Best Drudge Poems
Sinew torqued and bowed as he pressed the weight
Of drudge claimed goods to be stacked and stowed.
The lady claimed that his omnipresent proclivities
Would neither build strength of character nor stature.
Laugh, she did, as she knew the wolverine has left the den,
To build his muscle with more willing obstructions.
The starving dog follows the master who feeds him:
And she, the mistress, always leaves flesh on the bone
It might begin with the sweet songs of birds
when sunrise blooms its glow, seeming divine.
We view the month to see those written words;
“Spring now begins” confirms our current sign.
The resurrection from grim Winter sleep
will move full-swing while buds unveil to stir.
Soft colors of new willow greens will sweep-
blot Winter drudge while brighter views recur.
Fresh hope rebirths the life in every soul
when Springtime flowers crown the rolling fields.
While gushing brooks from melted snow unroll-
the feeling of new life within us yields.
This mystery of rebirth gifts our Spring;
gives promise in new life for everything!
Without you next to me as I sleep, it’s like carbon monoxide in my lungs. I awake rotten and malnourished. Experiencing life as a ghost, everything is gray. Everything in ashes. Frail to the touch. Sickness resides in the majesty’s kingdom, yet I press on. Knowing you’re somewhere I must venture. I’ll find you this disfigurement of a waking life. My personal holocaust. The other side of the barbwire leads to you and I’ll rip myself limbless to bleed out into your soil. If only for a moment we’re together, than a moment shall be an eternity. My scared flesh tells tales of dreams foreseen. Golden rays of amber claim my vision, and I’ll never lose hope as I break my fists upon the stone walls of my oppression. With you in my heart I’ll survive the winter drudge. Towards the summer within your arms. Our love is timeless. Our love is God’s whispers.
The whole of my life is rather mundane, endured only until those few minutes gained; Yes, granted reprieve from this daily drudge, and allowed for the nonce, even if begrudged, to hold a feather,very sharp, to write with the tip. Slow and steady like a man taking sips…from the water of life after a long weary trip.
When all the gears are lubricated, operating efficiently, and the needs of the world weigh on someone else, the mechanism of creativity connects with the crenelated cog of self.
Dominoesk works cause my hand to haltingly write. Heart to mind, mind to body, body to hand, hand to quill…okay, so it's a keyboard, alright.
Emotion, like sand after a beach trip, pours forth from places usually dark, not seen, unlit.
Using that water of life and the sands of emotion, I build my castle with words and notions.
Intricate battlements, portcullis, bailey , and arrow loops. Protection from arrows of interruption, darts of responsibility, and soldiers of the Soup.
Until, Inevitably the drawbridge is breached, the end of my time finally reached.
Slowly I surrender my feather sword, in this messy, mixed metaphorical world.
The oven timer beeps and the phone rings, bringing me back to my life of mundane things.
Don't let your dreams be drowned out by reality.
If your bound up with daily drudge confound real life, set your dreams free.
Get off life's merry go round, say no to the corporate pound break free.
Dreams are for living confound the non believers be gutsy.
Don't let the confines of others dreams constrict yours.
Set the headlines don't be sidelined, freedom calls
have the confidence to cha cha in the rain without a care
and follow your dreams to there conclusion, freedom.
The beauty to dream is your gift to yourself.
so get dressed up to the nines in your finery and break free.
and please just have the one dance for me who's stuck in corporate slavery.
Be a diva, a queen, the Freddie mercury of poetry, I want you to break free .
comp entry 09052016
Gray shrouds cover my way
sets the tone for the day.
Our silent sun sends
rays running round corners
slowly beams burn off -
melting morning misty mind.
As I tread these stone slabs
rapt in wonder of this awe,
great stone bones in it all.
Metropolis makes stirring sounds
anxiously awakens around me.
Rails screech like prehistoric birds,
wind whistles through tunnels twirling,
chatter and honks and hums.
Hear humanities' street symphony.
Parkways sever city canyons.
I cross white striped asphalt rivers,
pass primal Ponderosa stone spires.
Wary walls of glassy eyes glare at me.
Watch my droll daily drudge passively
through towering hollow statues.
I arrive to hug my office door,
seeking some soulful signal.
This inner city, my sentimental friend:
now I'm fearful this soon will end.
Put my face flush on its stone skin,
felt a mounting tear in my eye,
trickled out down between,
turned my head to kiss its skin.
Felt raspy, tasted of grit.
Like kissing a corpse.
Then pulled back and looked up
its everstill edifice to the sky.
Poses the query who am I?
And there I stood a while and thought.
How can we be one?
How can it be me?
Color Pencil illustration G. Gaul
Free Verse Philosophical look at inanimate
stone city structures and the
universal concept of oneness.
11/17/2019
Morning shadows hang empty silence outside my window
Witnessing to mistakes beyond the curtain
While sleepless nights drudge deeper holes in my heart
Your eyes gaze in my direction searching for an answer
Our empty love seeps through the cracks of my searching heart
As I'm waist deep in fear caused by my own selfish mistakes
Blindly letting go to grasp the empty air, I find myself drowning in another love
Boldly suffocating my heart to release secret desires within myself
As we interlock the beautiful connection within our souls
The unblemished sky puts me to rest in the arms of peace
Written: September 29, 2023
____________________________________________________________
Walking through the corridors of my dream,
Down the boulevard of anguish, it seems,
Breathing in the knell of an unreadable sky,
Haunt Harbinger hypostatization, holding high
Dimly lit guests, snow troopers, and a piano key
Playing a dismal dirge, an internal funeral melody.
Insightful memories on the dark side warn us
Anger and passion, the cusp of nuclear dourness
Letters written in sepia script, a child's scare
In this circumstance, an illustration of despair
A startled, hoary invoice manifests in the mail.
Chaste in Gulag, cognizant of the time roll on stale
Shattering and breaking through the glass box.
The axe grooves on raw wood and blocks.
A misheard song, carefully shattering a splash.
The spear is reflected in the water by a slash.
Hope mirrors shake fate spears to consume.
A rare bedazzlement, a reflection of optimism.
Swords of inertia rattle, eager for consumerism.
But I drudge, unfazed, in this dream, I resume
Where the power of a single act of kindness
Can shatter darkness and bestow brightness.
I walk on, carrying the weight of the past.
But never forget that it won't last.
In this dream, I find solace and peace.
In the midst of chaos, pain, and cease
The blue sky is melting into green.
A symbol of hope, of a raw scene.
Written: December 25, 2023 For Silent One Contest
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Plum blooms coated the lawn floor,
Swept from trees by wind abhor
Stars ne'er root me much concern
I'm quite taut with Earth discern
Stars, as blooms, are grand to glance
That display crowns a drudge stance
A sprout holds a wealth insight
I deem beat to view fruits sight.
Going to America
“One’s country is the country where one fares best.”
Greek Proverb
It was from there to here
Nowhere near, my dear
And, from here to there
It would appear
We could never quite clear.
So to stay back there was a life of drudge and fear
And to move out was to cut the chord so dear.
We dream a trip from there to here,
It is far, nowhere near, we fly to another sphere
But we are determined to go on, to persevere
We overcome all obstacles and trounce fear.
But, on occasion, we forget and yearn for the old home
We drift into forbidden territory
The land we left to search and wonder
Gets hold of our heart, the tears flow, we regret and worry.
Stay back with a steady job year after year
Or move out and get lost, or labor up in towers, fields or ships,
Work in mines or machines that press and grind or crush and bind
Get lost in books or prayers and see the Truth come near
Earning respect, wisdom, friends, some cash and cheer.
No earthly power could commandeer the heart
That seeks and strives and then wipes that diamond tear.
So, we are here, my dear – we’ll never disappear
We made a choice and we’ll keep it to the capstone year.
Jonquils
On days when there are no poems to be found
When I drudge the depths of the murk
I think of Jonquils.
I get stuck on those pesky flowers
And the mental image of tiny yellow and white daffodils.
I ask myself for a poem but
From somewhere else
The whisper comes:
Jonquils.
Poems must be about Jonquils.
You can’t have a poem without Jonquils.
I need to write about
speak about
sing about
write some more about
Jonquils.
So, as a poet who has learned from other poets, I research.
Narcissus jonquilla:
A native of Spain and Portugal.
Grows in open spaces and forests and at the edges of lawns
Like little poems
that push their way up through the late spring snow
Vast white sheets spread for acres
On my desk top.
I stare at them and wait for a poem to happen.
From the corner of a page
A yellow tipped bud appears—
Jonquils.
And nothing else.
as it can b
here’s it-cursed
tossed,crossed,
lost-indentation
a winter numberer,may be
“evacc-ed ejectt inject deject-ed subjects - ”as you like it,man
“missed Ann entire year this year “
& ,repeat man
& ,re-did
off the racks,tip toes may-b
born born - born born to b
from there to the--comatose
“ the probabilities ”,man
&then comes-
comes-&then goes
&comes-&comes-
the shenanigans,, man
easy come easy go ,,go
she ,howlssays
the finale, now!
comes-
comes-comes-&comes-
rendezvous,, the definationn
inept incept product uncutt n undone
it don’t
it
bequeathes,,,,
In what is
in between jac and jill
“jesus, man”
here, a tar pit the yellowed trees all that eyes see cherry blossom through
&through and through and through and through and through
if it soothes-----reanimations
so many many ages ago
“probabilities man probabilities”
that’s about itt,, it seems
“the drudge magenta!,
as i knoww itt”
well for once “ so pretty ” shesays -cohorts
justt a dayy more we are closer
the white linens the blue coats the finest
frivolities all that is pristine
a well laid dining table
a desk to write read eat
a tree outside
the never ending vanity fair
“that the magic will live never will die
cause it’s automatic for people”says-Scot
“ patterns emerge as my prime
whiter s,man”----tells,Joe
a cup of tea-- tells Jon
“as much as you will like to mingle/&dangle-&mingle /
double dribble/triple./Onegin //all the wriggling the implausible imposing
,, nibble ,,all the book keeping
“the classic anecdote” iff i mayy ...
we are all only supercilious there’s more here to come”----Jim,, retorts tells
“to which i may”,tells jill
We are living in the middle, you and I,
between butterfly beginnings - ethereal endings.
Despite Natural Law, I'm persuaded to pause;
if possible, dear, let chrysalis continue ...
Timothy Levi Hicks
Living in the Middle
Rules of life restrict us from infancy.
If instincts are true we thrive, each new lesson,
a cynosural guide to success, an urge to forget
those practices made to thwart happiness.
Spare spending habits, avoiding the seven deadly sins,
passages, and reaching for that metaphoric sky
Until, true love, that mystic carriage to what may be;
the chrysalis that cradles heightened mystery.
The inevitable enduring of drudge before we fly.
We are living in the middle, you and I.
There is much we live, reliant upon chance happenings.
What if we had never met? If our paths had never
intersected or, if they did, we failed to connect.
Missed the perfect moment when the sky was right
to usher in romance, the laws of allurement
that shaped 'Plaisir d'amor' in magical renderings.
The ardent awareness of simpler things;
Brilliant colors, ambrosial kisses and heavenly perfumes.
The harmony of mutual understandings
between butterfly beginnings-ethereal endings.
The eager phase of dreams, of promises made,
getting used to things- some expected, some not.
then the arduous art of forgiving.
Our consent to cherish common objectives.
Was it happenstance our love succeeded - or was it
Because we overlooked each other's flaws-
What we expected in the moment?
Two souls astounded to be of the same accord;
that a chance encounter could be the cause.
Despite Natural Law, I'm persuaded to pause;
Too quickly the paragraphs of time we rèad.
Hand in hand we strolled the pages of our years,
standing fast against misfortunes we emerged,
shaped by caring and forbearing hearts.
Refusing to imagine life devoid of one another,
fighting new adversity with every sinew.
Nothing earthly, or in heaven, can measure
this small eternity we have made ourselves.
No matter how circumstance may try to spin you,
if possible, dear, let chrysalis continue ...
Suzanne Delaney
A Glosa
HOPE
When you look deep within your mind or your soul,
where is your HOPE and what does it look like?
How deep is the ravine that carry the waters of wisdom
and the relentless desire to be fulfilled?
Do you wander in a forest of self determination
Knowing you either succeed or fail?
What is to be ; is to be, but by your design.
For only disappointment will be your gain
And you will move on
To desire one more thing
What lack of soul lies deadened by man's mind?
Such limits placed on oneself, mere acceptance.
Overtaken by the drudge of earthly pleasure and sustenance.
Is it hope for fame or fortune; bread and water?
Or is HOPE alive within your soul?
The promise that all that is given will serve to your goal.
The desires of the soulheart, the ravine so deep, so fragile, yet; relentless.
Yearning for a Love so great, as to almost deny the thought.
Fear if you have not found it! Are you lost in the muck?
It is there for the taking. You do not need luck.
Trust in the future, Love you will find.
Patience my soulheart, HOPE has been mine.
The cash and carry of love
Which summer doth requisite
When will thou birth me a dove?
Soon autumn will bid for hunt- 5
To gratify winter’s drudge
Oh! Far is the sight of spring
None can pacify better
For season flies without wings
And quick does it charm scald beauty
Of whose time shall be pleaded? 10
As vaguely summer doth leave
Crow beckons with a caw
The womb that is long barren
Whom for eon is not loved
And in earth’s hate it joy is lost 15
Quick drains life off it victim