Best Dribbles Poems
ebony edges
twilight blackens sketched shadows~
scarlet-stained sunset
dusk dribbles dewdrops
flower petals atrophied~
evening primrose, bloom
pinwheel galaxies
swirling stars orbit black holes~
bats shadow the night
dawn pierces night's heart
scarlet wounds bleed crimson light~
a hummingbird's hum
day resurrected
scurrying shadows scatter~
colors coalesce
A parrot sits on my shoulder.
Unlike those that squawk, mine tends to whine.
When she is in the mood,
she moans and moans and moans.
No Polly-Anna Parrot is this one!
My pain she keeps repeating,
and hearing of it hinders me from being
more completely sympathetic to the pain
of others in my life.
As she dribbles cracker crumbs of pessimissm
from her annoying and ugly noxious beak,
it’s so difficult to pluck her from my ear.
Alas! I’m hearing the sound of my own voice,
for ‘tis I - who taught her how to speak.
Jan. 20, 2019 for
Maureen McGreavy's Plucking the Poisonous Parrot Contest
Your lover’s drawing straws without you, better bid farewell;
he’d never time for rhyme or reason, so it’s just as well.
Slip out the curtained window quick, the future winks and calls,
ignoring paths of pagan gods, where faulty footsteps fall.
Identify faint flashbacks, cloaked and clustered in a heap
and sort out those you treasure most, you need or long to keep;
Forget about the epoch past, which wasn’t what you’d sought,
pursue instead remaining dreams before they come to naught.
Reflect no more on what it was he’d meant for you,
strike out ahead where something waits, has sent for you.
The graveyard night is haunted still, it hovers where you sleep
recalling souvenirs amassed, the ones that made you weep.
The poets poised in dungeon vaults, now growing old and bald,
retrace their palsied pleas in dust, like those that you once scrawled.
Except for runic proverbs carved on stone walls ill defined,
assumptions will not dog you that you dare to leave behind.
The fortune-tellers waiting at the moat for you
read tarot cards while setting sail a boat for you.
The road behind is empty now, the sky is painted black
so gather all the wisdom gained, no time for looking back.
Forego the prophets’ prophecies, so tempting to pursue -
although they might be asked advice, they seldom have a clue.
Reject the secrets they reveal, enveloped in their guile,
which be betrayed between the tombs in ruins of their smile.
They’re waiting with a fractured rule of thumb for you
while beating on a perforated drum for you.
A sand-glass dribbles distant dunes, the sun dial’s shadow’s late,
so now’s the time for slipping through the open swinging gate.
A joker wild defies the fools to read between the lines
in search of cryptic radiance the future world enshrines -
“the days ahead will wake again like waves before the dawn
when picking up the pieces left behind a passing pawn.”
A noble knight awaits to clear the board for you
when, soon, a cup of nectar wine is poured for you.
My body tenses.
The soft padding of footy pajamas
approach
tiny fingers grip my eyelid
lift it....
Bright eyes gaze into
the freshly opened eye.
A voice shouts....DA!!!
The other eye opens.
Yes I'm in here.
......And he knows it.
His PJ's had that
"potato in a pocket" hang.
I close my eyes...
reopen them...
he's still there...
he shouts again....DA!
Milk dribbles from his chin
as he struggles
to master the spoon
Cheerios dot his forehead
as he throttles a banana.
The "eye" sips coffee
tries not to laugh.
The dog laps up
his portion of sharing.
It was a good morning.. until
he pried my eye open
then....it became
.......A GREAT MORNING
John G. Lawless
2/15/2021
Anchored by its feet hangs the carcass
Butcher removes brisket and strings it
Chuck steak diced for stews and pies
Dark well matured silverside rests
Entrails give the dogs a royal feast
Flank minced for spaghetti bolognese
Gullet chopped into stock pot simmers
Hanging meat swings as the butcher works
Icy still from the blast chiller
Juicy steaks thickly cut are parcelled up
Kebabs skewered, placed on display
Loin of beef neatly lined up
Minced steak patties for burgers
Neck used in both stock pot and stew
Offal set aside for pate and pies
Perfectly roasted beef ready to carve
Quick flash fry of rib eye seals in juices
Rump not too trimmed dribbles on grill
Sirloin anointed by a king sizzling
Tongue gently braised in gravy or stock
Utensils casting shadows on the wall
Venison from red deer's makes tasty things
Wing rib rubbed with hot spices waits
Xhosa cattle graze in pastures green
Yellowed meats set aside for soup
Zibeline hides scrapped and cured, nailed up
8/27/2015
contest Any Poem written in August
RED-
Pillar boxes that stand open-mouthed
Waiting to be fed.
And plump ripe strawberries,
Dipped in sugar,
Smothered in cream.
Or just popped in your mouth
And squashed between your teeth
YELLOW-
Buttercups that shine under your chin
To give away your secrets.
And hot corn on the cob
That drips with butter
And smacks your lips.
PINK-
Candyfloss,like fluffy cotton wool
That glues to your fingers
And disappears in your mouth.
And gooey icing on the top
Of long sticky buns.
GREEN-
Grass that prickles your skin
When you run barefoot.
And unripe apples
Hanging from trees
That beg to be eaten
Till your tummy hurts!
ORANGE-
Fruit that juices your throat
And dribbles your chin.
And bonfire flames
Glowing and warm
That crackle and spit
And reach with poker fingers
If you get too near.
VIOLET-
Like the flowers, and the lilac
In blossom time.
And sweet smelling lavender
That crushes itself
On your hands
And reminds you of Grandma.
BLUE-
Sky on a clear sunny day
That dangles above your fingers
Just out of reach.
And the warm sea
That plunges you
Into its' playful waters
And wraps you up
In its' waves.
And then there are
Multi-coloured things,
Like ribbons,ballons and streamers.
Kites that play chase with the wind.
The wings of butterflies
And painted carnival faces.
And of course the rainbow
That appears bright and magical,
Soaring high above
Houses and tree tops
On to nowhere land,
Lighting up the sky
With its brilliance.
Then is gone,
Scattering itself
To be remembered
Among colour favourites.
Beneath a shroud in mystery
was built a monument sublime,
where flowed a river endlessly,
her flow kissed the periphery,
ignored the grasp of time.
So great the span of her intent
she circled mound and battlement,
where roses sprang in every glorious hue,
and other vibrant flowers showed their worth,
as ancient trees spired mightily in view,
and full proclaimed the grandeur of the earth.
Behold the caves where lovers kept their tryst,
close hidden where the mountain swooped and shaded,
well guarded by the shadows and the mist,
a devil's place where dissidents and traitors kissed
in heated passion, and their love degraded.
Within the gloom a roiling and a bursting,
a waterspout came thrusting, thunder blasting,
and spat huge molten rocks like tiny pebbles,
the torrent coursing down, not merely dribbles,
the raging maelstrom flinging high and over,
revealed beneath the streaming sacred river.
She ran through dale and covert full continuous,
a journey never ending, until she reached the sea.
And then was heard a cry, a call to arms,
that neither bliss nor solitude becalms.
Yet music from the edifice and caves
o'ercame the sound of warring and of strife,
reverberations and the crashing of the waves
a mighty symphony in tune with all of life.
the sun-bleached monument regaled in gold,
the savage caves, calamitous and cold.
A dream of perfect grace I once beheld,
a lady with a voice as clear as spring,
a vision of my destiny
she sang of sweet eternity,
such joyful notes didst bring!
Would that I might recover
the beauty of her song,
the passion of a secret lover,
I might labor hard and long
to recreate this sacrament,
its sunny climes, its frozen spa,
a two-edged sword its testament,
a blessing and a curse both spent,
to dwell within that twin entombment,
a two-tongued threat beneath Abora.
For whosoever breaks these grounds,
and recreates conflicting sounds,
has tasted direst dark and Shangri-la!
Rain slowly trickles
Dribbles from blue asphalt roof
Wets ink 'pon page
"Twas dry dull work written by
The old poet as tears did flow
For Jimbo
again …
here I am -
a glum ghost
a somber shadow
I have come to dream
to pledge duty, your gleam
to venerate your foreday liturgy
ah, and mend the mist - the magical mist
another mercurial morn creature such as we
ever cautiously coy in its dark, shifting purpose
with foggy fingers it creeps shore-ward
tickling the rocks and rills with vexing facility
its dew-dripping appendages grasp the bluff
and cloak it in a brume shawl
sea's briny breath
braided to a blanket
covering all in a supernal spell
as if we haunt some lofty realm
paused between stars and steeples
to dance for the dawn's enchantment
but I am here for longing's sake
to entomb my pallid pining
priceless little maudlin chunks of my life
that I must forever let loose
whimsical moments spent here, made precious by another
a sweet syrup called "her" that drips from my being
and dribbles its way to my visceralities
where now it turns rancid with nostalgia
poisoning my spirit
you ...
with your winking perpetuity
shall be the last witness to my remorse
you - my lonely, reticent, stolid beacon
shall be the final testament
to every tear let in her stead
to every hapless heartache rent for her
to every soul-wrenching dream torn from the night
and to every last hush of her name on the wind
I throw it all down now
to crash on these jagged cliffs with the morning wake
to end where it was first entrusted
with the shutter of your winking eye
and the first misty beams ... of a new day.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Lighthouse" Poetry Contest, Eve Roper, Judge & Sponsor.
Sleep;
He sleeps,
Peacefully
Dreamless and still
Rising chest, deep breaths
Stroking his curly hair
He does not stir but yawns, sighs
Mouth open, tongue loose, he dribbles
I smile to myself, how angelic
I lean down and touch his warm lips with mine
Beneath a shroud in mystery
was built a monument sublime,
where flowed a river endlessly,
her flow kissed the periphery,
ignored the grasp of time.
So great the span of her intent
she circled mound and battlement,
where roses sprang in every glorious hue,
and other vibrant flowers showed their worth,
as ancient trees spired mightily in view,
and full proclaimed the grandeur of the earth.
Behold the caves where lovers kept their tryst,
close hidden where the mountain swooped and shaded,
well guarded by the shadows and the mist,
a devil's place where dissidents and traitors kissed
in heated passion, and their love degraded.
Within the gloom a roiling and a bursting,
a waterspout came thrusting, thunder blasting,
and spat huge molten rocks like tiny pebbles,
the torrent coursing down, not merely dribbles,
the raging maelstrom flinging high and over,
revealed beneath the streaming sacred river.
She ran through dale and covert full continuous,
a journey never ending, until she reached the sea.
And then was heard a cry, a call to arms,
that neither bliss nor solitude becalms.
Yet music from the edifice and caves
o'ercame the sound of warring and of strife,
reverberations and the crashing of the waves
a mighty symphony in tune with all of life.
the sun-bleached monument regaled in gold,
the savage caves, calamitous and cold.
A dream of perfect grace I once beheld,
a lady with a voice as clear as spring,
a vision of my destiny
she sang of sweet eternity,
such joyful notes didst bring!
Would that I might recover
the beauty of her song,
the passion of a secret lover,
I might labor hard and long
to recreate this sacrament,
its sunny climes, its frozen spa,
a two-edged sword its testament,
a blessing and a curse both spent,
to dwell within that twin entombment,
a two-tongued threat beneath Abora.
For whosoever breaks these grounds,
and recreates conflicting sounds,
has tasted direst dark and Shangri-la!
A relay of moods dribbles on and on
when euphoric tunes kick in:
Jazz, R& B, slow funk, wild pop
igniting primal ecstasy, in the flesh...raw!
Live music leaves me breathless
as thuds of a drum, the intricate fondling
from saxophones blast these veins...
until intoxicated head convulses,
Pulse beat raised at 110, my torso
gyring in motions unknown—
the cortisol of anticipation surging
adrenaline doses gushing...just then,
Philip Bailey whams a falsetto,
higher than high in a climatic lift;
my whole body possessed without Reasons
on Fantasy’s electric stage—
Another grasp of dismembering reality lures
where smoky thirst begs for more notes;
an elevated zing which drugs my soul …
yet, nights ask for more live concerts.
4/17/2019
For Anthony Slausin: Your Amphetamine Contest
----------
Earth, Wind and Fire Live Performance
Manila, 2009
Lead Singer: Philip Bailey/ Songs: Reasons, Fantasy
Sample video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b1FN6X_86NY
Today is a drizzle day,
The softest showers fall,
A rain caress from the grey
clouds above does enthrall ~
Drench my heart, o gentle spray!
A brush of love from on high,
A sprinkling of raindrops,
This light mizzle makes me sigh,
as this trickle ne'er stops ~
Saturate my soul, dear sky!
A tender stroke of warmth moist
dribbles down with levin*,
Cool rains, my spirit they hoist,
Blissful beads on my skin ~
Immerse me in joy unvoiced!
*levin - lightning
On weary ground I walk and think
Of you; your shadow follows everywhere
I go and feckless as the saline tears
That flow, I’m hollow.
Memories, impressions thus ensue
A measured dose that slowly dribbles
Through; like intravenous drips that
Bring in pain, I see the poison coursing
Through my veins.
Regret’s a stinking feeling to endure
It leaves the heart there aching insecure
A pallid soul, laconic, dry and dead
And nothing to the past can ere be said.
On weary ground I walk and think of you!
THE GAME OF SOCCER!
Stadium overcrowded by
hooligans and fans
Cheering waving flags and
clapping their hands
Players on the field they’re
ready to start
There goes the whistle it pumps
up their hearts
Adding strength to the ball and
kicking it high
The ball travels overhead how
beautiful it can fly
Over center field and still it
goes strong
Pass received with ease and the
player runs long
There he goes for his
opponents goal
He dribbles through each player
he’s on a roll
He takes the shot and curves it
by
The keeper dives for it far and
high
The goalie misses it the balls in
the net
There’s a moment of silence
and no regrets
The winners jump for joy that
win was a must
Opponents heads tilt down low
they leave in disgust
A player’s life fulfilled is playing
world class
To be playing all year long on
the rich green grass
Play with heart, that’s the real
answer
Of how to play the true game of
soccer