Best Fangled Poems
Underworld, of changelings,
where shadows loom,
There lies a world, vitrified, consumed,
Its surface hardened, a relic of alchelimes,
a testament to sorrow, frozen in language
warning signs.
Once a haven of life, brimming with dreams,
now encased in glass, a tragic plightstoscene.
Whispers of laughter, now silenced,
veiled by the icy grip,
by memories assailed upon it's sardonic lips
North, stood a river, flowing,
purely succumbing to the liquid cascade of dreams.
Now stands a monument,
empty and obscure,
a sewage treatment plant of fear
and conspiracy, not theory,
but excremeofsupremacy
of Triremes of war eclipsing peace and prosperity.
A mosaic of black emotion, punishment's devotions.
Change resides in this vitrified tomb,
like fangled shards
of black mirror cutting Bards and Poets in handling, reflecting from corpused firmament womb, harpypsychords in accord with gloominess
and despair
etched on its face,
Obsidian tears.
The competing vision of the North-
sees a great Western deluge. A revival of the Sisterlings and the Brotherly.
Beasts roam like children in caravans
to witness mankind,
to pay homage for eyes opened,
having seen for the first time,
how things are meant to be, sublime.
Categories:
fangled, art,
Form:
My computer and I, always good friends,
Have avoided all the new-fangled trends.
Long ago I decided it would work for me,
Not the other way around, don’t you see?
I don’t need “Word” trying to get in my head!
For years, “Excel” has held me in good stead.
By modern standards, seen with the relics…
A monitor, keyboard, and a mouse that clicks.
I’m too old to change, my old ways I’ll cling,
For I can still make my old computer sing!
Categories:
fangled, humorous, old,
Form:
Couplet
Fade to the back
Dreaded memories
Ascend to no man’s land
Where no one knows you
Where no one recognize the past
That imprisoned them
It is a new year
Time to look beyond the faults
Of yesteryear
No one lives there anymore
The blanket of comfort has lost its shine
Don’t be fooled by your thoughts and feelings
Try something new-fangled
Just to change your frame of mind
An innovative outcome deserves a diverse approach
Don’t be stuck in that space where comfort becomes your prison
‘Cause it is all you’ve ever known
Things will remain the same
Those memories will remain your prison
Be the change - start today
©220120141455
Categories:
fangled, change, life,
Form:
Free verse
Toasty mornings with teakettles whistling bring to mind Danish days on Marata’s
horse farm, ponies prancing in the unusually warm sunlight, and new fangled
sparkling silver water fountains. Mirada, Karen and Laura’s Mom hosted Bob, Jamie
and I for a summer vacation. We had just settled into the whitewashed kitchen
when the problem was presented to us. For years the housed herd of guest horses
had been watered by filling lovely old white porcelain cast iron tubs which had been
scattered all over the rolling green fields of the farm in Faum.
Mirada had the forward thinking idea of saving farm hand time [and her the hourly
wage] of piping water to these beautiful horses with new fountains! Yes, my
lovelies, all you have to do is push your nose right here. Out bubbles crisp cool clean
water, minus the dead flies, which often drowned in the old tub! Seems horses are
very suspicious. Nope the herd was having none of it. Soon, if not cajoled, they
would be passing out from lack of water in the Danish summer’s heat. What foreign
creature had replaced their friendly old white tub of water? Where was their water?
They saw no water. Sure there was a scent of it from that pole but “What the
heck?” snorted the black stallion shaking his head at the girls.
We were told there would be no breakfast, lunch or dinner for us until we helped
get those horses watered. So off we went, shuffling our feet to a meet and greet
with the herd. Marata and the girls knew the horses. We almost knew a horse from
a cow. I went right up to this large black beauty, pet his nose and rubbed my cheek
on his face, love at first sight! Blackie started following me and we walked toward
the fountain. Then the sun glanced off the dreaded thing and he shied. I pushed the
control, filled my hands with water and brought him some. Lordy, lordy he drank
from my hands! The herd behind him whinnied. I tried to get him nearer the fountain
but it was a no, go. He’d drink from my hands but not the fountain. It just goes to
show you, you can lead a horse to water but you can’t make him drink, is really
TRUE!
*The next morning Laura begged her own pony AGAIN to drink. He finally did the rest did too then ;)
Categories:
fangled, familyold, water, farm, horse,
Form:
Narrative
Peace is though difficult
Yet not impossible to uphold,
All the kings of the states
Must remain self-concerned,
Without poking noses
Into the affairs of others,
Curbing cupidity
To expand the territories,
Subjugate the nations of the world,
Enforce the so-called personal visions,
And put the humanity
Into new-fangled trials.
All the weapons
Latest, conventional or primitive,
Precious or utterly worthless,
Nuclear or less potential
Made of common explosives,
Be spoiled,
Be thrown into the deep waters
Of the unexplored seas,
Wherefrom no devilish character
Could ransack them back.
When some is killed
Neither Hindu, nor Muslim,
Neither Christian nor Jew is killed,
But a man: a child of Adam and Eve,
The same red substance
Pours out of his injured ragged body,
And it pains me.
All the weapon producing units,
And the blood spattering gadgets:
The tanks and cannons,
Mortars or machines guns,
The armadas
With the squadrons of fighter-jets,
Submarines that navigate
Secretly chase the nautical targets,
Catapults and all the missiles launching frames,
Be thrown into furnaces
To be remodelled and redesigned
Into of the earth moving machinery,
Instead of the appliances
Colouring the Earth red.
All the medals or symbols
Of chivalry be taken back,
Combatants and men
With the crowned shoulders,
And medalled chests,
Who often move in the battle-fields
Puffed with the martial pride,
Imparting, rendering
No service to humanity
Be employed to plough the lands,
Plant the gardens,
Make the dams and reservoirs of water,
Feed the cattle and get them milked on time,
Engaged them
To perform some rewarding assignments.
Upon the earth,
There must not be a single
Blood-claiming weapon;
If men are incensed
And fight is unavoidable,
They must fight with knives and rapiers,
Swords and shields made of gossamer,
All the time heeding
Lest they should break;
And all inhabitants of the world
At least once a day must trim their nails,
Lest when they are indignant
And resentful should scratch
The skin of fellow beings or their own.
Categories:
fangled, peaceearth, men,
Form:
Sofia the large sandy crab
Afraid of a life too drab
Took to the sea
With her cousin Kong Kee
And a six spotted floundering dab
Oh Kong Kee now this is the life
No worries no trouble no strife
Shoulda done this before
She got hit by an oar
And that was the end of her life
The dab and Kong Kee carried on
To finish their cousins swansong
The smell of fishrot
In a new fangled pot
Was the end for the cousin called Kong
Now the dab swims alone in the bay
While the sun shines he's still making hay
For he's back whence he went
Pocket money all spent
And so happily, blissfully gay
Dab met a small fish on the way
Who aspired to become a great ray
He ate as he must
Til his belly did bust
And he ends up as soup o' the day
There's a moral in each little story
So never go hunting for glory
You'll end up on a plate
Tryin' to mimic a skate
When you're really a small johnny dory
Categories:
fangled, children, kids, imagination,
Form:
Limerick
To sing out the Star Spangled Banner
In the most appropriate manner
You must have four
To sound out more
And highlight that new fangled scanner
Categories:
fangled, music,
Form:
Limerick
TECHNOLOGY has finally overcome STORYBOOKS;
psychic VISIONS and scientists have foretold.
COUSIN prefers these new-fangled technologies;
it's a tiny book stronghold.
Categories:
fangled, cousin, internet, technology,
Form:
Free verse
I checked out 20 words we owe to William Shakespeare and included them in this ditty about teenagers. The Bard is emboldened herein :
Bedazzled by new-fangled, mutitudinous belongings,
Fashionable youth in half-blooded pageantry
Swagger uncomfortably amidst the inaudible manager
Of their disheartening addictions.
Scuffling shy of eyeball contact
They Cold-bloodedly eschew humanity
And view any effort toward eventful social intercourse
As an assassination attempt by an arch-villain
and as the Ladybird, play dead when threatened.
Categories:
fangled, funny, technology, teenage,
Form:
Free verse
who out foxed who?....
a fox chases field mice
into the house
mouse invasion....
Normandy, the cat, smacks lips
while on night duty
the sound of vagrants....
two different worlds are living
just floorboards apart
silence of the lambs....
scurrying feet on attic floor
wakes man counting sheep
an angry farmwife...
a carving knife is missing
from the kitchen drawer
a tail-less mouse....
angry rodent chases the
farmer and his wife
three blind-sighted mice
run up the grandfather clock....
grandma reads nursery rhymes
new fangled mouse trap
is set with a piece of cheese...
dinner was a snap
cow jumps over moon....
no creatures were stirring
not even a mouse
+++++++++++++++++++++++
Dedicated to "a mouse goes "squeak" !! For Skat !!
Categories:
fangled, old,
Form:
Haiku
I checked out 20 words we owe to William Shakespeare and included them in this ditty about teenagers.
Bedazzled by new-fangled, multitudinous belongings,
fashionable youth in half-blooded pageantry
swagger uncomfortably amidst the inaudible manager
of their disheartening addictions.
Scuffling shy of eyeball contact
they cold-bloodedly eschew humanity
and view any effort toward eventful social intercourse
as an assassination attempt by an arch-villain
and as the Ladybird; play dead when threatened.
Categories:
fangled, youth,
Form:
Quatrain
A lot of fancy gizmos befuddle me in this technological age,
Where perplexing computers, texting and twittering are all the rage!
I can empathize with the feller who renounced horse and buggy days,
To subdue the baffling horseless carriage that became all the craze!
Clyde Schlunk reluctantly retired his faithful horse and buggy wheels.
He was the first in town to own one of those new fangled automobiles!
'Twas simple to harness a horse, feed him oats and shoe him all those years.
Now he must master complex clutches, cranks and shifting gears!
'Twas hard to break years of habits spent driving a buggy and horse.
He still had his buggy whip near at hand in the automobile of course!
When trying to stop the machine he'd yell, "Whoa! Nellie! Whoa!"
As he tried to avoid a tree or slid through slippery sleet and snow!
His erratic driving terrified chickens, horses and little old ladies,
As he whipped about that sedate little town like a bat out of Hades!
The only pain he suffered from his horse was a kick now and then.
But when cranking the carriage he busted his knuckles over and over again!
He still hollered "haw" to turn to the left and "gee" to turn to the right!
Did the town folks' ridicule bother him? Not by a blame sight!
Clyde never learned how to control those forty horses under the hood.
He couldn't rein 'em in causing all sorts of havoc in the neighborhood!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 2 in Joyce Johnson's "Your Very Best" Contest - February 2011
Categories:
fangled, funnyhorse,
Form:
Rhyme
"Poppycock and hooey indeed,"
Said the man of the new machine ran by steam
"It shall never catch on,
Even after I'm gone."
Sobering words by the first train casualty.
Categories:
fangled, funny,
Form:
Limerick
Sometimes I often wonder
What if I wasn't me?
If I could be anything else
What would I wanna be?
Maybe I'd be a garden gnome
And protect those beautiful flowers
Or maybe I'd be a rain cloud
That brought those april showers
What about a tree so tall
It could almost reach the sky
Or maybe I'd be an eagle
To know how it feels to fly
I could even be a doughnut hole
To see where they go when they're missin'
Or maybe Angelina Jolie's lips
The one's that were made for kissin'
And what about a color Tv
No, I don't like it when people stare
Maybe I'd be a leather jacket
For somebody cool to wear
Maybe I'd be something famous
Like some kinda new fangled disease
Or maybe I'll be a champion K9
No, just way too many fleas
Well I guess that's enough of that
Cause now I'm getting tired of traveling
See, this is the kind of poem that you write
When you see your whole life unraveling
Categories:
fangled, funny
Form:
Rhyme
Winnipeg
Every day you drive down my street, through my neighborhood, anticipating the day we'll infinitely meet
I tried to ignore the feelings I've felt since the moment I walked into your convenient store but it ever holds the creative precipice of something more
You stood less than a foot away while I unconsciously held my nervous breath
You were holding yours too
If only we knew
But now we do
The truth isn't always true
Nor is it free for you or me
The wind blew
Scholastics were very few
Punished for an era that never grew
Her encyclopedias aren't new
Faux dictionaries are the fiction of the past in belated mantras that had to last
Even the fire burns out before it realizes why it was lit
The fireplace watches faithfully as grandpa snores & grandma knits
Mom & dad don't babysit when their tireless infants throw a raging fit, left to wonder where they misplaced a generations first aid kit
Burned their fingers when they forget the oven mitt
We've been there
We've done that
Old news is tucked neatly into older hats
Bootlegs
Winnipeg
Old age is something you earn for the sake of the wisdom you asked to learn
Flowers and trees
Bushes and leaves
The oldest trick in forbidden words still suffers the plot it deceives
Forgotten?
Never
Hidden?
As rightfully as its bidden
Good ole darling ridden
You see the warrior emerging from shame
You see the fighter with nothing left to blame
I still don't even know your last name
But I thank God for you every day because this isn't some highschool football game
There are no players
No more cheerleaders to haunt the jocks in old dressing rooms across the parking lot
They found his body on the rocks bound to a body bag stitched up with old rags, tied with dog tags because some still remember the night they were shot for every secret they carelessly forgot
Pierce her scarlet letter with new fangled knots until she morphs into something better
Take your orders
Draw the margin around the recycle bin's borders
You know exactly what it takes to win
Your folly may never be another man's sin
Dolphins eyelashes seduce that grin from fin to friendly fin
My love, please let me in
© Sarah Herring
Categories:
fangled, allegory, boyfriend, corruption, desire,
Form:
Free verse