Best Glared Poems
I Heard Mother
(to tune of "I Saw Mother Kissing Santa Clause")
I heard Mother scolding Santa's elf
As I prowled the house on Christmas Eve.
He'd hid in St. Nick's sleigh
And then sneaked out to play
After having waited for his boss to fly away.
Mother caught him gobbling all our snacks
After he tore open every gift.
Oh, when she glared down at his face,
He went scrambling from our place
Screaming, "Santa, stop the sleigh-
I need a lift!"
For Silent One's 'Your first poem on Poetry Soup' Poetry Contest
I believe it was Dec. 23 of 2009 right before Christmas!
French trader Tavernier in a greed-inspired way
Glared at an idol of a temple in Mandalay
Prying a gem from its eye socket, a curse prevailed
Tavernier died bankrupt soon after making the sale
Louis XIV bought the stone, 1668
A gift to his mistress, Louis had it cut heart-shape
For dabbling in Black Magic, this madam was burned
A century passed with the curse’s power unlearned
The diamond was then bestowed on Marie Antoinette
For wearing it with boastful pride, Marie lost her head
She lost respect from the commoners of her nation
This gem has since been linked to the French Revolution
Cut far smaller, the gem resurfaced, 1830
When a London banker bought the rock of infamy
Henry Thomas Hope survived; the curse appeared to break
For 70 years the Hope Diamond’s wrath lay in state
A Hope heir’s marriage collapsed; his wife evoked the curse
As she foretold, subsequent owners’ fates would be worse
French broker Jacques Colot went mad, suicide his road
Sultan “Abdul the Damned,” insane after being deposed
Then to an American the Hope Diamond was sold
Washington Post owner Maclean watched horrors unfold
Other household members died, but it was Maclean’s son
Ten years old, struck by a car, his Dad’s mind came undone
Ultra-light ray tests caused the mystery diamond to glow
With safety in mind, Hope’s eerie stone found a new home
It remained locked on display in the Smithsonian
Could it be to blame for all that’s wrong in Washington?
Tragedy also tied to raiders of King Tut’s tomb
Perhaps lessons can be gleaned from those who met their doom
Robbing temples, burial sites, outcomes always bad
Greedy souls’ quests for wealth can leave them totally mad
So don’t expect me to purchase a diamond in the rough
Considering this gem’s history, a sandstone’s quite enough
THE RESTLESS SEA
As dawn swept 'way the morning stars
A gloomy Helen glared
Poor Paris stood in silence-- watched--
He’d kiss her if he dared.
The sea was raging round their heads
The men rowed without cease
The lovers headed to their doom--
A myth is birthed in Greece
Ten thousand ships launch in pursuit
Rough soldiers flex their knees--
Today hunt thieves tomorrow queens--
Men do what kings will please
The soldiers puked and gambled hard
Twas boredom that they feared
A seasick trip was just a jaunt--
The Trojan shore appeared
The glory grew beyond Troy’s walls
The truth no one can trust….
Dark tragedy writ in the books--
Tis flung among the dust.
Victoria Anderson-Throop
1/14/13
Whom the horse is looking for
Every day in the scarlet breeze
It comes and taps at the door
Have you forgotten your blue cheese
Is it the one I dream of
Accompanied by the charged shiver
Especially when I am burnt out
Like the lean exhausted river
The last time I saw it
In blue light it stood
The pink link it signalled me
I was in a restless wood
I tried to recall
Where had I seen it
The tempest and the thunder squall
Then the ocean of the mist
But how come I am morose
I have got nothing to do
With this equine inquiry
Then what for the blues overdose
But the residual pink remains
I have seen it somewhere
Beside the blue Euphrates?
My another mind inquired
A Freudian explained me
Your horse misses you
Your bosom friend of the boyhood
Longs for a hue or two
He reached me a magazine
Inside I came across the faces
Of lovely blonde and black women
In very skimpy dresses
I couldn't remove my eyes
Was in a reverie
What is it, the analyst asked
Is it the equine spree?
Was the horse now inside me?
Something I felt scary
Does Mathew still hold good
Was it the visual adultery?
From above
Dropped a dew
Are you living still
In the age of Mathew
Was it the horse
Yes, said he
Goading you
Into harmless glee
And my thoughts
Went astray
Last night in Paul's house
How charmingly in the sofa she lay
The tremor in the cup of tea
Now the horse again for the infidelity
I knew it for sure
It was the mental adultery
Now Mathew not alone
Beside him glared Mark
I was in a blind cone
This crimson sky how to shirk
Tush tush
Smiled the analyst
Without the child
You can't exist
You are living in the light speed life
It is the child that slows you down
Makes you smile amidst your strife
In the mirror you wear a crown
February 12, 2018
Loss of an Innocent Mind - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
He cursed himself for accepting the dare. He never believed in ghosts or haunted houses. He thought it was an easy way to make a few bucks if he spent a night in a haunted house.
Now he found himself in the most deserted house of the small town, reputed to be haunted. He had lain on his camp bed and hoped sleep would come soon. Certainly, he did not relish the pitch darkness of the house or outside it.
Without any rational explanation he found himself hovering between nowhere and the balcony. He saw all the houses of the town light up in a flash of multiple lightning. It seemed to him as if the whole town trembled as an earthquake rippled below the ground. The balcony seemed to disintegrate, and he found himself falling, falling, and falling right down into an abyss.
He wanted to cry in alarm. Sweat oozed out from all over his body. He woke up on the camp bed. He tried to get up but found himself paralyzed. The darkness engulfed him like a bed cover. Suddenly he thought he saw a flash outside the bedroom in the corridor. Lightning? He had no way of knowing.
Finally, he found he could move his hand and grasp the bottle of rye. The liquid seared his throat. It was not easy to drink as he laid flat on his back. The heat was now intense, and he sweated profusely. He tried in vain to pull up the bed sheet to try and wipe his face. The only thing that moved was his heart that was pumping away like mad. Relax. No ghosts about. It was only in the mind. Tomorrow he would gain those extra bucks.
It was then that he felt something moving over his body. In the pitch darkness he could not see what this could be. Suddenly a pair of malevolent eyes glared at him out of nowhere, seemingly without a face. Then he heard the growl. He wanted to scream but could not. Sweat poured down his face and his heart pumped away like a rocket propelled to hell.
His friends found him next day, cold dead, a small cat sitting on his chest.
He was asleep on his stomach.
His snoring could wake the dead.
She glared at his sleeping back
wanting to push him out of bed.
She covered her ears with a pillow
trying to block out the sound.
An evil thought ran though her head,
"There were no witnesses around".
She crept out to the kitchen
She could have stomped ... he wouldn't hear.
With the largest butcher knife
she returned to her husband dear..
Right between his shoulder blades,
one thrust ... he snored no more.
She gathered the blankets around him
to keep the blood off the white shag floor.
Then the snoring started again.
She let out a startled scream
and sat bolt upright in her bed.
It had all been just a dream.
He was asleep on his stomach.
His snoring could wake the dead.
She stared at his sleeping back
and wanted to punch him in the head.
10/07/2012
An Devil's Dalliance
It was just one of those mornings?
Or at least I think it was, that is,
if I had created “morning’s” yet.
All my little angels trying out their
wings (in a strictly non-competitive
manner of course). I was slightly
distracted by Creation at the time
so some of the details are a bit
sketchy---the “all knowing” thing
a bit exaggerated---however I did
suspect some shenanigans within
a small group. You know, changing
the shape of the clouds, a seemingly
innocent diversion had become a
bit racy. They were playing with
rainbows and dabbling in an
evolving plot. Anyway, when “he”
showed me his “new” pet – the
duckbilled platypus - I had to draw
the line. After a thorough scolding
I sent him back down to clean up
the mess he’d made. A darkness
came over him (we call it anger now)
his wings darkened, his eyes glared,
a putrid wind arose beneath him
(the scent of defiant rebellion).
I still remember the sting of his
scathing good-bye. “I’ll start my
own “heaven!”. “I’ll be bigger than
you.”
“Until an hour before he left
I thought him beautiful”*
“I still do, for I know the
truth of who he is and wait
patiently for him to realize it.”
3/4/2016
*Arthur Miller, The Crucible
“Until an hour before the Devil fell, God thought him beautiful in Heaven”
submitted to Expand Arthur Miller’s Thought – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Julia Ward
An apple every day, he said to me.
Berries too, for your recovery.
Can I have just one small slice of pie?
Doctor nearly glared into my eye!
Even nuts and cheese you must not eat.
For Heaven's Sake, Doctor, I need a treat!
Good food should not be processed, white or fried.
How about some egg whites on the side?
(I was being snide because it's no
Joke that yolk is always good to go!)
Knowing I should lay off yummy things
Like burgers, chocolate, and pizza brings
Me such great angst! Everybody knows
No vegetables compare to fried potatoes!
On Thanksgiving, I will do some cheating.
Popcorn (hot-air popped) I will be eating!
Sept. 10, 2016 For the Alphabet Soup PoetryContest of Kim Merryman
Jungle by night
In the far jungle
The big bear of darkness lay
Crouched all night on leafy ground.
It glared through eyes of
Oil lamps of far away huts.
When dawn came, it slunk away.
07/Dec/12
Form: Personification in Form ‘Sedoka’( Syllables: 5-7-7, 5-7-7 )
S.Jagathsimhan Nair
Motif: Nature
For Mary Oliver Rotman
“Can you smell something burning,” Dad frowned and I said “Yeah.”
It had the smell of cooking meat, as well as burning hair,
Dad stopped the truck, lifted the bonnet… “Blimey look at that!”
Something was mangled by the fan, looking like Mum’s cat.
“Strike me pink” Dad shook his head, “Mum’s cat’s been on the motor.
It’s been killed by the fan”; and we knew that Mum did dote her.
Dad looked at me with steely eyes, “Get the spade and dig a hole,
I’ll tell you now and only once… don’t tell a living soul”…
… I was halfway through my tea, staying quieter than a mouse.
Mum asked “Has anyone seen Tiddles? She’s not around the house.”
All Mum got was puzzled looks, and the shaking of each head…
Dad glared to remind me, ‘don’t tell a soul the cat is dead.’
Mum loved her cat so much; she’d have Tiddles on her lap
out on the porch at evening time. Contented she would nap.
I hated seeing Mum distressed, but Dad just acted bored,
when Mum said, “I’ll write a note, with an offer of reward.”
‘Ten pounds for her return’; I thought that Mum would smell a rat,
when Dad said “Make it twenty, if you really love your cat.”
The Ad’s printed in the paper, in the column ‘lost and found.’
Dad said to me “I’m feeling guilty now, with Tiddles underground.”
Dad let me drive the tractor while he spread the ragwort spray,
and then blackberries copped a dose before they shoot away,
he emptied out the tank and we went home to wash the gear.
The Evans’ car’s parked in our drive… “What are they doing here?”
Laughter’s in the kitchen; a joyous Mother’s voice did say
“Young Misty here found Tiddles; she was hiding in their hay,
no wonder she would not come home.” I watched Dad’s eyes and jaw.
… Twenty quid, the cat is back… a box of kittens on the floor.
The truth was concealed with many branches
Entangled on a trellis of deceit ,
The anger reflecting inked blots on weeds
As I cruised alone through evening’s approach...
To bid his disguise hidden like veiled twigs
Crumbling, withering in this labyrinth
Till the pretense of fidelity glared;
Siphoning a love untrue, root to bough...
How my heart sullen as dusk tumbled on,
Into a maze where a breeze folded its wings,
Its cry echoing my black homily
That in a daze I recalled his footsteps...
Yet, each step I trailed became ashen clay ;
His distorted ploy stirring a flamed rage
Where old leaves fall in the bleak of moonlight.
Lewis Rayne's Contest
Emotional Anger, hurt, rage
Submitted 12/1/2017
She came to me with hooded eyes,
her frank suspicion undisguised,
pushed to the brink, I surmised,
come to hear me prophesize.
Candles flickered in the room,
shadows darting through the gloom,
she smelled of musty, cheap perfume,
I recognized the scent of doom.
My hands caressed the crystal ball,
gazing in, I saw it all,
I tried to make my face a wall,
to shield her from the pain I saw.
What I told, I chose with care,
yet, stunned, she sat back in her chair,
people seem so unprepared,
but why'd they ask, if they're so scared?
She glared at me with baleful ire,
spat at me, called me a liar,
fled as if her hair was on fire,
the psychic life is God's satire.
©Danielle White
I was taking a nap
And some old chap
Closed the coffin as he heard angels sing
Knock knock who's there
It's me! I'm not dead
Now open the damn lid to this thing
He fell to his knees
Took off his cap
And uttered a few words for my soul
I was banging and shouting
Freaking him out
He was fast losing total control
I managed somehow
To break open the lid
And sat up and glared at this chap
By now he was babbling
In a strange foreign language
Running around eating his cap
Leaped down to the floor
Dusted myself off
Got ready to get on with my day
Heard him gurgle
His face turning purple
He keeled over dead and I prayed
So I picked up this chap
Lifted him into the coffin
And closed the lid once again
But now it was me
Who heard banging inside
Must be a serious glitch in my brain
Knock knock who's there
It's me! I'm not dead
Now open the damn lid and you'll see
The words that I heard
As I got on my horse
And galloped away from the scene
© Jack Ellison 2014
With a silence that cut through the laughter
She entered the room, bitterness
Edged around her features, portraying
Cruelty with an unfeeling sword of darkest
Gloom, dread so dismal it feels, almost,
Like grief sinking into the bones
Sullenness coughing up phlegm that rots
In the heart, the soul, the mind
Where there is a penetrating hostility
Her eyes glared at the laughing children
Echoed cynicism through the air
Like a poison dart piercing the heart
Her hatred tasted of a sourness
Only the very truthful could attest to
She was hard and her icy stares forced lovers
To pull away from one another, chastised
By the coldness that left chills on the mind
Resentment fell from her pores, sweating acidity
Imploring hope to be cast aside for disaster
Calamity so dreadful it was as fatal as a stab wound
A trepidation so repulsive with its awfulness
It feels like being in a nightmare,
Terrifying
When she looked at me, though…
I saw through the cool, calculating gaze
Into the heart where there had once lived
A child of five, all giggles and smiles
Alive with the joy of silliness, …
I saw, beneath the ice in the veins
The warmth of a heart who was living
… with excruciating pain
Pick-A-Title, Vol 30 - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
1.) Ice In the Veins
April 24, 2022
Whispers
How can I ever forget the evening we first met
Under the twilight of placid sun about to set
When your sweet whispers ably set me afire
As I embraced in earnest your loving desire.
You held me close intently as if for ever
In language of sweet love eminently clever
Inviting the peeking moon to join our affair
As a distant star blushingly glared with flair.
Lyrics of our romance resonated in my ear
As rhythm of our hearts echoed with cheer
Revealing tenderly a tale of heavenly bliss
Singing sweet nothings with a passionate kiss.
Your urges grew steadily more meaningful
Each time your verses called me beautiful
Intimating fondly that I occupied your mind
Towering to heights only true love can find.
We told each other wishes always come true
For love we own is granted to a select few,
As happiness willingly resides in our hearts
Bonded with admiration that never departs.
As your eager vibes pronounce our love anew
Every word of passion draws me closer to you
Conveying me to fervent places I never knew
Craving for your touch as our feelings renew.
Discourse of love resonates with adoring smile
As we revel in romantic talk avidly fragile
And echo of our minds reverberates with a sigh
Enamored in angelic love that will never die.
November 17, 2017
Whisper Sweet Nothings
Sponsor: Julie Leigh Rodeheaver
First Place