Best Erratically Poems
Rosette tapestries of unparalleled glamour
Embroided thoroughly by the wittiest clamor
Magnanimously amorous in grace and wonder
Bewitching and charming though so yonder
Rhetorically out bounding my frugal thoughts
To be "irresistible", my flawless pure cause
Starlight's amiss your ornate romantic spell
Driving me sweetly to madly deep to compel
Handful of metaphors and highfalutin words
Illuminating. Inspiring. Invigorating.
Incubating anyone with one unique style
Wonderful, beautiful, matchless, they foretell
Vividly inventive and bombastic with each stroke
To hardened hearts, you can surely start to stoke
Erratically tender enough to adagio break the silence
Drawing anyone for more and more to your essence
by:
olive eloisa
2:54 pm
Revised April 24, 2014
CONTEST: ANY POEM #24
Sponsor: POET DESTROYER A
3RD PLACE
Sweet the taste of honeyed lips
Upon my own, now drenched in bliss
Nectar tempting, beckoning with
Passion's most consuming kiss
Outpouring tenderness so softly
Though hearts are heavy, they alight
Engulf each thought of rationale
As we succumb to this delight
Outside nothing else exists
While this rare moment we prolong
Ceasing fight and argument, now
We give in to the siren song
The melody we play entrances
As would hypnotic pendulum
Heart strings strum forbidden dances
As it beats a savage drum
Leading up to its crescendo
The rhythm pounds erratically
Pulsing, raging, beats the tempo
Until we find our ecstasy
Cramps creeping and crawling,
an unwelcome reminder.
Why does my body betray
me like an unfaithful secret lover,
chaining me to my bed.
When did my uterus become my enemy,
even the pills offer no sympathy.
As a contradiction of contractions,
crush my organs like sharpened
shards of glass, these strange
territories tighten like heavy torture,
as linings of sore pelvis feel
a tugging pain of shame.
Unable to distract this
typhoon-like monstrosity,
I'm a hostage to
this turbulent intruder.
For those who question body
frames that do not beam,
my frowns are not an option,
they are a veil to the weight
of excruciating fatigue
that feeds the sanity in me.
There's no 'super human' strength
left to curl my fingers into
brass knuckles holding my
burning edges in peace.
Drained by the cries that
crack the surface of my womb,
agitation is expressed
in begrudging outbursts!
Unexpected and unpredictable
pain is a cureless curse,
behaving erratically within
a finely constructed system of tubes.
Once again, I wonder if
this shall be the month that
validates my womanhood.
His heart was black, but I didn't
know.
I needed him, but he said no.
Everything I ever was was stolen by
his addictive drug.
I gave him my love and more with a
cost.
I'll never get back all I've lost.
I begged him to stay and love me
back,
but what I got in return was worse
than a smack.
My love now gone was lain to bed
when he lied and said, "You're mine
to wed."
A lying snake he was, but I
was still lured in by his lullaby.
Six times too many I was his.
Six times too many I was tricked.
I hate myself, I hurt myself.
I hope someday I kill myself.
For taking advantage was easily
executed from him to me.
So, as I lie upon the floor,
the blood will seep, it will pour.
Until I snap back into reality ,
my arms will scar most erratically.
I hate myself, I hurt myself.
Sometimes I isolate myself.
From your clutches I'll be free, but
only if I flee to sea.
Yet, the boat I sail will only sink,
thanks to my unending misery.
The waves crush my bones and cut
my skin, tearing me limb from limb.
I hate myself, I hurt myself.
Again, I'll try to kill myself.
My love has no idea what he
has done to the old Destiny.
But, no longer will I thrash and cut.
The feelings will all melt away
as soon as I kneel down to pray.
My Lord has brought me up anew,
but darkness Will fall back on
through.
Lucifer and his devilish gents will
not stop, they will not rest.
Until they tear my lonely heart bit
by bit... apart...apart...
I hate myself, I hurt myself.
When will I stop disappointing
myself?
That child is like a washing machine
when tucked within her bed,
Arms and legs flail everywhere
No chance you’ll find a head.
I expect that's hiding somewhere down
where you’d expect to find the toes
Where a noggin normally rests
Well! No one really knows.
You lay her down to go to sleep
The first move is the “wash”
Linen, gets all pushed around
erratically till its squashed.
Here’s the move I call the rinse
This one’s rather tame.
Motion, and then rotations start
But not quite yet insane.
Ye Gods!!
Here’s the start of the spin cycle.
As bed begins to rumble
Thrashes mirrored by crashes
Artistic gymnastic tumbles.
Blankets, pillows, clothes
All flying through the air
One stuffed toy arcs past the light
Whoa!
Had to duck a teddy bear!
Of course she always sleeps
Through all this absurdity
Each morning I lament the fact
that she was tucked in carelessly.
images pour erratically
falling on eyelashes
tears fueling my pen
always the sadness
finds me waiting
wrenching emotion
twisting my heart
in a vice grip
can't stop the images
from driving me insane
raped and murdered eyes
pleading for children
drowned beneath
adult oppression
and addiction
it's the emptiness
that I write
a cursed
social consciousness
that blinds
I don't write love
for it lies
can't find happiness
to send to my pen
for it lays behind
my eyes
a tired whore
spent and overused
with too much hype
can't even pen security
never found that either
under blankets or kisses
not even in hardened urges
that deflate just as quickly
conveying only want and need
no I write of sadness
I return there
a drunk to cheap wine
guzzling my addiction
with lust
it holds me safe
for it is familiar
I live it
I see it
it knows my name
and I know its
we are intimate
sadness and I
a couple
twisted together
in some grotesque
sexual position
culiminating in ******
with my depressed pen
Wrestling the wreckage, I'm fading into darkness unknown.
My head is going straight to voicemail, missing calls from home.
These veins are erratically static, strung out on a backseat,
but the memory of music shall comfort me.
I am so scared, but trapped in such melody.
A bitter-sweet, temporary goodbye;
there isn't a stranger in sight to notice that I'm not alright.
In this night, take me back to simpler times,
when these wheels never spun out on the ice.
Pain has made me so slippery,
giving in to triggering trickery.
Please pray for me.
I am in need of jaws,
to bite off these flaws!
I am almost gone beyond repair.
God, I am so scared!
Written: December 26, 2023, For Robert James Liguori Contest
__________________________________________
Poem Inspired by Joe Bonamassa song: Cradle Rock
If I were a crib, would you allow me to rock?
In the soothing embrace of a lullaby talk.
Do you vow to watch out for me with care?
If I sway erratically through the air,
If I were an anchor, I'd secure your ship.
Sustaining you and not allowing you to dip.
Even when it storms, I'll hold you tight.
An unshakeable anchor built for the night.
If I turned an atom, I'd glide through the trees.
Could you view me? Could you hear my pleas?
Would you be struck by the facets of life's chart?
Could I potentially be inconspicuous amid my art?
If my mobile phone fails yet, I am outside.
Will you allow your dogs to lead me and guide?
Would you save me with a howl and a growl?
Do you zealously guard my desire and soul?
Should I be a baby? Could you let me fall?
Or will your hands wrap me and assist my crawl?
Would you tenderly supervise my first step?
And protect me from the chaotic misstep.
If I'm a felon, will you aim for my caught?
Or will you be able to set me free, fraught?
With caring eyes, could you sense my pain?
Allow me to gain relief by cutting this chain.
If I were a tiger, would you have me in a cage?
Or will you let me roam, wild and uncaged?
Will you accept my chaos and my savage desire?
Then will I ignite with ravenous zeal and fire?
Don't let the euphoria be the sole escape.
There's plenty else in life to relish and shape.
Discover your purpose and your drive.
And turn your ambitions and hobbies alive.
Yet if you are surrounded by fumes and haze,
You'll skip all the vibrant hues life displays.
Explore the world as if it were a white slate.
So much you may miss as you're at a fete.
Will you allow me to view if I am a night light?
Let your soul shine, and darkness will be bright.
Offering guidance while casting a soft glow.
An inspiration, no matter where you show.
head heavy
in hands
squeezing pounding temples
trapped in a trance
seated in this place
of emptiness and despair
the place that has welcomed
all of my fears and fractures
my heart pounds erratically
my eyes swollen and shot
a hypnotic gaze
into the somber gray
stone tile floor
that I’m sure
is hiding the demons
I have chosen to ignore
the ventilation fan
is loud and deafening
please stop, please stop
for God’s sake!
the churning acid
arouses anxiety in my angry pit
my blurry awakening shameful face
is exposed and shunned
a fading illusion
of my demand
that I’ve had enough
I’m finally done
what does this vicious cycle
have in store
just like yesterdays
just like tomorrows
“bite the hair”
the temptation to escape
always near
addiction is a seductive liar
that manipulates and deceives
not willing to seek restraint
until every sense of self-worth
is destroyed and torched in fire
my mind twists painfully
in a chaotic frenzy
memories that won’t decompose
a persistent clamor
reliving the bowels
of a drained and disappointed past
the blews persist,
unyielding in their grip
a lifetime,
of dark and ugly people
of dark and ugly decisions
mind drifts,
to even darker uglier thoughts
Heard the term “outside the box”?
What box are they referring to?
Sitting in my jammies at my computer
Don't see no box, do you?
A term you hear a lot these days
What can it possibly mean
This old guy is totally confused
Totally betwixt and between
Catch phrases have always confused me
Prefer simple Dick and Jane words
So all us grandpas can decipher them
This stuff is sure for the birds
Maybe I'll get an old cardboard box
And sit me therein for a while
Then emerge and start thinking of stuff
In a clever “outside the box” style
Really that's not at all what it means
Heard someone say emphatically
To go where no man has ever gone
Think a lot more erratically
Now confused much more than ever
Think I'll lie down for a while
Till the world spins a few more times
And I get back my winning smile
© Jack Ellison 2014<>
Damaged Goods
In summer sun’s sagacious rays
A butterfly with ragged wings
Settled on the sidewalk
In search of food or rest or other things
Slow, strolling steps brought me to her side that day
Her wings were slowly yawning to and fro
I saw the ragged edges marred
A predator had tried to take her life
She got away but bore the scar
Now she flies erratically, and slow
But ah, her colors shimmered so!
Blue purer than the air
In the sun, sparkled like a million atom stars
Yellow so shy it was hardly there
Emerald splashed like strokes by Michelangelo
They froze my gait
And captured my eyes
‘til I was lost in a universe
of delicate size
and majestic fate
I held my breath
My throat grew tight
I fell in love
With the spirits’ fight
To live beyond its brush with death
Feelings tumbled from my breast
If I could only paste a part of my soul
On her wing to repair its ragged loss
I gladly would, to make her whole
Who more than measure, she had blest
But hope and want rarely comply
With harsh reality
Or the step of time.
Nor can beauty cure insanity
Or heart enfold a butterfly
So I stood entranced by her beauty there
And caught the spirit of her bravery
Though torn and damaged goods
She was the loveliest butterfly I shall ever see
Her injury made her only all the more fair
She could not have known how much I cared
We both were bound by destiny
The moment passed as moments do
And then she flew away from me
Fluttering and stumbling through the air
Damaging winds whip and slash, whirling wild, drenching rain,
Roads decimated come to standstill, as gushing floods reign,
Inundating swollen terrains, roiling deluge of a tenebrous day,
As trees bowing to gusting storms; erratically waltz and sway.
Houses naked with roofs blown, now ache, mangled and worn,
Where loss of life, in makeshift shelter, neighbors sadly mourn;
Sharing stories of a sudden event, rushing through the town,
Disheartened life, since torn-down, anguishing in wistful frown.
Danger lurks, where flood waters submerge fallen power lines,
As rivers and tributaries of muddy-flows, float uprooted vines,
What once was a harmonic rhythm, now perturbs pulse of life,
Dawn that rose on a lambent arc, now shudders in sullen strife.
People stranded, anxious for rescue, assess the damage done,
Cars are destroyed, fires are burning, recovery has just begun;
Sirens blaring of dire emergencies, are chasing to plug gas-leaks,
Searching for victims of drowning, scouting the rivers and creeks.
Swindlers are hovering, ripping-off elderly, exacting heavy price,
Hit by the tragedy first, then by the cruelty of defrauding vice;
Some now blame callous humanity, some name it~ an act of fate,
Mired in untold challenges, as remnants-torrent start to abate.
Dancer
Non-conformist
Delicate butterfly
Wondrous Bohemian beauty
Colours dance erratically over
The inanimate gardenscape
Capricious frolicking
Unknown Rhythm
Dancer
20th July 2022
Radical Rictameter Contest Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Caren Krutsinger
2 4 6 8 10 8 6 4 2 poetrysoup.com syllable counter
Written: September 330, 2024 For Edward Ibeh Contest
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A brown ribbon-like road with a blue sky.
A jungle of green, with the sky peeking high.
Asters are velvety rich, as a grasshopper's call.
Time flies—today is heat and tomorrow is fall.
Do you beguile me erratically, Hope?
The day of your birth has just waned.
But its white wings are full of scope.
With eyes that sang rhapsody, light reigned.
Grew bulky and bright and my path was clear.
Under their calming beams and smiles, dear...
A path going to some guilt-free land.
To which a star drops from the nightstand!
When did I leave the prisonhouse of clay?
My cantankerous spirit will vanish away.
We bestow all praise on the eternal elixir of bliss.
Oh, don't bury me amid rotting bones diss.
Amid a moon icy light, marble slabs shimmer.
Where a hapless mourner will always simmer.
Upon the graves of those who lie in peace.
While basking in the sun on a woodland lease.
Indulge in the September and fall faith.
September is unlike every other wraith
Colors and weather swing over the day.
No other month can claim the same way.
Season of hazy and luscious ripeness.
Loyal ally of the sun as it earns rifeness.
Crafting a scheme to load and bless him.
Vine-covered thatch-eaves surge, full of vim.
Using pears to twist the mossy home trees.
And yield every fruit its full, deep bloom breeze.
Inflate the squash and cram the hazel seeds.
With the tasty kernel, deeper buds will breed.
And further, later blooms for the bees.
Until they believe warm days will never cease.
The summer season has clogged their pores.
Who hasn't seen you often in your store?
In a world where dreams are rakish and quixotic,
Where quiddity seems extravagantly chaotic,
A chivalrous soul dares to be different.
With a heart that beats fervently, so magnificent.
Romantic notions dance in their minds.
A visionary quintessence they find,
Chimerical dreams they hold dear,
Preposterous, dreadful tracks they fear.
Age is just a number, they say.
Irrelevant in the pellucid pursuit of their way,
Happiness is the sense that one matters,
And their dreams are the ladder.
In a world where opia destruction prevails,
Where chaos and despair often trail,
Quixotic evidence emerges, bold and bright.
Roguish scope for rebuilding shines a light.
Dare to alter the world, they proclaim.
With sapidity gnawing such a flame,
It may seem quixotic, and some may sneer.
But their seraphic vision is so clear.
For in their hearts, they sojourn the key.
In a world where dreams roam free,
Where impossibilities become realities
And it's in this world, they find their vitality.
There is no scarcity of opportunity.
To earn a living doing what they love, with glee,
Chasing in kuebiko without compromise.
For in their dreams, their spirit lies.
It erratically seems as if curbing entropy,
Is our quixotic goal in the cosmos, you foresee,
But in the midst of chaos, they stand tall.
With a determination that never stalls.
In a world where dreams are quixotic,
They refuse to be virtuosically robotic.
They believe in the anecdoche dreams.
And nothing, awry reality, dims their gleams.
They agnize that each sonder is just a number.
And that happiness is a monachopsis to remember.
They embrace the chivalrous and the romantic.
With an onism spirit that's truly ecstatic.
Word Bank:
Rakish: Smart; jaunty; dashing
Quixotic: Idealistic
Quiddity: Core-Subconscience
Chivalrous: Sublime, virtuous
Pellucid: Translucently clear
Opia: Dope, Addiction
Sapidity: Zest, Sapor
Kuebiko: State of exhaustion
Entropy: A situation of panic or disorder
Anecdoche: Amusing Tale
Sonder: Empathy, Compassion
Monachopsis: Confused
Onism: Delineate the awareness of how little of the world we will experience