Best Feebly Poems
Time! Those minute and
Angular grains...
Wherein, subscribed to
Each hypothesized increment
Forever,
All supposedly contain
A singular ticking second from yet
Just another incumbent
Universe:-
Man's futile attempt to try and
Feebly explain
That which only the
Great Unmovable-Mover
Can truly measure!
Standing at the plate there is no doubt
The pitcher is determined to strike me out
He squints to see the catcher's glove
Then spins and swings his arms above
The ball scorches a path across the plate
I feebly swing six days too late
The umpire acts like he's having fun
When he bellowed out, "STRIKE ONE!"
Again the pitcher stares at the dish
While I silently make a wish
Not a big request at all
I only want to hit the ball
The pitcher rears back and throws a curve
The ball starts over there and then begins to swerve
I miss so badly I hit the ground
I can hear people laughing all the way back in town
The umpire is having a belly laugh too
As he holds up two fingers and shouts, "STRIKE TWO!"
The pitcher is doing a cocky dance
While behind the mound hiking up his pants
He looks smug and I hear the catcher say,
"Give it up boy, he's putting you away."
The pitcher shakes off signs 1,2,3
He's saving a special pitch just for me
He peeks out over the top of his glove
I can tell that this strikeout he already loves
He winds up like a crazy corkscrew
Slinging a pitch he has never threw
I close my eyes and jerk the bat
Somehow the bat finds where the ball is at
The crack was the loudest ever heard
Nowhere in this stadium can you hear a word
You can hear a pin drop in this place
Nary a smile on any face
You would think that ball was launched into outer space
But alas, it is just a dribbler to first base
I feel I should get out of town
When I saw the other team high-fiving on the mound
Dad said, "Don't worry son, we'll get them next time champ."
After all it was just my first bat at Little League camp!
Yesterday when I stood before him, he spoke my name
Today, I still stand, but the floorboards are cold
and he no longer knows the color of my eyes.
With each spoonful of the steaming grey I lift my arms,
Up, then down, again and again, a repeated motion – weeping,
My arms are trembling with the weight of the spoon
that holds in its cupped womb my raw, injured soul.
Father, I say, in a voice cold from straining not to break
I prod away the soup dribbling down his chin, gently.
The wrinkled hands are limp at his sides, lost.
What should be mad and free is caged within me; fluttering
feebly, thumping about in a circle of broken pieces
The look in his blank eyes has labeled me a stranger
But when they are closed my name is written on his face.
A contracted seafarer...concerning no servile rank,
kept e'er involved watch...away from menial daily tasks top deck,
while steadfast wary of...the diligent taskmaster's whip.
A dawn swift gust...brushes the ship from a rocky pillar,
duly rallies from rest...aids calamitous bellows from crow's nest,
witnessed by crew...rose an angel disguised with devil horns.
Seawater laps feverishly...against ship's wooden hull,
as panic over breed minds...once sturdy legs go feebly about,
cascading thoughts grips privately...every man for himself.
Another abrupt action...frees a churning sea expounds,
and an opening hole...devouring anything within its midst,
as desperation consumes...a ship has long met its doom.
A lone selfless soul of limited else...moved past the lost,
and hastily clutched a burdened javelin...and hoist it upwards,
with his petitioned combined strength...released the deadly blow.
Her dying scream...was drowned out by restored happy voices,
and a wealth of well-wishes and praises...honoring accolades,
as lone eyes of a humble sort...gaze a siphoning pass.
I am a poor tailless cow.
The creator chases away my infesting flies.
I’m clotheless at the prime of the hamarttan
and my only blanket is my feebly tanned skin.
I’m barefoot on the pathful of thorns
and my teardrops reports my miseries to the earth.
I need love and in the midst of mates I go.
I’m trashed with the most painful looks,
and punched with the heaviest words.
My only crony thus remains my mischance.
Every right I’m denied.
And too bitter is my plea to the ears
of the unobliging heads.
My merit is always belittled,
and my promising tomorrow begrudged.
For every good I’m worth I’m sidelined—
that’s why I grow wild!
My fierce eye devoid of their leniency!
My ambition is rent into fragments—
that’s why I bust back so hard!
And in the end I’m felled,
taking my poetic justice.
And still some nights you touch my dreams,
though all is done and past, it seems.
Yet, out of nothing– sheer surprise...
I wither when I see your eyes,
and all that I'd thought gone at last
assaults me, as if I had asked
to visit anguish once again,
return to how I suffered then.
And still you slip behind the veil
of sleep, a realm that's soft and frail,
and tangle into all that went
away, a grief that's through and spent.
And yet how fresh it seems from there,
that darkened place. So unaware
the sleeping heart, so feebly cast—
in dreams is bound to all that's past.
I stand trembling,
Writhing in apprehension
When I hear you sigh through your teeth
As you rush past me
Bubbling now,
My stomach swirls
My spine warms me with shivers
And my heart wants desperately to lift
The further you go,
The more every part of me sinks
I nibble my lip to fight the tears
To wrestle the heat in my cheeks
To resist releasing the boiling bile inside
Then, you return
From the corner of my eye, you draw near
I waver whether to wait or go
Then, you happen
You are there, and absolutely nothing
Makes sense
The sun is raging
The room is blurry
You stand there, shockingly clear
Uttering quick your nervous words
Eons pass in a second
And I am still standing there, ancient as dust
Feebly, frantically, I reply, but you…
You have already disappeared…
The bold doors closing,
No uncertainty in their arctic shut
The release thereafter is beyond
Torturous
I feel no relief
Only despairing resolve
Iguanas are falling from trees in Florida due to the cold weather. They are not dead, just very cold and they become immobile. I got this title from one television personality who called herself the Lizard Queen and who says she would be a lizard if she could. Reminds me of someone we on the Soup all know and love who presents many whimsical poems on nature and animals. This one is dedicated to Caren Krutsinger!
THE LIZARD QUEEN
Cold-blooded scales, fiery-hot, languishing,
As she dreamily falls harnessing the icy wind.
Dropping she recalls, and smiles feebly,
That she alone sits on the throne, this Lizard Queen.
All hail the pounding iguanas pummeling around her.
She’s not alone, this Queen who’s falling in the tropics.
Not all warm and cuddly but absolutely charming,
She meets her end for now - but not forever, subjects!
She will return and kick up scaley wonder, the living color
Of her world, kaleidoscopic and subject to her whim,
This Lizard Queen with slithering tongue, paintbrush in hand.
Yet she’s no match for the tropical blizzard demanding her attention.
1/22/2020
You scorched my heart.
In small corners laughter lives
light phrases that dance through
dark
places
illuminated
candles
oh how
you shake
foundations,
feebly protected
Your voice dances through
my dazed thoughts
hazed vision, with your eyes:
glimmers
mischievous
marbles
bicoloured
forever etched
amid little wrinkles, silvery spun
in a web of evermoving mystery
The tips of my fingers know
your skin ticklish giggled
Oh how you stamped
small
imprinted
signatures,
everywhere
permanently
***
May 17, 2017
6th place in contest: Right here in my Heart
Sponsor: Mystic Rose
*Image of Hallmark Channel by Giphy.
Chimed Upper Room
Chimed new day shines...eagerly corrects an upper room looks,
An attic improving rapidly...promotes roams of diligence,
Lacks found bordered leathered album...trapped topped a cornered desk.
Cutting edge mounts an Everest...Grand Canyon grooves a pass,
Emptying a corridor...grants patience traces of sweat caught brow,
Weighty whatnots slothfully shift...relief of prized treasure.
Lives confined--stilled in a photograph...bound neath grained-hewn film,
Reviving breaths aids wiping palms...adjusting dust rules idle air,
Widen pupil's gaze...proffers freedom to locked memories.
A leisurely dance of fingers...entertaining a page,
Courses from staging consequences...flips driftingly e'er so oft,
Cherished persevered poignant times...plus occasional laughs.
Age feebly trades a gentle glance...to sights of swept-up youth,
Niagara Falls revisit eyes...interlude recalls Wordsworth,
Rousseau swells the lulls...till Longfellow's maiden turns a page.
A soothing thoroughness applied...o'er sovereignty once claimed,
Delighting a soul wanting remembrance...effervescence inched rise,
Bestilled processing images...icons pageants the heart.
Strokes into yesterdays...fulfill a distant emptiness,
Once existed in certainty...consequently in dreams of need,
Now physically held...persuades rising tips of a mouth.
2020 July 30
*2nd Place*
Dusty Old Memories
~~Constance La France: Judged 2020 August 06
The sun set low
And my heart split asunder
The wind blew hard with traces of slow
Darkness spread around and pierced deep under
My blooming valley of roses
Causing them to wrinkle and writher
Poison seeped through my immaterial illusionary world
And caused my heaven a devastating destruction
Smithereens of cutting glass started flowing in my blood
Caused me to shed tears, which made my imaginary world flood
The night seemed eternal, the silence so bloody
Chilled my nerves with horror so relentlessly
Stung my heart with so horrible notions
O how I wished I could lose myself in a twirling motion
With sight and tears, my head rested to a weak slumber
Jerked awake the next morn with a head struck with thunder
The tears so mercilessly had intervened with my peace connection
To stay serene for the next few hours was something beyond imagination
O how I dearly desired the whole ordeal was just a wicked dream
But reality chases one even in a protective realm
Ambled I feebly with a heart soaked in dolor
To a room which I considered my treasure trove
Where I had hatched all my sunny memories and flourished in their fragrance
Where flowed swiftly my memory river with steadiness
With broken sighs and a distressed heart
I set forth to design a beautiful card
But relinquished my work before it was accomplished
Well aware I was that fate would not have it acknowledged
With uncontrollable emotions and a heart filled with desperation
Broke off into a million tears which filled my sea of emotions
With withered reminiscences and scattered notions
How I wept! With great pain I sobbed
As if of worthy fortunes someone had me robbed
My plight seemed everlasting, my love ever flowing
Through the misty valleys where there was no hope of blooming
Into long cherished dreams and sentimental illusions
If it was God’s ordained Will, then there was no solution
Except to bear the whole trial with forbearance
But I failed to practise that, and made undesired interference
In matters where things were already so bleak
But I ensured that my next few months were doomed to make me weak
That’s another story, I desire to abandon it for now
Sometimes later, so farewell for now
A cup to mask the Emptiness:
Escaping from my head
Chained by indifference--
My ears concede to their demons
This desire is all-consuming:
Enveloping my defenseless thoughts
Indulged in the silence:
Deception is my biggest fan
My brain gets burned, like cigarettes--
At a party, with Apathy and all our friends
I drift, through feebly-willed-thoughts
Re-opening a secret trail to Regret
I allure begotten destruction
Searching for Death's cousin
If I wake up in the morning--
I'll play Russian Roulette that night...
PROLOGUE
Umpteen billion years
Big Bang, supernova, gas
Brief eclipse of time
Gases swirling, fall
Sun and planets, water, goo
Brief eclipse of time
Another billion
life, amoeba, fishes swim
Brief eclipse of time
Movement, change and flux
slither, crawl, climb, walk and talk
Brief eclipse of time
Ra, Sol, Helios,
Mithra and the Mighty Eye
Brief eclipse of time
Life begins and ends
birth, joy, laugh, cry, death, and dust
Brief eclipse of time
Waves cleave seas, shores, skies
forever folding, pulsing
Brief eclipse of time
CHRONICLE
The Mighty Eye begins to slip and slowly sink,
(unfocused, stained, diffuse)
while frizzled waves imbibe her searing tears,
with salted languid lips.
The Mighty Eye, now weary, thin,
is gazing through the frozen cracks,
as sundry straying clouds,
bloated,
sidle feebly by
and wax their billowed tracks
upon the heated sky,
and cool the rush of rolling waves
beneath the blotted sky.
The waves
(impaled on time and space inside me),
gently tumbling aging pebbles
and lifeless shells across the shifting sands,
seem unaware
as they once again arise
to greet the Mighty Eye,
to close the Mighty Eye,
to snuff the Mighty Eye.
But then again,
perhaps the waves are well aware indeed,
yet simply unconcerned
and feel no need to care.
For, as the frazzled froth is rushing forward
madly towards the sandy shores beyond,
before retreating slowly,
then careening brashly forth ahead again,
eternally,
it matters little if the Mighty Eye will cast
her blazing glance from high above,
or else retire for the night,
kissed sweetly by the liquid lips
of distant faithless waves
in a brief eclipse of time.
Continued in Part 2
The leer at-
the anointment,
a cruise controlled gear-
gets no appointment,
the gruesome task is
to trust the element-
scarce-
or even just feebly miscalculated,
as another was given the equality one was torn out of the page book,
a traveler,
an infector.
The spectral glow of a lantern bobbing
As if tossed upon a stormy sea
Appearing..then fading anon, absorbed
In foggy essence, to fade again so feebly
Once more, ere sinking in finality
Into the quicksand of mist
Mere glow of candle, so dear to see
Seen now…then not,…with capricious twist
The spectral light, drifts through the night
As a ghost through fog and mist
Through ribs of rain, the tremulous light
Chills the brain, befogs the sight
Dimly lit, by lanterns in the mist
Dark clouds upon the soul this night
Fog is the dark abode of lost souls
Who wander without rest with lantern high
The mist, the breath, of hollow death
The fog, the food , on which to subsist
Tis best my friend, not to be, nor ne’r to see….
The glow in the fog and mist
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