Best Flexes Poems
Silent, she slips from her stronghold’s security,
safely tucked high on the cliff in her nest.
Cautious, she stays in the shadows afforded her,
sorrowful, hesitant, missing the rest.
Her parents and siblings had sought out the sunshine,
flying the open air, learning their craft.
Soaring and diving, they basked in the currents;
she, feeling poorly, by chance, had stayed back.
Sounds like a cannon had rung out above her;
shrieking and screaming, she watched the first fall.
Caught in the open with no chance for cover,
savagely, swiftly, death came for them all.
Hugging the hillside, she used the thick foliage,
bobbing and weaving, avoiding the limbs,
calling on instincts she knew not inside her,
fine-tuned adjustments through flexes and trims.
Cover was ending; the ocean awaited her.
Her heart was racing, her mind strangely clear.
Mother had taught her to seek out the currents;
a warm water pocket meant updrafts were near.
Tucking, she dove as she flew in the open,
a bullet herself, towards shiny blue glass.
Braking so subtly, just at the last moment,
she shot across wave tops, dizzily fast.
There! A small change in the water beneath her.
Pulling up hard, she flapped skyward and soared.
Where she was headed lay unknown before her,
on past the sunset to some distant shore.
A horse that runs wild and free
Enjoys freedom with each stride
No saddle on his withers be
No grazing muzzle as a guide
No headpiece on his poll abides
His fetlock and his coronet feel the tickle of the grass
As his forelock ruffles in the breeze
No horseshoe on his hoof amass
With the wind he trots with ease
His gaskin flexes to run at his decree
His frog feels the soft earth as he stands
his coat feels the soothing rain
Unbridled by the bit's demand
His neighs echo through the plains
Upon these green fields, he reigns
His stifle and his hock aches once in awhile
But a good gallop 'neath the dome
of sky, brings him back in form and style
No crupper on his croup as he roams
For this horse calls freedom home.
~~~
10/4/16
*The crupper is the strap that runs from the horse's dock, over the croup, to the saddle.
Famished and flagging footsoldiers;
formerly fitters and farmers.
Facing fatigue, fitful fever,
faeces and foul, foetid fungi.
Fostering feelings, frustrated,
for this faraway, foreign field.
Forsaking fissures and furrows,
forced forwards with fleetness of foot.
Firearms flash and fragments fly far,
feigning the firmament aflame.
Fighting so fierce and ferocious,
fratricide set free on this field.
Fuelled by freedom, nay, falsehood;
for their fellows and friends, foremost.
Forays so fraught with fine failure,
fatally fettered from the first.
Forged by such fatuous fawners,
focus firmly fixed on this field.
Forfeiting furtive and fiendish,
fulfilment was falsely forecast.
Fate flexes her fickle fingers,
future’s foretold and foreshadowed.
Faustian favours forthcoming,
for folly to feud for a field.
Families of fine forefathers,
fought fiercely, for fear we’d forget.
Forthright and filial feelings,
forgo fun and frivolity.
Familiar flora forms focus,
for the fallen in Flanders Field.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
8 syallables on every line (www.howmanysyllables.com)
November 2018
(This is my original / extended version)
I wanted to do something special - and a bit different - to mark the centenary of the end of The Great War (11 November 1918). This poem is dedicated to all the brave souls lost defending freedom during that terrible conflict (and all conflicts since).
The old man sighed
Sitting on a rock next to a pond
Crookedly balancing Yin and Yang between his eyelashes
Conversing with the Lady of the pond
Jade eyes and un-wrinkled time
In Her beautiful face
Held in his hands
An old fishing rod
Bamboo
Bends and flexes with the times
It holds and catches even the biggest
Devils in the water
The lotus flowers embrace the jade tide
Soft-hearted water caressing unmovable rock
Trees bent in silent reflection
The ultimate knowledge, the Lady whispered
Lies between the murmur of the leaves
The laughter of the lotus
The bend in the trees
Listen! Listen!
These will outlast everything
He thought
I shall give knowledge to my sons
And teach them
Soul
The old man contemplated
The secession of his life
There is a time to hold on and a time
To let go
This time, his time
Is over, long gone with the Maiden on the Moon
Beckoning him home
He taught the young men
To bend with the rod
To bow to the spirits
To be one with God
To be forceful, to be soft
To listen and to speak
Wise Man’s words
And Foolish Man’s dreams
He told the Old Stories
He sang the Old Songs
Traditions and ancient verses
To light their path through life’s courses
And as each of his sons threw the rod on the ground
Frustrated with the old man’s ways
Outdated methods and foolish wishes
The heavens opened and unleashed
The ultimate Father’s Rage
The rain pounded on the once peaceful pond
Dismantling the flowers and smothering the land
With a wrathful urgency
Drowning the Lady in the lake
Her beautiful jade eyes never again to reflect philosophies
Hidden in the reeds
The lotuses closed onto themselves
Never again to give such a sweet smell
The old man sighed
It’s out of his hands now, it’s out of his hands now
And this,
This will outlast
Everything.
All the fingers wait
raised, spread
and the flexes start
the bends
the creeps and crawls
All the fruit laid before you
the knife cuts
uncovers concealed
scents and flesh
All the linen,
folded in crisp creases
your all-seeing eye
unwraps ruthlessly
one crumb grounded
in one corner
one drop of red
One snowflake carries
so many crystals
inifinitely perfect
They disappear
before you decide to dissect
they don't fear the sharp
but the time
it takes
to slice
***
July 18, 2017
Copyright © Darren White
I have a dear feathered friend who greets me each day at dawn!
He likes to dwell in and around the crab apple tree on my lawn!
From his perch he serenades me on wintry Colorado morns so drear,
Cheerily belting out trilling melodies that are so pleasing to my ear!
Oft I've wondered why Robbie Red Breast opts to winter here at all,
'Specially since all his friends flee these icy climes for Florida each fall!
While they bask in the warming sun enjoying cocktails of orange juice,
He prefers wintering here with me along with all its nippy abuse!
'Tis a wonder that the little creature can manage to survive,
Since there are no wiggly worms for him upon which to thrive!
Robbie doesn't worry - The Omnipotent Creator sees to his daily needs,
By providing an occasional hapless bug and a few wind-blown seeds!
I think that rascal relishes wakening me from my slumber each morn,
As he flexes his wings and sounds reveille to begin his daily bourne!
I'd rather be woken by him, tho', than the neighbor's yapping mutts!
'Tis certainly far more pleasant - of that there ain't no ifs, ands or buts!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
She’s stuffed and she’s mounted;
She’s up on a board.
This week, she’s discounted;
We’ll throw in a cord.
Her joints all work;
She flexes and bends.
Pretend that she’s surfing;
The fun never ends!
She’s Wi-Fi-enabled
And password-protected.
Her system updates
Are auto-detected.
And upgrade to Pro
For 995;
She never talked more
When she was alive.
So don’t waste
your dough
On a mausoleum.
You spend all
That cash
And nobody sees ‘em.
Don’t sit there, man, move it!
Get up off your can
Our agents are waiting
Get your Instagran.
Struggle
Let me see you resist
I have tied you naked
Taut between the line of bone and soft curve
I have done this
For my eyes to devour your beauty
And with a rampage tearing through my soul
My passion burns
To eat you, to touch you deep within
And be blessed I, by whimpers a soft supplicant moan
Struggle
Let me hear you cry out, let me feel those breathing gasps
As I taste the soft tender dew on your lips
And press to muscle and hard unyielding flesh
A grip for each sensuous and compliant contour
I shall take what is mine
Let me hear you refuse
Demure as your body flexes on the shackle
You ignite the blaze in my eye
And the blood in my veins
Struggle
And if I could I would force my mind to your thoughts
Hold every part of you to me
Complete, unflinching
Between body, rapine and surrender
All we are for this moment
Break me
And through the torrents release me
In a brutal tenderness
Curse me, foul mouthed and belligerent
Struggle
Quiver my lover in breathless tones
Cry to God, oh God! Oh-wa oh……! God!
Let this famished animal bare you away
Give up to me your subjugation
So naked, so exquisite, so heat of woman tied to my wall
So kneel now as I
Before these tumble bricks
These barriers, these bars, these fences of life
Let me hear you giggle in an exhausted sleep
A wisp of your hair left to………………
Struggle
Elderly man’s fishing net hangs in his shed
The fish he caught in his backyard stream multiply
Net use was banned; he couldn’t afford a pole
Joy and sustenance gone, a tear falls from his eye
House Bill 875 would ban backyard farms
Forcing vegetable growers to invest cash
In overpriced produce on supermarket shelves
Uncle Sam flexes his muscle, makes his whip lash
The right to freely worship is endangered
As prayer is prohibited in public schools
Government intrusion invades all our lives
Public pleas are not heard by those who make rules
Freedom to choose our doctors is now threatened
Socialized medicine diminishes choice
Speech censorship? Just ask the Smothers Brothers
Who canceled their own show with a stifled voice
As crime escalates, look to the constitution
The NRA spends billions to protect Americans' rights
To bear arms against oppressors while thieves laugh
And sue owners of homes invaded in the night
Can this be what our forefathers had in mind
When they sought to escape a king’s tyranny?
Our rights are being limited more each day
In a nation spawned to promote liberty
Natural disasters prelude Judgment Day
Eerie escalation – tsunamis, earthquakes
But perhaps when the dust finally settles
Those who survive will learn from our past mistakes
Governments will form only to preserve peace
Not to strip away rights ancestors pursued
Don’t blink! Precious freedoms are now endangered
By those who feel they’re elected to intrude
Her name is Jennyanydots,
of her species she is not quite certain;
Sometimes she acts just like a cat
such as when she's climbing the curtains.
At other times she seems convinced
that dog runs through her veins.
Like when she responds with alacrity
whenever she hears her name.
Jenny preys on creatures smaller than she
as any cat will do;
But then she trots right at my heels
Like any canine true.
She guards the house against all comers,
Any creature that draws breath;
She even chased a Pit Bull once
And scared it half to death.
Yet sometimes she purrs and arches her back
Much like any textbook cat
She flexes her claws and grooms herself
And pees all over my hats.
No, she's not quite sure just who she is
Or which species to call her own;
But that is why I love her so
And pay tribute with this poem.
I have been going over this text
But it is not the way my spirit flexes
I have something deep that my heart
Wants to reveal; it is not the common
Words that I used to share
Everything about it is so dear
It is the naked truth that is wrapped
Within me and the truth
That will set your spirit free
You have given me the words
That you want to hear that is
Contrary to what my heart wants to share
Reality is burning on my lips
And if I don’t get to speak my mind
I will have terrible fits
I have thought about it hard and long
And I really want to sing my heart felt song
Words that will unravel the truth
And words that will make your dream true
I will speak my mind and make this place
More livable for the human race
I know that you are not all happy with me
But I will have to face my own destiny
With fingers on my lips and money in
My pockets, I will tell you something
That you have never heard, and then you will
Know who is running the world.
I saw them standing on the hill with
Feathers flying above their head
And pride mingling in their beds
Their silence were felt throughout the room
But the flamboyant crowd on the other side
Deepens the courage that they have inside
And set the universe a blaze and the moment
Was filled with praise
Speak your mind and tell me what you see
Speak your mind while we wait for thee
Speak your mind and expose the living truth
Speak your mind and reminisce
the days of your youth,
I just want you to speak your
And escape from the wilderness inside
Just speak your mind
I've been caught in a web of lies
As filthy as that beast crawling;
Along each thread, I wonder how
It flexes; does a lie retain it's shape
After stretching to the limit?
Or does it snap and free the prey?
Look closely at the silk
Do you not see that all its ilk
Bears resemblance to the one nearby?
Just pluck at the string
And hear it ring
And listen to them mutter.
Sometimes the web of lies is spun
Not by many, but by one
The one that snags on the sticky thread;
And struggles, then the web is woven
You can't escape the tightened net
It only narrows when you push
Notice the geometry of the intricate web
A Devil's star; the molecules stab
Across the middle into an anvil
It reverberates; then entropy wipes out
The vibration you'll always hear and spout
Until the pincers go right past your chin
Form:
Mind Games
…”bottom of the ninth
………”two outs!!
…………………two on
…..three balls
……………two strikes”
“CRACK”
….”.a sinking line drive to left….
……….he moves cat-like across the grass
…………………the game
……………………………….the series….on the line
….chest aching
……….legs burning
…………………he dives……
…..reaching
…………..grasping
………………………..floating
……in the ultimate dream..
………hands caress the ball….
………..tumbling
………………….streaking grass staining his face
………rolling to a stop
…………………the crowd roaring”
…….he squints
…………………….flexes his glove
…………………………………………...hears the crack of the bat
John G. Lawless
11/20/2015
submitted to – Oil Paintings 4&5
sponsor – Eve Roper
There's a ripped, good looking guy...
gals, don't assume he's quite and shy!
Watch how he models:
he flexes his muscles...
winking at ladies strolling by!
Every time the warm sunshine
Breaks through the leaden grey
It shines upon her delicate wings
And there she does safely stay
Until, she flexes her fragile frame
And decides to be very brave,
Then her beauty is revealed
By the way she does behave.
She dances around, yet alone
Amongst blood- red poppy flowers
And makes, although unaware,
Smiles peep between the bowers,
For then it is that some mice
And other creatures small
Dare to show themselves
And watch her give her all.
So happy are they to see
Such a pleasant show
That they often visit those poppies
As she make their hearts aglow.