Best Feeble Poems
In the midst of midnight croon
laden with stars, the sky bends
refracting light into a spectrum
of drifting colour mystique blithe.
Beauteous in a wilderness
amid the feeble dimness
of old mossy leafless boughs;
owls and other creatures rouse
into emptiness of the night.
They step out of the shadows
beneath the old resting maple,
flickering candlelight in hand,
and fall to their knees on soften
crackle of dry leaves; a trifle eerie.
A sudden gust of wind, a chill,
reap and thresh, a tortured flesh,
kneeling in credence with mournful din.
Penance will never end for sin
in the dark hour struggle and shame.
11/29/2019
You wish to reach the deepest parts of me
To lure the abandoned child from her eternal sleep
To protect my shrouded frailty and soothe the storm within
But through no fault of my own, I could never truly let you in
You will underestimate my devotion, and burden my heart
Shatter my delicate trust, and at your hands, I'll surely fall apart
It would be wise for me to forget
Your eyes, your arms, your lips upon my neck
The heart knows no rationale, unlike the mind
But it holds the answers that logic unceasingly struggles to find
It's in my nature, it has always been my way
To seek comfort in solitary darkness, I find no refuge in the light of day
In my earliest years I discovered that no matter which love I chose
Far too many thorns mar a single rose
I
blossom
and
brighten
up your day
with a
smile,
dazzling.
I sway, sway
gently to your
soul's sweet song.
Dewy
cheeks
fresh, smooth,
scent pristine
cheer you -
but
you crush
me!
Date: 06/14/2021
For Kim Merryman's Waltz Wave Poetry Contest
In alternating bad attempts;
To reach a puddle of regret.
A bathing suit of scales he weighs;
His mouth a circle of dismay.
Flip flop he fumbles back and forth;
A feeble wish he will retort.
A final honourable sway;
A gulping down of water may,
Entice a drama too excite,
Enough to one more time ignite,
A jerk of flesh, elliptic course;
Too infantile to sense remorse.
To land within a puddles’ shallow;
Missed the creek, forget the paddle.
27 February 2010
His body alike a limp vegetable
Unable to speak and can’t even crawl
His age maybe 3 or 4, I’m not sure
His worst condition they tried to inure
A single room upstairs facing huge trees
Wind swayed the leaves as circadian circuitry
A half vertical block fixed at the doorstep
Unthinkable to pass through by a limp’s creep
One morning, the limp boy is left all alone
At a higher level with bounded zones
To leap on door block and stairs steps wide gap
A little chance to move through is a hap
Maybe a godsend or a grotesque sprite
A paramour of the innocent feeble child
Who wants to show the other world expanse
Or invite him to their kingdom to prance
My heedless passing by to their place
Forbade the unknown and left him at the foot of the staircase
I run toward him, lying on the floor, and seemed all right
I looked around but no one else at the sight
The dark eerie fog and glowing gaslights. She sits woefully. He is gone again tonight. Rumors whispers of the terror, as she holds on once again. Murder by night and a stirring muffin man. The dark old Victorian house creaks with fear. A young lover grasps her pillow, shedding her tear. Not far from Drury Lane and not far from the insane. He has returned unnoticed and is the worker of the house. He needs his rest, so She softly walks like a timid mouse. She tries to share but he doesn’t care.Your going mad woman. There is nothing there! Do you really know the muffin man or any man? Gone again, hehe, you can’t catch me.The nightly affair of terror returns, as her mind wonders. Some imagination are easily dismissed but the flickering gas light, just doesn’t not quit, like a beaconing omen of their love. She thinks to rekindle but there is a knock at the door The police have her battered husband. We caught him red-handed for sure. Fears within fears, fears without, and fear without a doubt. Fears come in and fears go out. Dawn screams in the rain, as she finally goes insane. - Based upon the abuse of gaslighting and actual murders in London.
Don’t say that, you better knock on wood
It’s bad to spread misfortune aloud, in front of others
Don’t you know any better? Karma and jinxing are real
Hey! And get off that crack, you’ll break your mama’s back
It’s not so bad to spread misfortune aloud, in front of others
For those who did wrong doing to me and my loved ones
Hey! I’m glad to see you’re standing on that crack.
By the way send your dear mother my sincerest regards
And for those who did wrong doing to me and my loved ones
You should lasso the words escaping your mouth
Send your dear mother my sincerest regards
Just tell her I said it must blow having a child like you
You should hog tie those words before they escape your mouth
Sticks and stones could break bones, words, well they just sting
It must blow for your mom having such a shitty child, sting!
Sorry for the news flash but nobody likes you
Sticks and stones will break your bones, words just tingle
Oh you didn’t know any better? Karma and Jinxing are real
News flash! The world is better off without the likes of you
That’s why you shouldn’t say that, did you knock on wood yet?
Fizzle....a balloon loses its size.
My heart bled and I lost my weight.
Like a rose crushed on a stone,
But up,I stand again!
Like a tree,I stand tall.
With the girding hands of my God.
He saw me and healed my wounds.
He took me and nourished me.
My tissues soon regained their fats,
And my bones,their strengths.
So,I said to myself,
"What can a man do without his God?"
"Of what worth is the body without a frame of bones?"
He saved me a second chance!
To make life worthwhile,
Because life is worth living.
December,2015.
Trumps Feeble, Limp, Rox... Zilch State Of Emergency
H.G. Wells..., ah...now there
without dark shadow of a doubt,
in my (myopic brown) eyes,
a prolific writer hooked hood accessorize
the English language, and captivated
populations, sans "The War Of
The Worlds" to realize,
with an assiduous presentation
convinced listeners, how
aliens did cannibalize
innocent Earthlings strictly via radio,
where rapt audience could actualize
"FAKE subjects" pretended to agonize,
yea of course after receiving
substance that did anesthetize
in an effort to minimize
potential melee erupting,
which feasible outburst,
could tinder, kindle, and antagonize
crowdsourcing masses,
who suddenly became repentant,
and sought to apologize
each to their personal deity, apprise
zing respective comportment, thus
the apprenticed faux presidential Don,
rather than agonize
over farcical shenanigans, where dissension
among rank ken file seems to arise,
could take page from said playbook
visiting storied aforementioned scribe,
whose spirit author might be able to authorize
and conjure creative satisfactory
acceptable non costly deterrent breadthwise
cuz, more anger will materialize,
particularly if monies summarily brutalize
for social services that benefit the 99%
myself and the missus included analogous to...baptize
with gentile invisible knifed incision
or if Semitic tolled uncivil lies,
asper emotional financial, mental...
painless process to circumcise
purportedly for best interests
of citizens at heart, but tummy
essentially acting counterclockwise
to the modus vivendi that underlies
the immigrant experience that peopled
United States Of America, who did colonize
at expense of rightful natives
scattered innocent tribes, whose demise
vis a vis any fact checker, would
clearly recognize as blatant lies!
I
am
lying
on my bed
Struggling with cold
It’s been a couple of days now
As if a decade have passed, but I am so adverse
06.26.16
If nature is as inevitable as change defines the weather
By same nature’s-fortune decree, my sins cannot define me
I am my Father’s fine-art, perfectly coated to the brim of His brush
As His life-force flow through me, as blood flows throughout my veins
I am as free as how a butterfly conquers the world of its own construction
No man can deceive his own heart for so long that it breaks itself-to-pieces
I’m my Father’s ship; I’m able to roam the sea, to discover the undiscoverable
And to walk the sandstorms of my desert-self, within the lightest-ness of spirit
I’m my Father’s son; I’m ready to hear His voice and to submit to His commands
I’m freedom itself riding the waves unto the end of all of the uncharted-probability
Where knowledge wears the mask of doubters, as to wisdom wears only of the truth
I choose grace for grace sake where truth comes only by the faith of a humbled-heart
So, this is my vessel; my mind is open for the words of God, craving for understanding
Wilbert Dela Cruz 6-12-16
Swallow me whole, forget my face
Stop walking so close, stay in your place
Call out my name, if u dare
don't come near me, try to just stare
Point behind my back, whisper slowly my name
Don't forget, pain is the fuel to my flame
Cup your hands, and hide your gossip
Be weary of the heart on my sleeve, please bite your lip
And when I look around, I know I will
and I see you alone, and standing still
please turn your back...it's the best thing to do
'cause you're a weakness...and I can't help but run straight to you!!!
All along
Life is like a candle in the wind
Encountering dangers sometimes
Life is fragile like a glass
Sometimes feeble and sickly
Life is like a messy rubbish dump
Sometimes uncertain and aimless
Life is like a sudden rain which comes like fate
Always unforcasted and helpless
Life is like a beggar
Always begging for more
Life is like a prayer
Sometimes with great expectations
However
Life can become an iron bar
Not easily bent, strong and firm
If you've a strong faith in god
Devious in my feeble step...
seeking some pure, fresh air
and lay under a shady, tall fir
with strong desire on my lip.
My forehead continues to drip,
not finding any soothing lair;
devious in my feeble step...
seeking some fresh, pure air.
God! halt the desperado's grip...
if he acts in fierce dispair,
resorting to the wildest temper
with his voice lashing like a whip!
Devious in my feeble step...
seeking some pure, fresh air.
I've been detached from anyone, and specially life,
merely trying to survive on feeble hope,
dangling from this rough and steep rock;
I look above and another view transforms my strife.
I tried to be that invincible hero, helping others
ignoring myself and, most times, my indispensable needs;
putting others first, if they were part of my family...
as the truthful words of the Gospels brought perfect clarity.
On my last days, I'm trying to survive on feeble hope,
wishing that they wouldn't forget me when silence surrounds me,
when every delightful memory will make my throat chocke;
comfort me and assure me that there'll be a serene place awaiting me.
At times, I was overtaken by anger, shouting to bring peace
to an incident of jealousy, or an act of mischievousness;
forgive me for my behavior, and you may have called me a square,
an almost senile old man...being ridiculed for his bad manner.
Now, your age is void of knowledge, of the wisdom I still seek,
perhaps your intentions are naive and harmless;
I understand how bizarre it can be when youth is at its highest peak:
disregarding wise words that can correct your whims.
In dire and discontent, I'm trying to survive on feeble hope,
and my mission is almost complete: from a prophesied birth...
to an unannounced death, unless everyone awakens and realizes my hurt;
but if my conscience is righteous and pure, wouldn't Heaven pull up my rope?