Best Fits And Starts Poems
I didn’t ask for help.
Yet someone heard
my inward crying voice
without a word.
“When the student is ready
a teacher will appear”
somehow it seems these teachers
pop up everywhere.
Their words were subtle
pointed darts
that caused me endless
fits, and starts.
There was no Hallelujah Chorus
no heraldry of trumpets din
just a presence in my life
every now and then.
I never asked for help
yet somehow they saw my need
and placed within my heart
an ever growing seed.
They cut the bindings loose
freed me from my tethers
drifted slowly through my life
without ruffling my feathers.
©8/10/2018
for New Rhyming Poems On Angels Poetry Contest
Out in the night
A wolf howls.
Dogs bark and coyotes chatter.
The birds are still;
Silence is their shroud.
Stars twinkle overhead.
Saturn turns and spins like a top.
Nothing is lost in that vast night
While owls hunt,
And bats dart like crooked bullets.
It is a portrait of calm
Predators of the night stalk for meat.
Ears and eyes for the night
Are on full alert.
Death awaits, giving life.
Earth's sustenance is full;
There is enough.
Nothing is wasted in this plan
Of grand nature's design.
Pain is for a moment,
Then life goes on.
The hunter and the hunted
Never sleep,
They only doze in fits and starts.
Soon a killer will be full.
Soon the nightly prey
Will be silent and torn.
There’s a part of you
I cannot see or touch.
In the dark, alone, I know
every curve of your body.
I could sculpt you from memory.
Each detail vivid in
my mind’s eye.
The baby nail on your baby toe.
This neck that takes to kissing.
I know the moment when your
hip becomes belly.
Just there.
But there’s a part of you I
cannot see or touch. Hidden, I want to
know it all the more.
Behind your eyes, inside
your heart, that essential
you, separate from this
fragile tissue hanging, draped, over bone.
I watch you move when
you’re not looking.
Standing, your toes curling.
Twisting the end of your hair while thinking.
Asleep, I know your breathing.
You hold the morning cup like a chalice.
Little lines around your eyes deepen sometimes.
These things are pieces of a whole I ache to know.
This elephant leg obscured by sightless eyes can
be anything. Groping blindly toward
the totality of you, revealed in fits and starts.
This life of mine no longer turned inward.
Every day I have new discoveries to make.
My memory is like an ill-tempered old car
that refuses to start
on cold, miserable mornings...
or sometimes stutters
and shudders to life
in fits and starts with rattling parts
Names and faces of those behind me
shrouded and clouded in thick exhaust fumes
'til memory resumes and smoke starts to clear
...oh, what was the year?
Then suddenly (without warning)
the engine revs high, and I start to fly
downhill fast, into the past
brakes not responding, gripping the wheel
too much to feel
that terrible fear- stuck in high gear...
Old trauma impacts like a car crash
re-living events that
don't always make sense
deadly debris and jumbled bits of trash
litter my head, feeling half-dead
confused, in a mild state of shock
Although a car is a useful thing-
sometimes it's safer to walk!
Our bodies, like machines, break down,
Their warranties expired,
So slowly we relinquish
Certain habits we’ve acquired.
The jog morphs into walking;
The glass of wine, a sip.
The dinners switch to “early birds”
At places not so hip.
The muscles and the joints get stiff;
We don’t move quite as fast.
A good night’s sleep is something
We remember from the past.
We visit doctors, hoping they
Can fix our aging parts
Which, with the help of meds, improve
But just in fits and starts.
Perhaps the future will include
A place that has displayed
Some younger versions of ourselves
So we can make a trade.
~ for JM Barrie ~
I’ll wait …
you know I will -
I’ll wait for you … here …
but not a single instant longer than
forever …
I’ll ply the marshmallow sky for
the breath of you
(that aging world will be the death of you)
pixie dust trailing like ribbons -
satin pink to tie your hair
the flaxen strands so
often fell between our kisses …
my wistful miss is the
sun and the sea and the moon!
beg, fly here soon
or this wondrous place will turn ice
no more paradise -
no more mermaids or Lilies or Tink
just think of the calamity!
empty house, empty tree … empty hearts -
fits and starts
and no mother for The Boyz
no crowing noise - no bang-a-rang
just chill pirates, the Jolly Roger
and a Hooky ol’ codger
with a tick-tock crocky tail and his
vengeance for a sail -
(he needs a hand, after all) …
oh girl, return you must
with just a wee bit of fairy dust
and a tall tale or more -
maybe two … or fifty-four
“Home Sweet Home” upon the door …
just point to the morning, on
two stars to starboard
(never larboard)
and find your home … your boy
your me, your Pan - no fat ol’ man …
for I shall be here
with the wind ‘neath my heels
sprite sprinkles in my hair
(wear no wrinkles - dont you dare!)
oh, your girly flavor -
like marzipan savor on my lips
soft, tangy sips that
leave me thirsty for swallows
such sweet numberless tomorrows
yes … I’ll wait …
your lad, so clever!
but not one moment past ever -
still, Wendy …
leave your window open
all the same …
just …
in case.
Original - Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden July 2, 2024
Rewrite:
I fell in love by fits and starts
We needed time to knit our hearts;
It was your eyes that cast the spell
The promise there I loved too well.
Those tender lips that beckoned me
Should have warned it's time to flee;
Your body's pledge, the promised prize
The hidden hopes concealed in lies.
The words you spoke that made me warm
Could also hurt and hatch a storm.
Love's rocky road runs hot and cold
And what we find may be fool's gold;
For now I know I'm not for you
As love of parts is never true.
*
One of the greatest pals that I have ever had,
Was a high school buddy and fellow grad!
He was renowned as the notorious class clown,
And his antics evoked from educators many a frown!
We had so many great times around Hagerstown!
'Twas hard to keep our youthful exuberance down,
As we raced up and down those tranquil streets,
Eluding frustrated cops on their nightly beats!
Often we double-dated with our sweethearts,
In my old '37 Ford that ran in fits and starts!
But our girlie friends didn't seem to mind,
As we cruised about with our arms entwined!
Upon graduation, in the Air Force I enlisted.
I asked him to enlist with me, but no he insisted!
In just a few years after we had parted,
The terrible conflict in Korea was started!
He answered the summons of his nation,
As others before him had met that obligation.
Mournful "Taps" was played over a hero's grave,
Alas, this time for beloved Jerry so gallant and brave!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
PFC Gerald V. McCoy was KIA, 23 Oct 1952, Triangle Hill, North Korea.
Entry for michael hornschurch's "Ode To A Friend" Contest
The day is brilliant with sunlight,
songbirds serenade the season,
maples sway to music of the spheres
melodies only they can hear.
Cabbage whites flutter and flit
above and about, everywhere;
A Lion’s tooth unaware it’s
a weed shares a bed with tulips.
Within this harmony of spheres
I too feel its rhapsodic pulse-
A lover of nature’s impulse
to capture this temporal scene
as I do now by fits and starts
with measured words and golden mean.
Three warriors strong, of fleeting
Foot, beset by columns of night’s
Thick soot, to waadi’s tears dried
Long and loud, waits deadly mine
With shrapnel’s shroud
Rocks as mailbox, scattered
Round,but no letters can be found,
One foot ignites, a flash of gas,
Sleeping soldier, foot of lass
Her mind now scattered, poems
And loves, the semblance of a
Tattered glove; by lovely
Face, old Troy was won, now lies
Shattered, in the sun
Wailing much and beating hearts,
Comrades gather, fits and starts,
Radio crackles, hoist at last,
To the copter, goes brave lass
Spirit visits mum and dad, brief
Young lover, surly, sad; Valhalla
Waits, brave angels’ girl; farewell
Banners, rise quick, unfurl
Written for Open Poetry Contest 11/7/15
I'm mystified by my unruly brain
while grasping for a word, I draw a blank
like ticker tape that moves in fits and starts
elusive phrases flicker in and out
and putting names with faces is a chore.
To place someone is hard as calculus
this mind, it calcifies as time goes by.
Can anybody recommend a tool
that scrapes away the crust of this decay?
I'll trade this mind for one that's fresh and new
but then I'd lose myself, I'll let things be
and keep my mind, and never mind the mess
it just takes time to get from "A to B".
Written on 5/26/2016
Silliness coupled with much humdrum
drains creative energy from the minds of children.
Bored kids, raised by televisions, make warped decisions.
Viewed daily by the hour, murder becomes ordinary.
The wild lunacy of far too many people
causes vulgarity to erupt at an early age.
Integrity is not taught by crude interjections.
Reality: kids mimic adults without perception.
Elegance is foreign; brutality, common.
In modern childhood decorum is misunderstood
as mere rules and likewise humility is worthless
Laxity reigns with sporadic parental harshness.
Today’s children have a mentality and morality
that would rattle our great-grandparents’ false teeth.
Our children are wiser than their peers of yesteryears,
re: street-smarts, fits and starts and body parts.
Douobting Thomas, the tom-est of tomfoolery,
Tomcat screeching at another moon.
What other metaphors can I make
For this most foul of fools?
Foolishness is one of my better attributes.
I'll take my heart over my head any day.
Intuition is, ex-officio, superior to intellect
And my heart is ahead of my head.
But catching up slowly my mental machinery
Sputters and spews and groans and moans
In fits and starts it wakes
Grudgingly grinding out impudent ideas.
And tries to rhyme with the times
And sync it's rhythm with the spheres
The orbs in their orbits proclaim their omnipotence
And my heart beats with their harmonies.
Chain rhyming scheme: aaba bbcb ccdc dddd
Iambic tetrameter: da-DUM-da-DUM-da-DUM-da-DUM
And Yet, Another
An errant wind ran dead in spring
lost lives chilling ain't no big thing
saints live across where river parts
just love of life freedom does bring
no spades facing just ace of hearts
a bro bought smokes payment imparts
store clerk alleged fake bill, and drunk
nine-one-one called, by fits and starts
flashlight taps car glass, clunk, then clunk
show hands gun drawn obeys, blue funk
from hooping his mouth foamed, not crazed
begs mom, as three pressed, his heart sunk
ignored pleas, time and time, sets phased
swarmed crowds sadly look on amazed
stagnant with no pulse, warning raised
shocked city and country soon fazed.
2021 April 12
We're all a mess,
Migrating towards the same cold spot.
I remember you through summer eyes,
Touching toes and tickling noses.
Yellow is the color of memory,
Shining bright in our die hard need to stay present.
What angles of the mind,
Tricks of the cerebellum.
Saw you on the swing of the pendulum
When we cared what we cared about.
Fits and starts and coughs and kisses.
Probing the mystery is all that's left.
Digging ditches in the Spanish squalor of rusted tin,
Instead of drinking coffee in the cafés of Berlin.