Best Gawkers Poems
I feel like a star
cast amongst this ambiguousness
of sky
and I'm hanging on
to vacant air
as all the saplings
and gawkers
slurp on lattes
and wish upon my misery
alas, when one of those whims
chooses to make itself
come true,
I'll shoot like a meteor
into nothing
but a tittle of dust
flickering
in someone else's dream
Categories:
gawkers, introspection, life, sad
Form:
Free verse
Life is plainly, totally, undeniably, unfair!
Looking in the mirror I screamed, “who stole most of my hair?”
I was never Rapunzel, a svelte heroine, locked in a tower,
But who dare turned me into Quasimoto’s twin, short and dower?
How can I go dancing with my silver amour, Sir Harry Walker?
Ghastly obscene ….they would heartily laugh and be gawkers.
But, I cannot lie, I desire to be out and have some wild hijinks.
Dressing in high boots, short skirts and you bet, lots of winks!
I am bored to death, with this “growing old gracefully” stuff!
It is dull and droll and far, far worse than chewing snuff.(yuck)
Alas, oh sorrowful me, I even failed the eye test at the DMV!
And yet, I can spot a handsome hunk,who is six foot three?
I even penned a steamy poem for this Christmas Eve!
I laughed so hard, I nearly slipped to the floor on my knees
There is great beauty and joy in growing old, many say??
I declare~plastic surgery, new hair and throw my walker away!
Dedicated to Deb M.. thank you so much!
You made me laugh today. You lightened my soul!
Many thanks, Pangie xxxxx
12/11/2024
Categories:
gawkers, dedication, fun, grandmother, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
He heard commotion, "Well Land O'Goshen!! Whatever could it be?
It stirred his notions, and came invading, to wake his fading dreams
As he raised his head, the dreaded clock had invaded peace instead
He dreaded rising, was compromising, while lying in his bed
The tick and tock, it would not stop, and sun had blocked his eyes
Shining in, there's, no denying, it was time for him to rise
He raised the shade, and saw a parade.. a throng was going by
Something wrong, long lines of folks, were joking till they cried
Laughing gawkers, down the block, were shocked, and also stunned
Poking fun, pointing fingers at his Uncle, on the run
Uncle Fred, underfed, lead the parade in red long-johns
In underwear, he had no cares...his Santa beard was long
And Auntie Fran, ran in panties, wearing bra and thong
On her head, a Santa Cap, a flapping gap, where clothes belonged!
Oh my heavens!! Such misbehavin', this day was starting wrong!
Upon the sidewalk, the jokes are starting. The folks are growing strong.
Snapping photos, shouting mottos, fame has found this pair
Clapping loudly, crowds are happy, toting cameras everywhere
Behind his uncle, (old with wrinkles), crews, were finding news
Auntie poses, picks a rose, then sticks her nose in view
TV news has quite a story, but not the gory kind
His relatives are night-time headlines, deadlines met on time
Who'd even dare, these dreadful folks to bare their hall of fame?
It is no joke, his drunk kinfolk have smeared his family name!!
_____________________________________________________
Alliteration, Assonance or Consonance Couplet Alphabet Contest
Sponsored by: Sheri Fresonke Harper 12//16/13
Categories:
gawkers, funny,
Form:
Couplet
Van Gogh's Yellow House
On the corner of a cobblestone street, a yellow house is located,
and nearby, there is a bistro to eat at and a café where friends meet,
which are illuminated by a sulphur sun under a cobalt sky.
A train barrels past the sunlit house of unfulfilled dreams
as I enter the building and grin as life passes me by,
because I can’t see the future for the tears in my eyes.
Through cracked-open green shutters, as reclusive as I can be,
I see gawkers with their arms outstretched and fingers pointing,
saying to each other, “Look up there, the painter’s crazy.”
My heart has grown cold and dry. Destiny has been mean to me.
And now, the police come to my door to force me to leave,
by decree of law, with a petition signed by the community.
Still, the scenery inspires me, and I can’t relinquish my painting.
With palette in hand, I mix red, green, blue, and yellow paints
and brush their hues, tints, tones, and shades on the canvas to create
“The Street” (with audience) on 2 Place Lamartine, Arles, France.
***
Note:
On May 1, 1888, Vincent van Gogh (1853–1890) rented four rooms in the Yellow House at 2 Place Lamartine, Arles, France, and lived there from September 1, 1888, to March 1889. Fellow artist Paul Gauguin (1848–1903) shared the house with Van Gogh from late October 1888 to December 1888. It was here that Vincent van Gogh painted many of his masterpieces.
Van Gogh was forced to leave the house in March 1889 when the police, acting on a petition signed by thirty townspeople claiming that Van Gogh was mad and a threat to the community, closed the house.
The house was severely damaged during an Allied bombing raid in World War II and later demolished.
Categories:
gawkers, art, history, perspective, tribute,
Form:
Ekphrasis
A man who was built like an horse
Was stunned by his recent divorce
His wife learned her knockers
Excited some gawkers
And all of them could stay the course!
Categories:
gawkers, humor,
Form:
Limerick
Pulsating honor doth corroded hearts impound
A blustery breeze echoes cries from each, preceding battleground
A recurring, eager parade of reporters, gawkers freely roam distant mound
Below, fatigued, tidy mass of steeled infantry; to death's throes bound
Neighing horses conditioned to mayhem the pageantry doth confound
On opposite ridges, mounted turrets prepared hell's fury to expound
On signal, a synchronized, concussive chorus doth its dark melody propound
Scraps of metal shards initiate; commencing another, toilsome round
After lengthy barrage, wits collected a more lethal volley to stound
Familiar, urgent order to charge christens hallowed ground
With youthful ardor a wide-eyed bugler doth the bridled expanse unbound
Shrieking rancor from recoiling rifles; a familiar anthem doth resound
Recurring cacophonous medley, weathered nerves drowned
Once more, a mass of flesh surges into the abyss with mortal hopes crowned
Anon, shattered limbs; gory wounds misery's cache compound
Categories:
gawkers, adventure, death, devotion,
Form:
Monorhyme
She was as sexy as sexy can be
Body undulating like the sea
Hips gyrating at the speed of sound
Billowing breasts holding gawkers spellbound
Legs as shapely as candy canes
Inviting as a decanter of fine champagne
Lips so enticing that some have said
Their natural hue was deep ruby red
So what she had three eyes, five ears and a tail
All and all, she was a real hot tamale
Just what you'd expect from a Picasso origina-le!
November 18, 2018
Entry in "Sexy Poetry" contest
Sponsor: Lewis Rayes
Categories:
gawkers, art, humorous, sexy,
Form:
Light Verse
What gallant form from vaunted perch doth alight
Leaving tailwind that unassuming gawkers affright
Whose tawny shadow the sun's rays doth blight;
Swarthy silhouette shading glint so erudite
Whose tan-welted oars the azure seas doth smite;
With swift strokes the ethereal waves doth unrequite
Whose beige shield occludes satin rampart's line of sight;
O'er satin folds his opaque image doth highlight
What spindling machine doth wind's billowy currents spite,
With each sweeping motion a cylinder doth ignite
What grainy visage doth earth's footstool beknight,
With majestic crown his diminutive subjects delight
What predator drone spreads its cerebral kite;
Soaring fowl, creeping ermine safe sanctuary to slight
Whose steely eyes sky's tenants doth frivolously indict;
His insatiable, rapacious appetite to expedite
Categories:
gawkers, angst, animal,
Form:
Rhyme
In brokered spaces hangs a clammy chill
That gawkers with heightened senses distill
With stealth, guile, avarice and pawned skill
Around unsuspecting celebs their viruses congeal
Intimate and carefree moments quarantined in a still
Tendered seconds stolen by each, maverick shill
Plundered with a ravenous, rapacious thrill
Each grainy visage paying the stalker's, truant bill
Malleable fodder placed in the public's, greedy til
Enhanced images on glossy folios to spill
Their frothing rumor mill with innuendo to swill
The public's license with more greed to instill
Anesthetizing emotive strains with wanton zeal
Categories:
gawkers, angst,
Form:
Rhyme
Hubris makes me wait
For something better
Which is all the poisonous tundra
That my mind can take today
So, let begin, the parade
Streaming displays
Traversing
Through crowded gawkers
Who sing and cling
To verses, euphonic notions
Of melodies and maladies
Only recognizable to an audience
Of unknown disparity, such as they
And where am I
Among the spectacular?
And what am I
Sans a vat of grilled confetti
Noshing tastelessness
A fine wine, mute of
Spirit, grape and love?
So I tell you
Hope not bore you
I am lathered
In luscious deep directive
Pleased and patient
Marinate do I on
Probable emphatic winds
Maybe delaying inevitability
Yet the flavor gains momentum
Pungency stings with fire
Latent explosions
Gathering steam for the journey
Ah, but to where
And with who
And will I know I'm there once arrived
Do signs filter the highways
Breathing life into the air
Do crumbs resemble putrid possibilities
Forming jagged lines that need
Hindsight to impose the vistas
Magnificent vistas
Thomas Kinkade-manufactured plastic vistas
With colors and images, vibrant like
Disney cartoons, Fiestaware and
Ethnic displays of solidarity
Though color will go and
I will follow
As each hue, speaking eloquently
To the rods and cones which make them so
Evokes my mind, my worth
My simple plan to live
To descend
In ways that
Most journeys
Lose themselves
In ways, I suppose
That many may be unable
To reconcile
Fallen by guile
At least temporarily
Until my essence
At ease and defined
In a fractured moment of humanity
Is found once again
At the destination
My point of departure.
(10/15/04)
Categories:
gawkers, character, introspection, journey, life,
Form:
Free verse
High above all the nonsense I see below,
Eyes plummet to you alone in its midst,
Surrounded by illogical thoughts with no substance,
Dreamers who make no plans without you there,
Still looking up to me on high pedestal built for you,
I spread the wings you gave me so long ago,
Gliding down now for closer view of valley grown understood misunderstandings,
Earth bound mirrors crowded by all reflection struck gawkers,
Rubber necking their way down freeways that surely will end.
Copyright © 2014 Robert William Gruhn - All Rights Reserved
"A poem to me is the essence of any thought,
Being built from its foundation into tower scraping sky.
It can fly like no other bird to places never seen,
Even spaceships can only dream of taking its place."
© 2014 Robert William Gruhn
Categories:
gawkers, philosophy, symbolism, wisdom, word
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
Tiger In A Mall Display
resignation
oh green eyed one?
lounging against bars
of clinical steel;
sanitized sawdust laps
against enormous paws.
faux velvet roping
red as blood
stays the many gawkers
from your gleaming fangs.
a presence greater than thunder
in the Sumatran mountains
colour clear, rich, black and orange
you glow in the imaginings
of popcorn munching
sodaswilling, screeching younglings
pointing most rudely
at your regal self.
ah…but in the jungle
they would be meat, a meal
to break your fast,
soothe your bellies hunger growls.
in the jungle,
you were monarch
flowing through sun dappled depths
silent, immortal.
oh noble lord
none of your kin,
not females,
milky mothers,
capricious kits,
nor sires
roam the wild
seven thousand years ago
you disappeared
leaving us in silence
and shame.
Categories:
gawkers, animal, tiger,
Form:
Free verse
Vivian, my eighty-years-seasoned neighbor, called Vi, is a mystery only to those who did not return her first cheerful “hi”.
She is an open-book person, ready to love and accept everyone. I met Vi the first day I was out in my yard building a rock garden, two days after moving in. She came roaring down my driveway in an older model of a car, something gray, with long seats. She stopped about a foot from me and got out. I turned and smiled, and so did she.
She was here to offer her son’s tractor services to me for free, tried to talk me into letting him come over here and mow down the trees and bushes that traveled along our mutual wire fence line from the road to the back forty. She called it a “mess”.
We love it like that, I told her. My husband in particular loved it because he is a natural guy, who enjoys sitting on the porch in his boxer shorts on a summer night, catching the breeze, without any gawkers.
But I kept that quiet.
She told me a funny story about catching her husband and his newest girlfriend at a motel. She waited until he paid, and they were walking to their room. Then she fell into step beside him and said “What are you doing, Eddie?” The girlfriend must have known who I was, she said, because she screamed and ran off.
I spent a lovely forty minutes or so politely laughing my head off at Vi’s funny stories. Then she asked again if they could mow the mess away. Which would have given them a clear view to our yard if they had a telescope, and I figured they did. In spite of her terrifically funny stories, I stood my ground.
Categories:
gawkers, funny,
Form:
Free verse
Life's a cruel stage
for the sensitive soul
who must suffer in whole,
the jeers and the babble
of an ignorant rabble
Who, paying their
tuppence for cheap
balcony seats,
spew their bile,
words so vile
as to make
a stone weep
The reviews
of the critics,
far be them from smitten,
are bloodily written,
by these cynics
leaking hate
from their pens
Then the papers are printed
and sold by loud hawkers,
to the gossiping gawkers
for barely a farthing;
a cheap nighttime's reading
of our hero's
disgrace
But the wright of this tragedy,
who's penned the production,
such a clever seduction,
is naught to be found
He's hiding backstage,
never facing the rage
of this mob,
that our poor yob
now faces
But there'll be
no early close
of this terrible flop,
no, the pain will not stop
and the follies will
continue a morrow
The backers will pay
to continue the play
for, as we all know,
the show must go on
So, the actors all heed
this despicable creed
to carry on
the deplorable farce
This drama shall replay
one show, plus matinee
every day
for the rest
of his life
Think on this,
dear patrons,
while you're
hissing
and jeering,
that the actor's
one hope
is that you,
he'll be cheering
Say you now,
has he ever failed
to bring you to tears?
Or, perchance
has his laughter
never lifted
your fears?
Life's a cruel stage
for the sensitive soul,
he's paying the toll
to be playing his role
yes, this is
our protagonist's fate
Categories:
gawkers, angst,
Form:
Rhyme
Stella's Garden
A gorgeous row of tiny dainty crystal bells lead the neighbors into Stella’s mystical garden. She is thrilled to see their interest, and points out other items that are growing – turnips, radishes, lettuce, peas, tomatoes and green beans. The true gawkers are so enraptured with the bluebells They see nothing else. These flowers make Stella’s garden magic, mystical, and marvelous!
aromatic bluebells
flickering in her garden
flower faerie laughs
Categories:
gawkers, garden,
Form:
Haibun