017
Poetry/Acrostic/Everyday is a Cliffhanger
Copyright Protected, ID 17- 879-893-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
When I first came on the stage of poetry soup,
You greeted me with encouraging words;
Then slowly we became the best of poetic friends forever,
You gifted me with a Lifetime Membership just because;
Now you are an angel in heaven watching over me.
Another forever friend who I call on for help,
She sure knows grammar and punctuation;
And her rhyming and meter is always perfection to behold,
When I am in a dither she is there to help me to do it right;
I can send a soupy mail and she will guide me through.
Oh I am so happy to have a very nice lady,
Who knows my eyesight is not that good;
So when she sees a little typo in my poem and poetry,
She does not hesitate to let me know so I can fix it up;
This kind of compassion is so special if you ask me.
These are my heroes:
Linda-Marie, The SweetHeart
Andrea Dietrich
Sandra Haight
_________________________
October 18, 2015
Verse
For the contest, Poetry Soup Heroes, sponsor, Catie Lindsay
Tenth Place
When the snout of lush abundance is full and flowing,
when all prey and creature-kind spill upon the verdant swards,
then it is that I worry night and day,
for the stoat, fox and hawk are at work,
they scythe in the whelm and nimiety, they hack and harrow.
The kits and chuckling’s are many, the light too bright;
for then the foragers forgoing fright, are palpable and open.
The long-eared nibblers, hairs on scattered rodents laid bare,
they scutter, skitter and twitch much in the open
greatly prone to be pounced upon;
their paltry pelts all unhidden, and being many,
and not running, they are huddled; yet not strong.
If this slew not ease, if the grabbers not falter,
if the singled-out dither, the glut not wither,
then the green snake will climb to where nestlings hutch -
they all so easily plucked and quickly snatched.
I worry for the wee brown birds; mottled shells still unhatched.
I fear a winnowing, withal a harsh hazard of gorge and sate.
I fret for the freshly delivered, the teeming,
the newly produced, all the bounding bounty
for those too easily found and so, arrived too late.
After an hour’s incessant rain
On this cloudless evening
With the face of the sky
Washed clean
Globules of water
Have speckled the oiled surface
Of leaves on arching trees
They glisten in the evening light
Reflecting kaleidoscopic colors
As I look on, they quiver,
Dither, wobble and flutter
In their effort to balance precariously,
Each drop flops down one by one
With a sad refrain
Flip… plop, flip …plop
Leaving ripples in the puddles below
In the deep hush of Nature
On this twilight evening
Their distinct tinkling
Falls as music to my ears!
Placed First
For Strand’s (1063) Poetry Contest
Placed First
Mis En Place'
(Everything In Its Place}
Arrange it all
Piece by piece
Step by step
Make your world fall in line
With the New Time.
Forget the Before;
Anticipate the After
There is no real moment aside from this.
Lay it all out
Day by day
One step follows another
One by one
Because there is no plan;
Moments march on
As you try to make yourself fill time constructively,
But you dither,
Because there's always tomorrow.
Day or night,
What does it matter?
You've oceans of time;
Drift through the dark depths
There's always tomorrow
Before you drown.
The invisible enemy
Holds us in its thrall
We hide from one another
We hide from ourselves
We face the endless days
Huddled in our huts,
Craving one another
Fearing one another
We shall of course come through this
Though who can say at what cost.
I hope in the end it will make us burn for connection,
To celebrate how unified we truly can be.
Let us learn from this the vast family we are,
Bound by blood and hope, refusing to submit,
As we so often do,
To the cold, indifferent judgement of Fate.
Grieve, yes grieve my Brethren,
For all the loss and all the pain.
Shatter the skies with your laments,
Make the gods shed bloody tears for us.
We will pass through this fire
Emerge purified;
Stronger yet.
This is Mankind.
We do not surrender.
Face the Truth, hold the loss
To your hearts,
Grieve and weep and let the sorrow
Burn into your bones - Yes!
But in the end,
Remember who you are:
Sapiens, masters of the world.
You will survive
You will prevail.
You will NOT submit to Anything.
My Brothers and Sisters,
Unite with me in common belief
That that which does not kill us
Makes us stronger.
Yes, this will slay many of our tribe,
Steep us deep in sorrow.
Embrace the pain of loss, show the gone-before
That we are stronger for our pain;
Show them we will fight to honor them.
We will not submit to this;
We will emerge the stronger.
When two people fall in love,
there's one thing that they long to do.
It's true for birds and bees and doves,
and equally for me and you.
The pleasantest of loving deeds,
it's fed by, and in turn it feeds,
the fondness it's the symbol of.
Your life is in its golden prime -
drink now, or let the chalice pass.
We're all in thrall to spiteful Time -
enjoy your beauty while it lasts.
Say yes to love. It's death to dither.
The rose, once blown, can only wither.
From this high point, touch the Sublime.
You know the thing I'd have you choose!
You understand my thrust precisely.
Who could refuse a lover who's
petitioning your trust so nicely?
Slough off old skin of guilt and sin -
you win this game by giving in!
Come play with me. You cannot lose.
An evanescent bouquet of skewed briars,
is how a tinsel laden tawdry essence wickedly unfolds ,
scuppered signpost to a fetid human compost,
faint light pendant on soul crushed quantum migrant,
who might chortle at vivid veil flimsy vacuum,
skirt recklessly around bogus symbols,
peer behind the squalid limp sodden hedge,
mock myopic moribund mist upon boundary busting dawn chimera,
sneer at synthetic spectrum elastic in its irritating tidal wave surfeit,
cerulean fabric‘s milky way escape plot,
in a perilous quest for that eternal tape loop mantra,
the synaptic heart of that vainglorious horizon,
self-knowledge under charcoal moon and silver cloud veneer,
or feral waste rapid fire contagion,
the indecisive day glow dither on the margins ,
of fly weight feeble frantic dash,
that velvet shadow treason daubed pettifog,
known as tangential wanton cobweb fester creed,
the mind a bloated ripple vortex numbing in its scope,
golden mirage but faux fur real concoction,
against the banal backdrop of complex-ridden superficial eddy,
from floral garland poseur stricken en train,
some vox pop indignation mere shrinking violet showcase waver,
the gleam-hued truth has this dastardly demonic derailment,
that I brush aside as spiteful oxalic sting repost,
that deceptive mint green forest of chameleon cant,
sly nuanced molten maple syrup hint,
from out of kilter tree pierce otherworld,
unseen yet bliss-edged virtual garden of firm conviction,
not just from isolated enigmatic individual script,
such as torrid turbulence or mindless scattered rim shot,
when conventions can be altered in exotic prose,
human zeitgeist has this far too often penchant,
for silkworm rapt effervescent double speak,
whilst plain unvarnished uplifting utterance,
resides within the deep crystal spring well,
of us torch aloft emerald earthling sages,
please augment the rock buttress stark phrase,
whose bluntness is a carrier pigeon of candor,
devoid of muted gray cloud blind waffle,
aromatic sprig to giant spasm of bold pluck,
quandary of human race at hearth,
frightened cliques, hidebound yes men who yen,
to swim the azure gulf of august freedom,
to the Eden where lucid tongues herald pristine witness.
where values at the centre of our being should blossom
Fall in love, jumping in Autumn.
Splash of hues, refusing wither.
Leaping off, cushioning bottom.
Littering leaves in a dither.
Splash of hues, refusing wither.
Monotone rainbows in clothing.
Litter of leaves in a dither.
Burnt orange, maple reds, gloating.
Monotone rainbows in clothing.
Shaken off, adding to pile of
Burnt orange, maple reds gloating.
Looking on - mother-trees proud of.
Shaken off, adding to pile of.
Growing up, moments of winging.
Looking on - mother-trees proud of
Sailing sons, daughters caught springing.
Growing up, moments of winging.
Leaping off, cushioning bottom.
Sailing sons, daughters caught springing.
Fall in love jumping in Autumn.
Parody of Andrew Marvell's "to his coy mistress"
We have no time to waste
Dear in Love let's make haste
I haven't time to praise your locks
For my boss at my back stalks
And for sheer platonic relation
Internet erotic sites I can't shun
And I have dates waiting in queue
If you dither
I will select any in lieu of you
My glabruous love should grow
like your painfully maintained eyebrow
And yonder before us lie
A chimney-tarnished sky
Before air pollution retards our respiration
Let our breath mingle each other in unison
While midnight bats are gnawing gnats and feasting free unseen,
a toddler’s fed from garbage sheds an elegant cuisine.
Along the trails in distant dales a lonesome wolverine
feigns appetite on fogy nights and days of crystalline.
The circus gongs excite the throngs in nighttime Never Land –
they swarm to see the destiny of Freaks at their command,
while Acrobats step pitapat across the shifting sands
and Lady Fat adores her cat and oozes charm unplanned.
The Dwarfs in suits, so small and cute when marching with the band,
ask crimson Clowns with painted frowns, to lend a mutant hand,
while Tamers’ whips with withered tips, throughout the winter land,
lure minds entranced through hoops enhanced with flames of fires fanned.
White Elephants in big-top tents sell black tusk contraband
to Sycophants in regiments who overflow the stands,
but No One sees anomalies, and No One understands.
At night’s demise, the dither dies, the lonely Crowd disbands,
down dead-end streets the Horde retreats, their threadbare rags in strands,
and Janes and Joes reweave their woes, for thoughts of change are banned.
Continued
Campanologist
forgets to let go the rope
His face rings a bell