Best Exertions Poems
Everything had gone well and the night was still young,
she had made her intentions quite clear,
home alone we're not walking, the drink was now talking,
and the score was one-nil to the beer.
So we flagged down a cab, made a ten minute trip
hoping none of the neighbours would see,
helped her walk down the drive hoping I wouldn't slip
and then she turned round and came back for me.
We crashed into the hall, and both leaned on the wall
in an effort to regain our breath,
altogether uncertain if this nights exertions
would not end in premature death.
In the bedroom she tore off her blouse and her corset,
her lumbar support and her truss,
left her ankle support on, did she just forget
but I thought I'd not make any fuss.
After I had stripped off with the help of my frame
and rolled onto the bed in the dark,
we lay side by side, now with nothing to hide
and both waited for that certain spark.
As we stared at the ceiling, a terrible feeling
was finally now seeping through,
that the worst of our fears, after all the long years
we'd forgotten what we're supposed to do.
8th August 2018
For contest 'A rattling rhyme', sponsor Nina Parmenter
(*- This is not autobiographical. Yet. )
Categories:
exertions, humor, sensual,
Form:
Rhyme
All music is relational
Even if the instrument itself is unconscious:
Like tree leaves in a breeze
Telegraph their praise in God's presence,
Dot and dash an earthy hymn;
Like an earthquake whose rumblings
Remind you that in geological time
All that we think of as solid and whole
Shares water's properties;
Even mountains bend the knee;
What was tight winds down, relaxes,
Like a German music box,
Becomes a cosmic "OM" at last;
Only whales, those connoisseurs
Of deep and low, perhaps can hear.
Our human ears span such a narrow range,
Need scientific augmentation to hear
Last ringing reverberations of "Big Bang."
For sound is not just vibrating air,
Our eyes too have their limits
As invisible stars also play their role
And human senses discover new symphonies
In the music of the spheres.
For doesn't vision inflame the heart as well
As guitarist strums and fingers dance on ivory?
Have you never seen a string's exertions,
Or felt invisible waves of tympani?
Yes, even bowels play a role!
And, oh, the stories told in sound alone
Can find their poetry in dance,
A music of another kind,
A kinetic vision of the soul itself.
Whatever touches heart is music,
Cannot be missed, only denied,
Oh, do not ask for whom God sings,
He always sings your song.
Long Tooth
April 21, 2016
Categories:
exertions, music,
Form:
Free verse
'...and then the lighting of the lamps.'
-T.S. Eliot
Swallows flit and dart, the glow of evening
settles o'er the fields, the day is fading;
sunset gilds the sky with glorious luster,
vibrant reds and golds, and softer shading.
Lamps are lit, the countryside is flickering
in candlelight, the cows are coming home;
peacefulness descends in waves of twilight,
the animals are safe, no need to roam.
Horses tethered to their posts are waiting
for the exertions of the day ahead;
farmers partake, extinguish their candles
to darkness, and then take themselves to bed
to pray for courage to endure their toil,
for days they spend in harness to the soil.
Categories:
exertions, faith, family, work, day,
Form:
Sonnet
Why should we be in love though it’ll end?
And we both know so, so why should we start?
Knowing that our feelings and time in vain spent
And we gain nothing but the aching of the heart
It is a matter of time till our parting
I think we should not better commence
A journey that has a joyful starting
But shortly in sadness and tears ends
Stop using your heart and use your mind
For the heart sometimes be so reckless
Think of our alleged love and you shall find
That our exertions will be worthless
Teenage love shall give us nothing but pain
And we may love each other, but in vain
Categories:
exertions, leaving, lost love, love,
Form:
Sonnet
A cacophony of cheers
Sand sprays like fireworks
From feet, hands, ball, hair.
Four women, two-a-side,
In a battle for the ages.
A motion of fluidity and a
Knowledge brought forth
From years in the fray.
Sun, rain, the elements,
Just more adversaries
In a long procession of
Combatants put asunder
By their clear dominance
Of a gritty game of volleys.
The Americans had few
Times met with struggle
Along their long journey
Toward the gilded yellow
Badge of Olympic honor,
But this night the glint in
The eye, the coordinate
Movements of limbs and
Lengths and deliberations,
The perfection of intents
And wiles and exertions,
Would not birth triumph,
But instead place a bitter
Pill flat on their tongues.
But such is the bare truth
Of warfare, and such is
The coming of wisdom ...
For without that sour taste
And constricting swallow,
We have no estimation
Of the finer, sweeter things
That the battlements of
Life hold within their walls.
Gold knows no favorite,
Nor does it gleam in the
Eyes of the fortunate only.
Momentum true is the key
And this night it flowed
For the sake of those
Whose feet knew this
Beach as their own ...
Who felt their home and
Peoples and affinities all
In the grainy coursing of
Cold granules underfoot,
And sometimes, when
The heart has the peace
Of its OWN around it, that's
All the difference needed.
But character outshines
The most precious ores,
And in that bold and true
Respect, our wonderfully
Beautiful and courageous
Girls of Stars and Stripes,
Shall ALWAYS stand at
The top of the podium,
And the anthem of our
Appreciation and pride
Will always play in their
Ears ...
We love you, Kerri
Walsh Jennings and April
Ross, and you are, without
Question or argument,
The very BEST.
Categories:
exertions, america, beach, courage, patriotic,
Form:
Free verse
The river smells like damp cotton this morning,
the weather has been so complimentary to our exertions
frost invades the nights nicely and soft sunshine comforts our faces in daytime,
we have been averaging 26 miles per day for more than a week
which gives us fat optimism that we'll reach the he Mandan villages before November,
our sense of serenity and ease is abruptly shaken by a suspicious sight,
from the boats we notice , not far inland
a settlement abandoned to arid earth and the whispers of sullen fate,
with a detachment of 12 men
this broken place in paradise is searched
with the circumspection of armed archaeologists,
from wood and rock totems
we have surmised that this village belonged to the Arikaras,
evidently, they systematically left here, or were decimated by some terrible force,
a gutteral roar rips into my ears
as I see the most monstrous beast of my life,
it is the great grizzly bear, wicked in temper and simply petrifying in stature,
about 40 yards away Sheilds stumbles out of an Arikara sod lodge
as the grizzly emerges from it's liar, standing upright like a tower of terror
fangs in the air and claws ready to thrash
Sheilds buries a slug right into it's chest from 10 feet away
sounding like a large stone plunging deep into water
white panic stretches his face while the beast stammers for a moment,
there is no time for him to reload
and he starts running to the canoe faster than a fuse
several of us take aim and unleash a crossfire of lead
pegging the bear every which way halting it's chase
and with the speed of a two horse wagon it's running to the brush,
we forgo the hunt and evacuate to the canoes,
enough has been seen here,
J.A.B.
Categories:
exertions, adventure,
Form:
Epic
Nightfall on
the metropolis
Untold millions head
homeward
Tired from the day's exertions
They slow down and prepare for sleep
But the "night people"
are just starting out
They will fill the bars and dancehalls tonight
while the commuters sleep
In this "unreal" city
there are night trippers and
day trippers
In countless bars wine and beer are poured
In countless homes lights go out
Darkness covers the metropolis
The fate of the city denizens
is determined by how they react to mass culture
One million dreams in this "unreal" city
Some will be shattered
Some will come to fruition
The dice are rolled
and the dye is cast
Categories:
exertions, night,
Form:
Ballad
Golda and Goofus.
or how a young Baer lost his luncheon and found that man need not live by bread alone.
Deep, deep in a pine-wood in the Adirondacks,
the Baers owned a cabin. [Offset against tax.]
Daddy Baer, it was said, was a Wall Street tycoon.
Red-Hot Momma Baer never rose before noon.
Their son, 'Goofus' Baer, was a no-good lazy bum;
always scratching his groin and chewing pink gum.
On a fine summer's day, the Baers went for a stroll,
left the lunch table set. [which you may think is droll]
Meantime, up wandered Golda, a pubescent blonde lass,
in a bright gingham dirndl and brim-full of sass.
Lost her way in the woods; she was hungry, footsore,
so without hesitation, she knocked on the door.
No answer, walked in, saw comestible display:
Daddy's cold chili 'carne, she passed sans delay.
Momma's limp spinach salad met with sheer disdain,
But Goofus's jelly doughnuts! She couldn’t refrain.
Washing down the repast with the Baer’s best root beer,
she felt so damn' tired - almost fell on her rear.
Climbing the stairs for much-needed repose,
she passed Daddy Baer’s chamber just wrinkling her nose.
Momma's chintzy boudoir was too outre to suit,
but Goofus's macho haven was darling and cute!
[Papered with Harley posters and pneumatic nudes.]
Golda dropped off to sleep - dreamt of muscle-bound pseuds.
Hungry from exertions, the Baers slavered for food:
adults - minor tampering – Goofus’s wakening was rude.
“My favouritest din-din’s been gobbled!" was his whine.
"They only nibbled yours, left the mere smell of mine!
I'm going to bed: don’t expect to see me soon.
There’s goodies stashed there: I'll work-out all afternoon."
Captin revisionist Cat
Categories:
exertions, funny, , cute,
Form:
because life is limited
men measure the length of life
using the rulers marked to their own standard;
some cry, some sigh, some worry to death, while others,
tremble with uncontrollable rage; yet they struggle to stretch
their life as long as they can and hold onto it, though they know
very well life is misery
the poor kneel down at dawn in front of unknown divine spirits,
offering freshly drawn water and begging for relief from
dire poverty and for a better life;
the rich are hanging onto the elixir of eternal life,
which was tens of thousands of years of constant exertions to discover;
but the ends are the same, every one most go someday and that’s why, though not of own will, but with closed resigning eyes submit to death
and that makes me wonder why pathetic life is not worth
stretching or reincarnating though, everyone is hanging onto
an illusory hope that is thinner than a spider web
agonizing to extend it;
no matter how large sum the money you spend
there is no miracle drug warrants for eternal life;
no matter how much you cry at the top of your voice
there is no spirit would hear your cry;
every life, poor or rich, must go one day
why doesn’t anyone admit themselves that every life is destined
from birth to die? all are dwelling on this side of the river
for a while and time comes most cross the river. they step on
the stepping stones that extend to the eternal world laying
beyond yonder horizon. even though this world may be a challenging place to live for a while.
last night, I saw many souls crossing over the stepping stones
to the other side of the world, they looked so pathetic because
they were dragging their feet with drooping shoulders as if cows
taken to a slaughterhouse
Categories:
exertions, anxiety, death, destiny, life,
Form:
Free verse
Hey,come 3rd quarter of each calender year, it is that time of the year again,
This phenomenon is headlined in local dailies each day, again and again...
An enviromental situation, all kinds of experts in general do agree...
A regular man-made consequence from widespread clearing and burning of trees..
All over the country, as in the whole Asian region, the sun is but a blur pall of crimson...
Evidence of the filtering effects of the haze particles in atmospheric conditions..
This pall of haze or jerebu is now a password upon which to start a conversation...
Something akin to the British How's The Weather way of striking up a conversation..
Make a comment about this hazy situation and you can be sure of an observation...
That something urgent needs to be quickly done to elevate this distressing condition...
Everyman in the street is aware of this thick smoky mist that envelope the environment...
People are advised to use face masks to reduce the intake of unhealthy irritants...
Even as the sale of face masks are flying off the shelves, what a situation...
People with breathing problems like asthma are to stay indoors, lessen outdoor exertions..
Scheduled flights has to be cancelled unless flying visibility index is acceptable...
Schools are ordered to close when the official haze index breach certain levels...
Cloud seeding efforts are in force to seed rainfall which will clear considerably the opaque sky..
Just so that such unhealthy and unfavourable conditions will not cloud future skies...
Government efforts are intensified to once again negotiate for cross border cooperation...
Time and again, all these actions are routine responses to mitigate the people's indignation...
For year to year, we the public , suffer all kinds of inconveniences and challenges..
When each calender year enters the 3rd quarter, we suffer again this haze in stages..
Hopes are high, maybe this year things will be different, things will be better...
Down come the promised rain and the situation clears, until the next year...
When once again we all go through the whole rigmorale of negotiations and deliberations...
Safety measures and advice for the masses, cloud seeding efforts and of course, fervent prayers...
Welcome to the haze situation here in Asia...!
Categories:
exertions, autumn, earth, environment, introspection,
Form:
Narrative
Nineteen Eighty, tell me,
Where are you?
What are you trying to be?
This week, you're 1963
And there's even
Talk of a rebirth of '67
But that's next week.
Nineteen Eighty, tell me,
When will you be mine?
A little bit '59,
I'll not share you with a Beatnik,
Take a rest after the exertions,
Punk revolutions,
Before our old friend,
Sweet nostalgia,
Goes round the bend.
("Nineteen Eighty Tell Me" has been reproduced more or less as it was originally scrawled in a red Silvine memo book in the very summer of 1980.)
Categories:
exertions, fashion, nostalgia, satire,
Form:
Free verse
POEM BY BASHO
We were quiet now,
still breathing deeply from
the sexual exertions of our
late middle age, guided by
the music, gliding toward a
landing through the ambient
haze of unconditional love
The Japanese singer with the
black eyes and hair and the
rising sun mouth, lived her
rhythm and blues through the
discipline of the koto, did a
high soaring wail as the final
jetliner of the Syracuse evening
climbed toward the moon that
was a cold silver smile above
the snow-covered city where
we daily delight in the details
of desire
Our transition into clarity
was the sonic antithesis of
a poem by Basho:
Seventeen seconds
of screaming haiku on a
February night!
Categories:
exertions, love, marriage, sexy,
Form:
Free verse
Winston has passed on...
She heard him rummaging, turning on taps
opening the fridge, you know, stuff like that
removing her coat, a black felt-like hat
she set the long table and stroked her sad cat
then calling out as he stomped upstairs
You know that snow has stopped out there?
idly listening to his suitcases click
life, she mused, is cruel, unseemly quick
You see he'd bought his doggie fresh meat
rarely would Winston receive such a treat
she vigorously scrambled eggs with soft butter
anxiously preparing a meal for their supper
their tea lightly milked before she'd reveal
she'd buried his dog in that far orchard field
buried him deep in a Hessian sack
buried him deep next to old Jack
Winston will never again play fetch
eat them damn apples **** dribble retch
how could she describe Winston's demise
how could she prevaricate confabulate lie
they'd constantly worried about it all going to far
those hoops that tunnel that damn see-saw
devilish chicanes coloured balls
Yet round and round he loved it all
so feckin happy before he finally expired
one more summer you know he'd be nearly retired
excessive exertions is what they would say
Vet said so, don't ya know last Wed-nes-day
now poor Winston would run no more
howl to get in before peeing on the floor
don't cry she sobbled it is for the best
but I felt such guilt I must also state this
before I smothered that big head in wet clay
I painted his death mask earlier today
Oh how he wept as he turned sad and broken
Winston's image, a poorly executed token
Categories:
exertions, hilarious, , cute,
Form:
Anti-Poem — “Baxter Street Monday”
me trudging walking
gripping onward forward
traipsing baxter street monday
and its steep inclines
going up like a dizzy sparrow
passing vertical merry go rounds
the sly moulin rouge turnabouts
that sip spit with maraschino endives
scanning thighs ripe with hard-ons
the stoner pink boys
lost in rainbow cul-de-sacs
lost amidst the traffic tirades
the propelling grind of accelerators
up up and onward everlasting
floating hovering over shy ascensions
in ravenous echo park
me scratching grinding like steel death
holding tight the skin wheel
trudging baxter street monday
the morning reality suspensions
the daily cyclotron of kidney exertions
of ascending footsteps moving skinward
now racing down baxter street monday
descending and plummeting
passing vertical merry go rounds
the sly moulin rouge turnabouts
i see my sista rosa gonzalez
she be screaming down with wet wings
sending love bouquets to my los angeles
Categories:
exertions, life, memory,
Form:
Free verse
Soft moonlight streams through the window
and in its pale, golden glow
faint sweat sheen glistens on pink, flushed skin
speaking of love’s pleasurable exertions recently ended.
Fingertips trace the contours of legs, hips and breasts
feeling the slight twitches of small muscles
still not settled from over-stimulation.
Each breath drawn is like inhaling fire
but its warmth feels cool on heated flesh
as two bodies snuggle close,
hearts beating a sensual counterpoint,
afraid of breaking the connection
holding two spirits so closely together.
Then lips meet lips in a tender kiss
and two meld into one once more to greet the sunrise
in the most primitive and intense
celebration of life.
Categories:
exertions, love, passion, sensual,
Form:
Narrative