Best Dreg Poems
. . . I am lost in a sea of memories
that scar the roadmap to my soul
and my words- are the highway to my pain
as I follow a labyrinth of passages and corridors
curved and contrived-
and here, I am a child praying
oh, my withered dreams, my hopes, my aspirations
why do I dreg up my past sorrows
that come drifting like a dark death melody . . .
my grief comes unbidden to stain my years
and my tears hang from dripping branches in a
. . . graveyard where tombs stand in rows and rows
where grass grows greener
and happy hummingbirds hover in heavenly harmony
and red roses decay- and the wind is a violin . . . echoing
and blood seeps from the forever dagger in my heart
barefoot, ragged, hair tangled- I am a little girl again playing
and again lost in the sad wail of violin and wind
. . . life stretches before me like a long road
and I am sick of all this sorrow- and rose decay
I want days as clear as sparkling wine
to live a life full of serenity
with days brilliant blue and nights of sparkling stars
instead of this vast empty place my thoughts wander . . .
oh, bitter and cruel is this life at times- yet a fire burns
within me . . .
______________________
July 8, 2021 - Repost/Edit
Poetry/Free Verse/within me
Copyright Protected, ID 07-1369-715-08
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Submitted to the Standard contest, A Brian Strand July 8
sponsor, Brian Strand, Judged 07/08/2021
First Place
Categories:
dreg, sorrow,
Form:
Free verse
. . . I am lost in a sea of memories
that scar the roadmap of my bleeding soul;
my words- the highway to my deep pain.
I follow a labyrinth of passages and corridors
curved and contrived- I am a child praying.
Oh, my withered dreams, my hopes, my aspirations!
Why do I dreg up my past sorrows
that come drifting like a dark death melody . . .
my grief comes unbidden to stain my years-
my tears hang from dripping branches in a
. . . graveyard where tombs stand in rows and rows.
Oh- grass grows greener in a graveyard,
and the happy hummingbirds hover in heavenly harmony
and red roses decay- the wind a violin . . .
(Blood seeps from the dagger in my heart!)
Barefoot, ragged, hair tangled- I am a girl
lost in the sad wail of violin winds;
. . . life stretches before me like a long road.
I am sick of all the sorrow- decay,
I want days as clear as sparkling wine,
to live a life of peace and serenity;
days brilliant blue and nights full of stars,
picture perfect, instead of this vast empty place . . .
Oh, bitter this life- yet a fire burns
inside of me and soon it will explode . . .
_________________________________
February 13, 2017
Poetry/Free Verse/Oh, My Withered Dreams
Copyright Protected, ID 02- 875-889-13
All Rights Reserved, 2017, Constance La France
Submitted to the Standard contest, Best Free Verse This Year,
sponsor, John Hamilton, Judged 2017
Second Place
________________________________________
For the contest, Any Free Verse 200 Words or Less
Sponsor, Laura Loo Judged
First Place
Categories:
dreg, dark,
Form:
Free verse
A New poetry form invented by Aggie in Malaysia. She named it Chinky - My first try, and not a very good one. My gerund at the beginning is incorrect.
Regret is prowess burned in rubbish dump,
on life’s immense archive of dreg debris.
Who would desire to scavenge refuse, pump
and bring again for everyone to see?
Why waste my treasured time to nurse regret?
Why waste my treasured time to nurse regret?
For future days, my one and only plea
that yesterday’s charade shall pose no threat,
and coming days shall count as victory.
Regret is prowess burned in rubbish dump.
Categories:
dreg, confidence, courage, introspection,
Form:
Rhyme
Through tinted glass, I see cars have lined up outside, like a java-thirsty snake who waits to strike at the employee working the drive-through window.
I take a last dreg of coffee, then vacate the table for another caffeine addict to indulge in some dark-roast creation, while reaching into my purse for keys. Someone touches my shoulder and I turn.
Out of aromatic filled haze, her soft voice speaks into my ear, using my maiden name, which seems foreign to my own ears. It comes as a riddle, with question mark at the end, as if it were floating inside a bubble.
dust motes mingle with
the steam of French roast coffee....
someone drops a spoon
She slips into the empty place across from me, and I see familiar, but strikingly older, hazelnut eyes. They hold something unsettling, sad and seem peppered with weight. But she shows me a wan smile buried in a sea of nerves. She was an old friend, a good chum. How long has it been?
Just as I am about suggest a plan, a date to meet for lunch, she's running late, and must hurry, and has started closing the gate again.
espresso ripples
with element of surprise ....
an old acquaintance
We walk out together, ... I open the door for her, while she carries two capped coffees, and starts to head across the lot. We say a quick goodbye, I take care not to spill her load, as I gently hug her goodbye. She walks away in a rush, climbing into faded red truck. An unsmiling tight-lipped man , reaches over to the inside latch to open the door, that seems to be missing a handle on the outside. I hear a harsh, husky voice ask "What took so long?",.. loud enough that a few people glance their way. She smiles weakly, and doesn't look back to say goodbye.
under old tires
leaves are crushed into small bits...
a whirlwind of dust
my cell phone vibrates
someone misses me from home ....
sun breaks through the clouds
_________________
11/2/15 For Contest: Creative Haibuns
Sponsor Charlotte Jade Puddifoot
Categories:
dreg, friendship, people, sad,
Form:
Haibun
Realm of humankind wheedled in reset,
Homeland beray, lull to beset,
Scrawling the parchment to a keyset,
Xenophobia in callousness,
Dearth to darn the clout concord.
Orness synergy alliance the terrene.
Berth errand the rassle office,
Commissions detach the hassle orifice...
Pensile the ensile spirits,
Circumscissile recoiled resiliency,
Nuanced tensile expansionism...
Normalise a new normal,
Order the prime heart to bloom,
Taper our united dreg to blossom...
Blight in frights,
Dight the twinight against any affright,
Infinity within.
Categories:
dreg, community, creation, earth, environment,
Form:
Free verse
Mother taught me to not kill,
Her holy book forbids it.
Written somewhere in its many pages is
"Killing is the wickedest biblical sin."
My mind holds me prisoner,
A self-judged convict-
For I have murdered men,
Buried them in the catacombs of hatred.
I have read about Faith.
How it opened shut-up doors of the eyes of men.
Tell me I am wrong
for mixing clay and spittle spiced with spite,
That in my eyes have fallen the worthiest of men,
Even the most virtuous women have been undressed.
Father told me "silence is virtue,
Quietude is key."
What I carry- the words I bear
Is a river rushing to empty itself into the ocean.
Tell me I am wrong
For choosing to live expressive.
"The silent man is like one dead with his mouth open,
A lot to say, nothing said."
How sad!
They say our color defines silence,
We are blessed with the curse.
From time immemorial we have carried the course
over with every soul we laid to rest.
With fettered legs from Badagry
we have mourned silently to Cane farms in Brazil,
Bound men in Freetown,
We harbour promises of a free world
when we have not even a free town.
Caretakers of our own lands.
From Egyptian slavery we walk into the captivity of the Promised Land
powerful but powerless
like bottled genies.
Tell me I am wrong for
Refusing to bargain my voice
Or trade my lips for another tongue.
Father told me that War is a word
we must never say,
Our fathers before him buried it deep under lashes,
Sang it away in sugar cane farms.
He said
" Silence is peace, we must carry on the tradition."
The head must lay itself for the tail
Like wine must be downed 'fore the dreg
But freedom is a language, voice is a tongue.
We have waited so long with poise
in the eerie dungeons of quietude for noise
......
......
.......
........
Categories:
dreg, africa, corruption, , memorial,
Form:
Free verse
Dancing to Sisqo
like a dad at a disco
that ain’t the diss though
you’re a straight up pissed ho
handbag on the dance floor
where your sandbag **** fall
straps see you trip fool
your ugly face hit sore
wake up toothless
seeking a toothbrush
though it be useless
what a flipping doofus
go home harbour a criminal
brain damage acts horrible
talking his world of bull
so thick you believe the tool,
keep mans away and hidden
they’re out to get rid of him
swears on his kid again
but the kid don’t remember him,
causes trouble is he worth it
when all say he deserves it
pause, think, is he nervous?
6 foot under the surface,
when you’re just a pissed ho
out to dance at a disco
now granting a wish so
this dreg ain’t a missed bro.
Categories:
dreg, appreciation, freedom, rap, rude,
Form:
Rhyme
I see him on days
As I walk from school
Weighted with books + facts + insecurities
Feet moving to the rhythms in my head
A thousand songs
Illustrating the world in slabs of impressionist paint
And then he is there
Jerky movements invading my mind
Shouted expletives aimed not at the crowd
That shies from this desperate drunk
But at unknown enemies
That he fells with a frantic blow
He topples
Rises
Falls again
The sane wrinkle their noses
And he is gone
Just another madman
Another drunk
Another dreg
Scum, trash, refuse
Suffocating society
Nothing lingers but the stench of his fear
Not alcohol
Nor cloying smoke that haunts my soul
Just whispered warnings to secret friends
Move along
Move along
Scream a thousand songs
There is nothing left to see
Categories:
dreg, sympathy,
Form:
Free verse
Sitting here thinking,
while I’m holding my own,
I’m wondering how so many big heads
fit into a pontifical cone?
Riding in a chair of gold leaf,
always raised way above the rest
No wonder these elevated mortals
start feeling they’re better than the best.
Oh omniscient, watch out for that nearby and
lowly dreg with a humbling stick.
He’ll let the air out of your head you oblivious,
magnificent but self-made schtick!
Categories:
dreg, life, parody, social
Form:
Rhyme
Do Have Hillary Doll
Bernie has been in Congress many years
And can't find him because he disappears
If memory serves me right when I look back
How can clumsy chicken get lost in a haystack?
Bible again I recently over and over read
There they say it was eye of needle instead
And of course as usual what we all dreaded
Bernie any needles he has never threaded.
Then we did have to wipe our tears dry
He never can cross a t nor does dot an I
Still has lanky head lost in the deep sand
Has typewriter and writes things shorthand.
To our society is swiftly becoming a dreg
And if it hadn't been for good old Gregg
We would still be laughing quite a load
He mixed up shorthand with Morse Code.
Instead of Bernie being an upper fixer
His mind now has become a big mixer
So instead of him sealing all of our door
Have a Hillary doll assigned to each room.
Ho ho ho, Jim Horn
Categories:
dreg, humorous,
Form:
Couplet
Destiny about to catch up,
Time clemently limited,
Kisses of power flowing outside a cup,
Feelings of Darling perforated,
Give me a catapult to smash the ancient serpent,
Noah's ark wasn't his figment,
Just a tree in the garden,
Disobedience breeding death,
That's when the heart is hardened,
Painfully subjected to dreg,
Church and the lamb,
Fenced by Agape love,
Bride and Bridegroom still holding up.
The friendship goes calm.
Categories:
dreg, allah,
Form:
Rhyme
Jo King loved frothy tankards of beer
Which she drank every day of the year
Interred in a keg
She swallowed each dreg
So her tombstone reads, "Wish you were here!"
Categories:
dreg, culture, drink, grave, humor,
Form:
Limerick
EMERALD LAKE
I believe you want to wade in clear blue water,
But the Yukon presents a treetop view,
Of a lovely lake, emerald son, not daughter.
I was a traveler from the East Coast, one of few,
Who freely strode a horse around this paradise -
A two hour jaunt with my grinning spouse.
And if i could do it again, i’d pay a greater price,
Fly across this pioneer’s land, leave my sturdy house.
Are their colorful fish hibernating from the Yukon’s cold,
or dull - like pike or pink salmon? What does one beg
in this intense and bold, blue and green lake of gold?
I’d rather prance my high horse then search its dreg.
Lovely sounds of nature, broken by growls of grizzly bears.
Even the cliff’s crag, that shares its features - I am amused.
Yukon spirit with pure mountain air lifts away personal cares.
All of this paradise, sadly left, yet - into Alaska, we cruised.
5/16/2017
Brenda Chiri’s Mountaintop Lake Contest
Categories:
dreg, nature, travel,
Form:
Rhyme
Maybe i should become a toad,
And lurk in the british embassy.
Among the chairs and heart-broken files,
Sitting on millions of deflowered flies.
Then when they're boarding the plane
Will i hop and hop towards them.
And as they often do to me
Will they ignore and erect their attention.
And then will i climb the stairs,
And saunter till i get up there.
And beneath one of their shoes
will i shelter. That my safety can
in Joyful dreg abound. Then as
The plane takes off,will i be
elated,to behold Washington.
But what if he steps on me?
What if...? What will i do?
If i am a Jelly-Fish,
Glowing in pride beneath the sea.
And my existence is special,
To tamkalash and all disgusting folks?
Then will i swim from Nigeria,
To different parts of the world.
And as the dawn dawn will i
transform,when Washington is
Wrought in my sight.
But what if a wanderer wanders
to my path,coupled with his prey holder,
To withheld breath from me?
What if he catches me in his net?
What if...? What will i do?
Oh i know! I'll bid my worms.
Till i become an eagle.
And i'll soar and soar from
coast to coast,ridges to ridges,
Hills to hills,mountains to
mountains,valleys to valleys,
stream to stream and after
the long and streneous adventure.
Will i be elated by glittering roads,
flowered streets,virgin cars,
pleasant houses,gorgeous damsels,
diligent Juveniles,rigid electricity.
Boasting companies- Washington's regalias.
Then will i mount on a fig tree,
And transform to the real me.
And measure the beauty of the land,
With my heart,eyes and hands.
But what if as i soar in pride
My rival denies me of my stand?
What if her air blows pass me
And press breath out of my heathen draws?
Or if a egg-bellied littlun,
Fed with curry goats points his arrow
To make of me a fun?
What if he aim at me?
What if he aimed right?-
Heaven forbid!,stop thinking that way.
But what if?
What if....? What will i do?
But of onething i'm i sure,
And to my moistured heart is it pure.
That before the death of this year,
Loose the knot,i'll be there!
17:26:08:20:43
Categories:
dreg, allegory,
Form:
Lyric
With him was a jar of blessing,
Assembled before him were different maiden for their own portion.
Nigeria: A dark maiden went forward,
And on she he poured half of the dreg:
Crude oil, Cocoa, rubber, timber,
limestone, gold, silver, diamond,
ore, Iron, Coal and numerous others.
Then America: A long-nosed colleen agitated:
'Tuteur, to Nigeria have you've poured half of the dreg.
Japan: 'It is but few to us is left'.
Britain: 'Should we by power strife on the remains? '
Asia: '154 countries, to have a drip of the remaining ointment?
And then he said to the maidens:
The wind blown retired to listen.
'I'll pour on you remains but little,
Go get the little used.
And of the dark maiden who's given so many a virtue,
Let's see, what she'll use them to do'.
And then he vacate the meeting.
And now he's still looking.
Nigeria, what have you used them to do?
18: 01: 26: 19: 43
Categories:
dreg, africa,
Form:
Narrative