Best Freewheeling Poems
One September morn, Barry is born, one day a little man that society will chastises every day, poisoned with dour memories of a life passing, staggers habitually along life’s broad way, yet still, he believes an ardent player of this earthly cast.
the mould human kind
every one naked the same
circumstance fate plays
One September morn Larry is born not a volunteer, into this place, no developing embryo given a democratic choice, but oh the joy the accolades, freedom of youth rampart significant, carte blanche credit card.
silver spoon protrudes
freewheeling society
so much to tire of
An unknown purpose aided each step, for Barry with holdall and worldly baggage around his neck, whilst trying to escape societies goals and social orders, life’s hypocrisy filed against this frail oppressed old man, living with a menial existence inside prejudiced borders.
daunting are the nights
beneath a blanket of fog
soul destroying dawns
Here Larry the mellow fellow who toast, boast every night drunk with his host, cocaine his specialty, whilst trying to escape societies goals and social orders, now his empire has closed the high life exposed a hobo a bench a lamppost his only light.
Barry and Larry
mix for the first time at the...
crematorium.
Entered 2022 Poetry marathon Mile 20
sponsor Mark Toney 12/11/2022
written 2021
Whilst shrouded in dark dungeons of deep despair,
in monk mode, soul choosing therein to be still,
plunges deeper into the void, as a dare,
feeling, not thinking, surrendering its will,
astonished to see light flicker through the air,
even as bliss magnetism begins to trill.
As wafting scents sublime suffuse feeble form,
pristine presence is swept away in love’s storm.
Slow seduction, concealing and revealing,
joy of union and pang of separation,
a joy ride through time, delight so appealing,
game divine of polarity rotation,
reviving resplendent rapture freewheeling,
is what but God with us in conversation?
Breathe in, oh hermit, each life breath in surprise,
in childlike wonderment, beholding bliss rise.
Lula Pickering
1887 – 1906
Have you seen my bluebirds today?
Have you fed them a few crumbs of stale rye bread?
I must have taken a hundred walks as a young girl
In search of my freewheeling friends.
And with only my slender shadow at my side,
I recited a million silent invocations to my Lord.
I greeted the noon tide on those many happy occasions
As if in flight myself.
And my only friends,
Regaled in flying blazing blue,
Flew with me to fantastic heights
And I kissed the rising sun a hundred times
But received not even a smiling sigh in return.
And it was in Black Canyon
That I discovered the one true answer to my only question in life.
I discovered that love is a clinging cloud
That arrives and sometimes lingers.
Or it is a cloud that moves on quickly
Like a late train to Los Angeles in 1904
Leaving only a faint wisp of windy dust in its wake.
Roscoe Settle was that cloud;
A cloud at once full of light and rare beauty.
A cloud that stood still and refused to wink or budge.
But I gave Roscoe Settle my pursed lips
And like a silly infatuated fool
I gave him the hidden treasure within my bosom.
God knows that I pleaded and begged like a panhandling maniac
For my handsome boy to stay.
To stay forever with me in this town of sensational sunsets
And of soaring spiraling bluebirds
In search of a lonely jilted girl
Who now walks as an ethereal restless ghost
Amongst the crosses and stone lilacs of this dead land.
Only my parents knew of my untimely demise.
Only the sheriff and Mr. White knew that I took my own life.
And that I ended my life over Roscoe Settle.
I found the old rope in my father’s barn
And the last thing I remember
Was the quick snap of the rope
And of my soft svelte neck
As I threw myself,
Noosed and sad
From my father’s hay loft
On a moonless August evening.
My daddy—he once told me
don’t ever play with nuns
they’ll hit you with their rulers
it won’t be any fun
I snuck out of that prison
and now I’m on the run
Once freed from that schoolhouse
I sunbathed in the sun
I stayed out late, I went on dates
looking out for number-one
When I think of what I went through
of all the tired repressive lies
I keep running wise, in slick disguise
my purpose is renewed
Don’t ever let ‘em tell you
you can’t have any fun
If they preach that hackneyed drivel
grab some things and run
.
.
Songs for this:
Cold Heart (PNAU Remix) by Elton John & Dua Lipa
I'm Still Standing by Elton John
Webster: hackneyed = uninteresting, unfun, dull and unoriginal.
*stolen almost directly, in spirit anyway, from that freewheeling rebel, Johnny Cash
**My first 8 years of school were parochial
FLESHLY MAN TORMENTED HURT JESUS DIED FOR YOU AND ME AND THIS---
The problem with man is he’s self-centered;
Grief ridden fleshly being tormented;
Oh! And how can one be so misentered;
Ever divides his mind demented;
Coping spirit receiving sad feelings;
Off and on religious deity screams;
Oh! And how can one be so freewheeling;
Ever divides his mind disesteems;
Oh! And I love the thought of Christ in us;
Holy Spirit parades in my soul being;
Being tormented fleshly ridden puss;
Dominant music passes my own being;
Deity religious screams on and off;
Is this why Jesus had died on the cross?
12/18/18
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. ©2018
Art
is
the mind
unfettered-
in colour and space.
Ekphrasis Paraphrase after Robert Motherwell's words.
"Under the amber sun's warmth seagulls squawk embraced in the freewheeling
briny breeze and hum of the ocean's bosom." Quote by poet
Sun ember warm light dances
a brilliantly choreographed waltz
rhythm upon the sapphire surface
an erratic glitter to a world beneath
a vessel of such mysteries that rises.
Ocean churn by the wind and waves
open in its abyss always in motion
diving into the cool dispassionate within
brackish water and its marine life.
3/25/2023
Writing Challenge - 'O' Words Poetry 2. Ocean
Contest Sponsored by: Constance La France
Bizarre Man
I’m the bizarre man. I like to sleep in a river. I love the feeling of water flowing round my sleeping face. Don’t worry, I won’t drown. I can breathe underwater like a fish.
On my back is an upside down push bike. It belonged to the landlord of the Dog and Duck pub. I stole it along with his orange chequered brolly. The bike is a 1928 model worth sixteen grand.
It’s not for sale.
The wheels move in the wind, freewheeling. I keep my other clothes dry in an orange case that belonged to a copper. I liberated it from his car. No need for spare cuffs, CS gas, stun gun, bondage gear. I don’t wash my clothes. The running water cleans them. My yellow Fred Perry shirt has never looked fresher. And my PVC jeans are jet black gothic.
Do you think I’m bizarre?
MULTIPLICITY
a
combined
innocence
something
beautiful
oft traumatic
yet
figurative
to
represent
a
freewheeling
spirit
charmingly
gentle
yet
with
an unworldly
quality
collides
to portend
in
the blatant
isolation
a thesis
drifting
a happening
reaping
benefits
a
setting
continued
throughout
then
evaporated
That amber liquid far from insipid
Like molten honey but drawn from a tap,
Bitter or dark, the choices quite stark,
God's malted ale, nature's true sap.
Vikings grew strong, strengthened their bond,
Giving them courage for mayhem galore,
A beer in their hand, they pillaged the land
Never quite feeling tired or sore.
The Celts used for curing, Egyptians for luring
Their gods from the heavens bribed to partake,
The English just drank as their water so stank,
Beer their solution to gulp for life's sake.
Wine lovers admit that their glass needs
be sipped
While describing aromas of berries and earth,
No such constraint, nor need for restraint
For drinkers of ale are freewheeling from birth.
So let raise a jug or a frothy filled mug
While watching a game and eating junk food,
Nothing is wetter, more luscious and better
Than a cold tasty beer when expertly brewed.
POETICS in PROGRESS
a discourse we don
ornamted speech
eloquent oratory aloud
seminal ideas
in pillars of poetics
a dialogue delivered
feelings aroused
from slumber
by symmetries of sequences
soliloquised
persuasion intertwined in poesy
perceptions personified
arrayed&adorned
in audible orations
of
experimental sound&
sense
freewheeling
sensable
becoming sententious
loose language codified
yet
open ended
figures of speech
of arrested moments
denotative&
syntactical of
preliterate tradition
solo
but
not self conscious
or
self orientated
words freed
to float & hover&
find a home
a random place to rest
a refuge for letter
sound-images
to
stimulate a reply
Streaming like the rain outside
The windscreen wipers working like
My heart and chopping onions stuff
A testament to will the good of another
The kids are in the back and can't see what's going on
Soaring, tumbling, freewheeling in the driving seat
I think of my wife and when we first met
She was always running late
As I was shoegazing on the corner
I needed a parrot sidekick
High on Belgian waffles and coffee
A hip new sensibility
The dash cam records the journey
Join me on my magic carpet
Grant me three wishes
Give me some tassel
In the Maghreb
I'll be your magic lamp
In order to reveal myself
Let's pick out curtains
Time Passes Slowly
Bobby Dylan said
When I was young and I
sought to conquer
my own Everest
I suppose he was right
But then,as time passed ,
And the conquering of Everest
became a daily fight
I realized with a fright
When Bobby Dylan said that,
He himself was still young
And now at seventy plus
I am sure
Bobby will agree
Time actually moved so fast
Today, i still endeavour
to conquer my own Everest
I realize now that I overtook
my own youth
And I am freewheeling to my
old age
Time oh precious commodity
Full of humor and irony
Why else would you only pass
slow to the youthful and
young?
I can't write like Bobby Dylan
nor a song like him can I sing
But if I could
I would
place this lament
before his door
Time flies and that's for sure
bemusement
mismatched
in a backward glance
the worst if times
demystified
in transition
s focal point
magnified in spritual images
perceptions of sincerity
of
freewheeling precepts
uniquely
connected
then
apopriated
in
glimpses of the beyond
once conflicted
now
embraced
a discourse
ornamted speech
eloquent oratory aloud
seminal ideas
in pillars of poetics
a dialogue delivered
feelings aroused
from slumber
by symmetries of sequences
soliloquised
persuasion intertwined in poesy
perceptions personified
arrayed&adorned
in audible orations
of
experimental sound&
sense
freewheeling
sensable
becoming sententious
loose language codified
yet
open ended
figures of speech
of arrested moments
denotative&
syntactical of
preliterate tradition
solo
but
not self conscious
or
self orientated
words freed
to float & hover&
find a home
a random place to rest
a refuge for letter
sound-images
to
stimulate a reply