Best Graceless Poems
There's a river that twists in the mind
that I plunder and ravish with sieves,
on crusades to the summit of rhyme
where my Phoenix of tropes and schemes live.
In a war to free diction's fair Queen
where the Soldiers of Babel bemuse
and the modern day graceless regimes
are in battles to stifle my muse!
In my quest for her verse of prestige
I have traveled a nexus of words
with this Lexis of language on siege;
where the dissonant hum drum is heard!
Oh, the poise of my bayonet firm
as I pin down my thoughts in a rush!
Oh, the will of the language it squirms
as her essence of glory I brush!
She's the Queen Muse that whispers within
as she watches me battle with style,
she supplies me the yarn that I spin
as she lends me her rhythm awhile.
It's the moment her Highness is freed
that the Armies of Dissonance fall
and the sound of Perfection can bleed
in those lyrical sounds that enthrall!
Categories:
graceless, imagination, on writing and
Form:
Rhyme
Turned over to a sexual revolution,
evolved to hijacked rainbows.
Graceless hearts deprave the mind,
a diseased façade of freedom,
to redefine every right and wrong.
Prophesied last days ushering
the Bride of Christ persecuted.
-----------------------------------------------------
Contest: Unsayable
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
Written: 11.22.17
Categories:
graceless, america, bible, christian, gospel,
Form:
Free verse
Oh graceless, Old Age,
Your unattractive face the many despise
But your company they desperately seek
For
How else, could the magic of life enjoy
If they were not among those you pick?
© Demetrios Trifiatis
10 January 2016
Categories:
graceless, age, life, old,
Form:
Epigram
"Petrichor "
Two minds
have made an entrance
magnetic bodies electric
minions babble
it’s just wasted white noise
sandpaper against back stories hit
The Wall of Wasted Time
He’s read most between the lines
He’s all hard hot and cool
unruffled piercing eagle eyes
forever on the hunt for willing prey
She’s incognito in disguise
seeking a challenge amongst
the spoilt and unsoiled
green-eyed fray
the two watch
in studied silence
like heat seeking missiles
they will find each other
poles apart
opposites
light and dark
fascinated
they are each other’s mark
the ozone is now charged
the crowd dissolves
invisible all their faces
unread their lips
unheard their madding mob words
whispered all graceless
passionless empty pages
time departs
the fuse is lit
Two minds’ eyes connect
both burning id reflect
the moment before they met
neurons travelling at lightning speed
through pulse to fingertips
reach out towards
each other’s mortal form
to touch the cerebral net
then later
find fingers reading skin
like braille and thirst
to drink from reigning lips
the moment before the
welcome storm hits hips
to taste the salt in
the cumulonimbus bursting
blue feral hollows
of their naked terraform
the Two minds
like absent gods
high and lost
in each other’s ocean
bent and tossed
live their story
tattooed at the place
where bodies leave clean sheets
and souls connect
electric bodies ignite
La Petite Mort
wave after wave
their drowning moans
ecstatically deplore
their final becalmed
silence approaching
the sweet mercy of
Petrichor
(LadyLabyrinth/2018)
https://youtu.be/5hFCZ1tzWR0
"Body Electric"/Del Ray
"I sing the body electric,
The armies of those I love engirth me and I engirth them,
They will not let me off till I go with them, respond to them,
And discorrupt them, and charge them full with the charge of the soul"
I Sing the Body Electric, Walt Whitman
(American Poet, May 31,1819 – March 26, 1892)
"The love of the body of man or woman balks account, the body itself balks account,
That of the male is perfect, and that of the female is perfect."
I Sing the Body Electric, Walt Whitman
Categories:
graceless, desire, for her, for
Form:
Romanticism
Old Women
Old women are forgotten wombs
whose graceless bodies have fed
the word, then been sent
to sit in its shadow
not quite seen, not acknowledged,
not nurtured
They are more patient than God
Old women are crucified
with nails of oppression and poverty
Equality is a Damoclean Sword
when age freckles out-number
soft, sweet patches of youth
Old women have scarred and bloody knees
from kneeling in submission to lesser minds
who felt bigger from the looking down
A rosary of sorrows is strung
through the weary fingers
of old women
They are hung on the crucifix of youth
and beauty to wither into dust
Alone in cubicles and corners,
frayed photos beneath their coats
Old women remember children
who have long forgotten them
They do not seek a man’s arms,
for that is not a refuge, but a honeyed trap
where souls are flayed beyond recognition
Such wondrous minds
Living libraries of life
Vision and experience left untouched
because it is not behind a pretty face
Behold the woman
She is a wealth of wisdom, power,
beauty and courage
yet she is left beside the road
of living
Her reckoning will come
Until then...she endures
Categories:
graceless, courage, endurance, wisdom, woman,
Form:
Prose
The sun blowtorches its way into the water,
fragments, and the bottom is an aqua sky
webbed by white-hot lightning.
Here and there, legs hang like halved mannequins
disappearing into a squiggly-bright ceiling,
through which you can make out
the slurred shape of a poolside palm tree.
The deep, guttural grooon-grooon of
the water’s stomach growling is all you hear,
dredging up a similar sound from your subconscious,
last heard while you were immersed, long ago,
in another fluid world.
The water suddenly internal-combusts
in a tangle of arms and legs,
flailing in a fizz of a million tiny bubbles,
some kid having just somersaulted into the blue.
Soon, another’s face splashes down before you,
slightly albino in the shining water,
bug-eyed with silvered goggles
like a child alien from a waterless planet
discovering buoyancy.
Then you realize it’s your own kid,
wobbling from side to side,
toothy, hair waving like smoke
as he dog-paddles away.
You come up for air, breaching the surface like a
graceless dolphin,
and clarity hits your ears,
a momentarily soundless din.
You can already feel your skin heating up
in the blast furnace above water,
confusing because there are beads
running down your face and neck, cold.
You suck a lungful of air and push yourself under again,
but not before catching a glimpse of your wife
drowse-browsing a magazine on her sun lounger,
and the two umbrellas,
the big one shading the miniature one
stuck in the snowy slush of your pina colada.
Categories:
graceless, family, happiness, light, summer,
Form:
Free verse
O tiny, dimpled sphere, virginal white,
Whooshing on your preordain-ed flight:
What motivates your Lord to curses spew
When you've done naught but to his swing be true?
Slice, and down he calls the wrath of God
On you and those who made you;
Hook, and here he whines you failed to heed
His clear intent to fade you.
You moved, he reasons, at the bottom of the downswing of the shot
(As if, inanimate jot, you have the power to move, or not).
“You’re old,” he mutters when a feeble, graceless effort
Sends you only laughing distance off the tee.
“Too bold,” he sputters when a misselected iron
Flies you over green to rest behind a tree.
Err as physics dictate, and Lo!, you are to blame;
Perform as he expects of you, no credit's due,
Only commands that you do more of same.
You are twice cut by lethal hacks that scar your face with "smiles.”
(“Grimace” is the better word.)
While the acid words he throws at you,
The vitriol he blows at you,
Drain his duffer's bile.
Injustice is your lot, bedeviled wretch, until you cease
Behind a bush or in some pond find peace;
For when you’re lost in water, wood, or shrub,
The cretin will commence to fault his club.
1/5/2016
Any Poem Contest
Sponsor: Broken Wings
Categories:
graceless, golf, humorous,
Form:
Ode
Slain without swords they are
Though the airy wordly air
They inhale yet in graceless lack
Behold in the colony of wretchedness
Naked children begging alms
From brothers-not brothers
See as flies soar above sores
On their broken soles pus to lick
From the leaking flesh of starving souls
Don't their ribs tell the origin of bones?
Aren't worms molesting their intestines?
Don't they a place share in the supreme likeness?
Deserted cold gutter-side is their safe haven at night
And without meals they exit in multiple batches
To account for the trilemma of their ragged souls
Categories:
graceless, death, life, sympathy,
Form:
Pastoral
I have danced while music played,
and smiled, although despairingly,
through tears at smiles not meant for me.
Both soft eyes, though brown and drab,
have strived to glitter, with scant success,
as others shone bright, reflecting light
beneath their lashes, lush and long.
While I lurched in crazy drunken spirals,
others, precise, performed their pirouettes
and flowed across the polished floor
and smiled and laughed and more:
completely at their ease.
What terminal disease decrees
despair my partner in this dance?
Is there no chance to sit the music out,
a listener, discrete, devout?
While others whirl and dip, I slide and slip.
Must I be a half-a-pair with stumbling feet,
inept novice, graceless lout who, led about,
never has an easy air dancing with despair?
Categories:
graceless, angst, dance, depression, introspection,
Form:
Free verse
Part 1 - Unforgiveable
Beyond all rhyme and reason
Utterly beyond the pale
To be denounced in any season
A complete and utter FAIL
Eleven million watched in awe
Some driven to rage and shock
So many scarred by what they saw
But you can't turn back the clock
'Twas the graceless act of a savage
Of an ogre and a fool
Before he causes any more damage
Let's send him back to school
Or perhaps we ought to lock him up?
That might bring some relief
Keep him away from Jaffas and tea cups
Save us all from further grief
We need an apology from this pest
For the bitterness he's left in the mouth
I think our Mary said it best
"We don't do that in the South"
Part 2 - In Defence
He's no brute and he's no caveman
Just a guy who likes his tea
I think he's quite a brave man
With his dunking controversy
I'm with him - as there comes a time
To stand up for your right
To dip into your fine cuppa
Whatever you reckon will delight
Now I myself go for bourbons
Or digestives, or hobnobs
I'd never thought of plunging Jaffas
As they're too soft for the job
But I'm reviewing that opinion
He's an expert, after all
He's really got me thinking
So, I'm saying "Thank you, Paul"
McVitie’s say he's in the wrong
But I'd like to see their proof
And I know they're really smiling
As the sales go through the roof
Categories:
graceless, food,
Form:
Rhyme
As the tide rushes
forward, brown -black seaweed strands
wrap the graceless leg.
Silver scaly fish
catch the glister of the sun
as silken drops of sea
slide off the pallid
hand lifting to wave to those
on the retreating shore.
Categories:
graceless, death, fear, sad, sea,
Form:
Haiku
Cried she concealingly in her heart,
felt lone and heavy,
disconcerted she was from her graceless life ,
Waited for the support of someone's hand,
and his courteous voice.
Shoddy reason it was which her family verbalised,
downhearted she felt in her mundane life,
she burked her feelings and tried to take a breath,
But found it effete tto restrain her mind and flesh,
and died with the charge of annihilating oneself.
No one knew that her parents cursed her,
None knew how gravely her thrashing went on ,
Nobody knew that she was treated extrinsic,
Not any soul knew ,
That she was tormented so hard.
Her body was thrown into a stream nearby,
Not a proper burial was given to that innocent child,
and twenty two she was with a beautiful smile,
but was only tortured,
B'coz she was born as a 'Girl Child'.
Categories:
graceless, pain,
Form:
I danced around the circle how graceless i am
The tones i used to sing was no longer mine
Food id like to eat turned bitter in time
I looked at the mirror the face is not mine
How cruel the world so clueless no sign
Pieces by pieces will i ever redesign
I feign day by day that everything is fine
Love i once held was now undefined
The tramp, loafer, bummer all in one
Whatever you call the name is one sound
Pond of lust and laughter and fun
You may win the game but your cloud has no sun
My eyes are bleeding in pain and on fire
Indomitable anger so hard to respire
Look at me now how you made me desire
Exhausted, berated, Please condole by my side
Categories:
graceless,
Form:
Observing.
Frozen in time,
captivated by this enormous being,
the size of a small car.
Pondering,
his every move.
The way he used his hands;
so child-like.
With all the consciousness of the world,
and graceless coordination.
Aware.
of the visitors,
as they briefly called out for his attention.
Only for a moment,
then they were gone.
Untamed,
in an orderly sham.
He sat there,
in his dark cave.
As if he was waiting for the light to find him.
Perched,
on a boulder,
squatting, and primitive.
Drawing in the dirt with one hand.
Swatting a fly with the other.
Surreal,
His nature,
as he rushed to consume his food.
The females hovered behind him,
watching intently,
like me.
His movement mechanic.
His presence powerful.
He was the king of his domain.
Studying,
his magnificence, I watched.
How smart was he?
Could he feel my presence?
Engulfed in the very essence of all that was him,
I watched.
Wondering,
how he felt, I watched.
Did he think he was still in the womb of Mother Nature?
Or, did he know the iron bars which embrace him now?
Then
it happened;
our eyes met.
He noticed my presence.
His gaze intimidated me,
But I did not look away.
He approached me.
I felt his eyes inspecting my soul.
A chill ran down my back,
I turned behind me,
only to find no other presence there.
When I turned back,
we were face to face.
Separated by the sham,
And a two inch piece of glass.
Just me and him,
the two of us,
and the females hovering behind him.
Wise,
His old eyes spoke to me,
They said
“I am like you.
I love, I feel, I hurt.
I am, like you.”
Sympathetic,
I put my hand on the glass
and with all the
consciousness of the world,
he did the same.
With tears in my eyes,
I smiled.
Then, he pooped in his other hand
and wiped it on the glass.
This was a sign of endearment.
I laughed out loud.
And I swear,
He smiled back.
Categories:
graceless, adventure, animals, art, childhood,
Form:
Narrative
The wind thickens beyond measure
And life forces couple beyond fathom.
A chest of broken toys for a treasure
And a walk in the sun for a leisure.
Like a cigarette on a winter's night,
My will burns out slowly, wholly;
Ashes decorate the void of the window sill
As the filter corks have a way to loll their bellies
on the cocoa floor, graceless.
I've lived my whole life on an ox-cart;
Now the trail snaking down the oaks of my future
gets stonier as tombs of foliage crunch to the helm.
This life is a whirlpool of fates
and other things I cannot change;
There is a wretch and disgust
that comes with every rain season,
And today my thoughts are of a better poet than me
whose strings lost taut every time
he plucked them to sing his sonnets;
Much is left to wonder of what will become
of this my hopeless opus.
The fabric of solace opens its arms
before the wretch of a loner,
But my patchwork heart feels a cold beyond its warmth.
4/11/16
Categories:
graceless, change, deep, emotions, feelings,
Form:
Free verse