Best Embroiled Poems
We’re different you and me
…We’re obsessed…
no more or less
Our minds embroiled
With words that boil
Not at ease at all unless…
We’re writing down
Each word or sound
That grabs our needy mind
Our brains twirl
in a greedy swirl
Til that perfect phrase
We find…
It’s a torment
It’s a torture
It’s a State of stress ecstatic
It’s idiopathic…
psychopathic
It’s idiosyncratic
But it’s what we are…
It’s who we are…
And we’re different you and me
We’re simple poets
Moved by destiny…
Possessed no more or less
And it’s what we have to be because
…We’re obsessed!!…
Speak to me in words I understand.
Don’t let pompous attitude embroiled
With your intellectual narcissism
Cause you to judge my words with disdain
Because I write with veracity and simplicity.
Humility has such rich virtue,
And when all material matter
Is spent, is what will be remembered.
There is such evidence left by
Humble poets in their timeless poetry.
You’re feeling so uncomfortably
like a lobster lately,
embroiled in hot controversy
Heated debates swirling all around you,
as your deep-fried life
jumps from the frying pan to the boiling pot
Wiping the sweat off your brow,
standing before the microphones
and blazing bright lights burning hot
You feel like
you’re in a
Twilight Red Lobster Zone
You’re catching a lot of heat, catching a lot
Whew! Brother, it’s gotten really hot
You’re so embroiled ...
feels like you being boiled
Boiled alive,
living the lobster life
Scandal and blooper viral feed
has you in a steamy situation
Court cases ... mounting legal fees
Your green onions
are getting a chop-chop
caramelized sensation
Indecent public exposure, tabloid indiscretions ...
Off-the-cuff sound bytes played on a constant loop
Political incorrectness, multiple divorce messes ...
Plus anger management is your new therapy group
You got a slew of problems like a gumbo stew,
so dump your crustacean career in the roiling pot
You’re catching a lot of heat, catching a lot
Whew! Brother, it’s gotten so fiery hot
You’re so embroiled ...
feels like you being boiled
Boiled alive,
living the lobster life
Being served on a buffet platter is so undignified
They`re heart`s like an egg forever hardboiled,
friends that betrayed, dreams that were foiled.
Protecting it`s shell and those whom were loyal,
toys of their youth, their health, all now spoiled spoiled.
They`re heart`s like an egg forever hardboiled.
Decisions, regrets, a life of turmoil,
choices, bad bets, and days of hard toil,
they fall to their beds, body in coil.
They`re heart`s like an egg, forever hardboiled.
Doing their best only turning up roiled.
Controversial at best, always embroiled,
and they no longer fear, being planted in soil.
rough with beauty
an acquired taste
sexy with squiggles
But it’s a tree!
Yes and has history and character
holding secrets of the forest
Or is it a rock?
petrified now? Possibly later
Now very much alive
Secrets embroiled
in a magic forest like way
sensuously mysterious
Political leaders globally surmise our economic stability.
Their mind desires maximization of their capabilities.
They seek power that is not to be.
Do they enmesh via history?
Does it matter what occurrences have already manifested?
These are the questions that are answered via their dogmatic presence.
Radically, they decide in an environment of arrest.
These dedicated bodies should care.
Religious figures throughout the universe suggest that humanity must get involve.
That they need to know life for what it is.
That God design this planet as a living will.
Through their mind-sets, they supposition humankind as only life formed.
Does it matter when new life is born?
Do they know the mixing bowl of faith is how mankind develops hate?
This implicates what is embroiled.
The love of thou fellow man, woman, and child will devout all.
For there is no man or woman above what is right.
For God gave us life to live precise.
That is to wrong that precarious time.
That is when right supersedes within the mind.
If it does not, all humanity is lost.
Then there is no more cold war.
R ise above
I niquity to
B e
S ave!
______________________________________|
Scribe August 12, 2015!
To Carol’s pumpkin patch I did go
With my little red wagon behind in tow
A fifty pound one I would use for show
Through teeth and eyes an eerie light would glow
To my surprise as I did a double take
First impressions were thoughts that they were fake
“White pumpkins!” I felt to see if I were awake
“White pumpkins!” Oh give me a break
Acidity in her soil Carol said of her spoil
Of such the flush of pumpkins were soiled
Funny feeling I had of maybe getting oiled
Pumpkins bleached white as though they had been boiled
Spoiled, soiled and oiled and maybe even broiled
By a promise, of free pumpkin, I am so embroiled
A sucker for free stuff, so rub me also with palm oil
It is Halloween, so I must assume this spoil
A golden pumpkin delight is white of spite
In acidity soil, echoes my usual plight,
something doesn’t seem well for day is not night
Though with my pumpkin white, I split the site
In honor of Carol Brown
And Contest
'Twas the day after Christmas and all was not well.
Even the resident mouse dare not stray far from its cell!
The family was snowbound due gale winds and snows.
Each tread lightly to avoid stepping on sensitive toes!
Though Christmas had been rather calm and serene,
The day after, presented a far different scene!
Creatures were stirring - Rusty the dog and Simba the cat.
Both were embroiled again in a long-simmering spat!
From the family room a screaming clamor arose,
Awakening Pa from his afternoon doze!
Seems that the kids could not readily agree,
On what to watch on their new high definitiion TV!
Pa groused about the usual socks and tie he received.
Ma got more potholders and was somewhat aggrieved.
The kids wanted to swap their gifts at the mall.
Pa muttered, "How am I to pay for it all?"
The expensive tree shed its needles - 'twas nearly bare.
Ma proclaimed that leftover turkey would be their fare.
At eventide they settled down for their long winters' naps,
Dreaming of a better outcome for next Christmas - perhaps!
I just wanna say
Don't have to be this way
Don't care what people say
Don't have to be this way
We can all have a better day
Where the children learn to play
Listen to the words of wisdom
And perfect the hell-bent system
That pits brothers against brothers
And sisters against sisters too
The Arab and the Jew
The Caucasians, the Polynesians
And the Chinese too
Remember the African,
The West Indian and Brazilian too
Its me and you
Why is the world bent
On the future and not the present
While we focus on the unseen
Lets focus on the pastures, make them green
Lets focus on the air, just keep it clean
Its a problem when we are not in tandem
You pulling here, me pulling there
Embroiled in conflict
Polluting the atmosphere
And today I write a story
Wishing for kind deeds and glory
To unite the globe with peace and love
Sparing the lamb, freeing the dove
Start a new dawn , free from scorn
Welcoming humanity ,
To a bright and sunny morn
These are the hopes I have
And within me I am glad
That my notes may inspire
Breathing hope with a burning desire
To set our hearts free, You and me
To awaken the blind, let them see
That's all it takes, to relieve the misery
Of a human heartache, pangs of pain
From which there are only losses
Nothing to gain.
So lets rekindle the flame
Let love take over again
And start a sweet refrain
Let Humanity reign.
Canis Lupus the Dufus
He did battle with three little hams
was embroiled in the Riding Hood scams
now slower of gait
he simply must wait
for a visit from Mary’s sweet lambs
John G. Lawless
3/30/2015
Not submitted to the contest
for obvious reasons.
Ignorance Is Bliss
Here in Malaysia things are happening and citizens are rather concerned..
Besides the regular petty crimes and stories of the juicy kind ...
For the past year or so, this country has been embroiled in the 1MDB story.....
Then there is the matter of Goods Service Tax applied across the country...
Some folks are relatively unconcerned despite paying their income tax..
Hey, people! With the snowballing effects from Goods Service Tax....
Plus scandals galore involving the country and her deminishing wealth....
Everybody suffers, not just you and me, everyone you meet...
Of course some smarter one are even making more money...
Going by the government, it is just too bad it is not you or me....
And our ex PM is trying to do good despite his advanced years....
Not doing anything while he was PM and Najib was merely up and coming...
A case of trying to close the barn doors after the horses have bolted...
Crying bloody murder only when he found that the PM has a mind of his own...
Now that he is a PM, Najib is in power and looks to be in control...
Despite the many swirling accusations chipping away his reputation...
The PM is firmly in control and cries out it is all political prosecution...
On the ground, no wonder things are getting worse for the people..
The escalated cost of living with GST and large scale profiteering..
Depressed petroleum and rubber prices, we Malaysians are in trouble....
With accusing fingers being pointed at the PM from ruling government ...
And so much vitriol and regular negative news about this goverment....
Local news today are not worth reading for being so depressing...
And with the current political cat fighting, each political news is sickening...
Maybe one can play ignorant and be unconcerned for Ignorance is Bliss...
Malaysia Boleh.....
I came about when the world was hot and embroiled in a rumble.
When transit men carried all they had in a frayed bundle.
When steel was gold or so I was told, and silkworms are of quietude, for less the people that need them.
When Swinging On A Star was the national anthem.
When sugar was rationed, and horse meat the staple, and vouchers held the value of money.
From heart distress, we wonder how relentless thou art in a promise of milk and honey.
I was carried into my teens by voluntary ships on raging seas, and I was cognizant of stiff black bodies hanging from Southern trees under incidental nights.
It was when I was shaken into the consciousness from the cries of freedom marchers, who claimed the thunderous moments of the Northern lights.
My soul has grown deeply grievous of the unrighteousness of humanity.
For it is from dust we came to dust we return in a nation of sand.
Excerpt from A Float with Memories by Mary E.W. Stephenson
copyright 2002
Some lover's jealousies are such a tight squeezing embrace
that the loved one can't help feeling
coiled and embroiled
like in the grip of a loving beast or literally a bear's hug
And which makes her sigh,
why God ever chose to model her into a beauty
For the near perfection of her face and figure
highlights to him his imperfections
such that her illustrious famed facial grace
transforms him into a suspicious tamed beast!
A possessive kind of guy miner tis he
who jealously guards
this beauty secret
like upon having struck gold
and wishes to lock her up from the world
like a real-life Rapunzel's witch.
Yet as no black clouds can hide the radiant sun
her world soon comes to know
of her innocent screened charms and beauty
despite his protests and measures.
Yet in a world of unscruplous looters
this louvred love cage turns out to be that blessing in disguise
She can no longer be preyed upon by any predator guys.
Thus both lucky and unfortunate is the comely woman
But let her bloom and breathe
in love's cell or engulfing dungeon
for a free bird she was never meant to be for long.
And let her wedded man be her love's protective warden
so no body but he is lured by her look and lovesong!
She can't just forever fly and sing foot-loose and fancy-free.
A plethora of cocks out there might try to charm her
with their new feathers
serenading her with new love songs in the wind.
All she must do is
snap out from
and slip away from
their flirty fantasy.
For she can either opt out and walk out
or stay in and stay on, but not both,
for the sake of her beloved
and wise values of scruples and principles.
Villanelle: The Dilemma of the Non-Violent – 46
Will COP leaders be around in five years nine
Their great careers made Their statues unveiled
To what future Super Men our backs supine
Apparatchiks clubby diplomatic kind
Allegiance to rival parties well-coiled
Will COP leaders be around in five years nine
Spying on one another to undermine
Using public forces to keep peoples embroiled
To what future Super Men our backs supine
Stock-piling nuclear arsenals to churn brine
While oceans lash out the people will be boiled
Will COP leaders be around in five years nine
Mighty men who pat each other to outshine
One another in local Catch-rings all coiled
To what future Super Men our backs supine
To what then duped masses owe their fated grind
If not to nymphomaniac egos well-guiled
Will COP leaders be around in five years nine
To what future Super Men our backs supine
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2015
I wandered lonely as a rose by Autumn's gate
as I lay there in still repose, petals strewn
I fell apart like dessert moon;
The scent that once perfumed my reign
were mellowed by September's rain
I drifted distant in the woods.
All my husks fell to the soil
each petal dried right where it stood
No gardener's hand of hue embroiled
that filament that quivered slow
like dying embers of nights glow
Shambled, windblown as the wind
beneath the last of summer's ray
regretfully I did rescind
As summer lost her fired splay
I wandered,
Lost and alone like a rose,
until the end of summer froze.