Best Grimacing Poems
There you were - dancing,
unaware of the intense rain.
Despite grey clouds grimacing,
your radiant glamour enticed emotions.
Emeralds and sapphires shimmered
through those luminous eyes.
First glimpse of your warm smile,
saw suppressed symphonies resonate
with each beat of my heart.
Not all poetry is for everyone's eyes,
so we read each other in silence.
Unwritten ink dyed our skin,
as the pen lost control,
carving our names within
timeless beloved ballads.
Two souls scribbling secret sonnets,
easing restless chambers of our minds.
Naturally beautiful like nature,
our evergreen love blossomed.
As we wandered within utopia's oasis,
our feet kissed sun blessed paths,
leading to passionate pastures.
There is no transcript,
to our epic love story,
it will forever remain an
unpublished manuscript.
Simple Musing
Silent One
11 September 2018
Categories:
grimacing, love, romance,
Form:
Free verse
I used to like barbells, enjoyed pumping iron,
my Nautilus* gym was one happy environ.
Those posters of 6-packs and marbled biceps
inspired me to start counting carbs, pounds, and reps.
My trainer would coax, "hold as long as you can!"
Doing deadlifts I felt like a WAS a dead man
The kettlebell, medicine ball - hated those,
since dropping 'em both on my poor little toes.
My dad-bod and willpower soon parted ways,
after only 1 set, I was shell-shocked for days
My back hurt, my knees ached, I'd injured my hips,
after grimacing nonstop, I'd sprained both my lips.
Oy! The sharp pain that shoots
through my quads, delts and glutes...
Now my game plan is shifting
no more power lifting.
To planks, it's "no thanks",
I'm expunging all lunging.
I feel stabs in my abs,
there's a hex on my pecs
and my lats shriek like bats.
When I tweak my oblique
I am sore to the core...
and I want it no more.
The rowing machine is no longer my scene
I loathe those squats lots and I hate crunches bunches.
Do sit-ups or push-ups? Do jump-ups or chin-ups?
I'm more inclined now to do lots of "I-give-ups".
My doc tried convincing me I'd be less tired?
I'm questioning how that poor man's brain is wired!
I felt half exhausted just WATCHING staff clean
the ellipticals, treadmills, and stair-climb machine.
Then... I found when I stood on the locker room scale
That my plan to lose weight was a sad epic fail!
I'm done! I have finished my very last burpee -
I just want a hot dog and super-size Slurpee.
What happened to wanting to feel fit and well?
When it came to workouts, I was just a dumbbell.
I've resolved now to walk more, or swim a few laps
maybe jog, ride my bike, play some tennis, take naps.
That's right, getting plenty of rest seems so plain,
it appears the most challenging muscle to train ...
is the brain.
* Nautilus is a brand of gym equipment
written 2 Oct 2022
Categories:
grimacing, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
All alone you sit there in grip of graveyard, hosting demonic thoughts,
Listening to cries of tombstones, squalling from lovers’ somber epitaphs,
Recounting how you chased prospects, innocent souls you courted,
Celebrating your maleficence building bonfires on the burial grounds,
Where you buried them one by one, watching the dance of demons,
As your stony heart laughed aloud, mocking the dead in total disregard.
You lured them with synthetic smiles, faux glamor of loveless stance,
Never meaning a word uttered, attired in stares of spurious glance,
As you prayed on them, then discarded; in landfills of broken-hearts.
Relationships initiated in springs of life, often parched in summer heat,
As passionless encounters burned in flame of hideous promiscuity;
Got washed away by the feisty storms churning scurrilous intensity,
Propelling hurricanes lovelorn, flooding realms of lovesome prairies,
When aspirations of your lust subordinated inspirations of pure love.
Old and fragile, you ruminate now, in frigid winters of your miserable life,
Speechless, motionless, fearful of your pitiful world swiftly passing by,
Haunting your eyes, as paranormal spirits, the silhouettes of the dead,
Mock your decrepit existence, shouting insanities at your grimacing face.
Remorseful beneath moon and stars, you inscribe your own epitaph:
She was a gloom of stygian clouds, shrouding arc of love on sunlit dawns,
She was a dubious counterfeit act; she was a vile curse on romance,
A cooing dove of morn she was not; a phantom of love she sure was.
Categories:
grimacing, death, lust, sorrow,
Form:
Verse
7/9/20
"Sickening"
This is sickening
And quickening
Not at all, what I was envisioning
Nobody listening
Most chickening
Fidgeting
And limiting
Themselves to the point of being crippling
The effects rippling
And tripling
On top of it, we've got social distancing
Still dribbling
I've been chiseling
And scribbling
No matter what has been incoming
Pivoting
And occasionally grimacing
The temperature freezing, cold, mild or sizzling
The weather icy, windy, calm, scorching or drizzling
Clowns continue giggling
Petty people are still belittling
Over every little thing
Not all that riveting
It's becoming uninteresting
Sometimes I sip, sometimes I swig
Sometimes I flip the script
Even though sometimes it's rigged
Before opportunities are shriveling
And dwindling
Got to get it quickly
And differently
Meanwhile all senses are tingling
Categories:
grimacing, dark, deep, poetry, rap,
Form:
Rhyme
When I was a child,
summer at my Aunt Joanne’s
meant staying out as late as it took the sun to set!
And mostly with my cousin Chris,
I threw a baseball back and forth
with exhilaration each time I felt
the impact of Chris having thrown the ball
right smack in the center of my glove.
Chris’ dad, my Uncle Clifford, loved his baseball!
One time I remember
being loaded with the other kids into his old car,
summer wind blowing through my hair,
as he drove us to a game in Davenport.
Uncle Clifford used to play on that same diamond
where he took us to watch that game.
I wasn’t all that keen on it.
But the atmosphere was so lively.
Vendors selling hot dogs, cracker jacks, and candy -
this was my childhood delight!
I am sure I must have cheered
for a team of which I knew absolutely nothing,
mimicking my elders there in the stadium
as wildly they called out their reactions to the game.
In school I played baseball myself,
standing like a statue in the outfield.
It was more exciting to watch my brother Dale from the stand,
those long hot summer afternoons as he played on his league.
It would be at least twenty years later
that I would sit and cheer for a baseball game again -
this time for my son in Little League.
Rooting for a loved one makes the game more alive for me!
Grimacing with every strike my son made;
standing up and going crazy when at last . . .
he knocked it out far into right field!
Glowing with pride that my son’s forte was as catcher
and watching him in all his gear behind home plate.
When I hear the old familiar song Take Me Out To the Ballgame,
it reminds me of the simple pleasures
of my youth,
a time when life was slower paced
and those summer days with my cousins.
America’s pastime, which has trained so many kids
to love being part of a team,
now seems to take a back seat to that rowdy sport called football.
But give ME a game I can follow,
a game that through time I came to love.
My Uncle Clifford has since passed away;
oh to spend one more day with him
at the old ball game!
Feb. 24, 2017 For Phillip Garcia's The National Pasttime Poetry Contest
Categories:
grimacing, baseball,
Form:
Prose
Written: November 06, 2023
___________________________________________
A swarm of herring gulls amassed
Nexus Nautilus nabbed by zealous winds,
whitening the black soil
we hold spears in our hands.
blood-stained thorns on the side
sullen squawks a skirmishing sporophyte,
dubious, grayish rumors must be buried
drave in a drizzle, drape to deities.
Installation of sentry fences
Sisyphean stones
anchor down using seal and string
flaws in the swings used by blacksmiths
Unborn burning bullion bludgeon
Savage sunless swords embryonic
Edgeless, with no reflections.
Each peak over the Edenic Steppes is sprayed,
using torn paper candles as bait
climbing scaffolds with lumber rungs
pounding of leather-heavy boots
darkened, grimacing features
Flocks failing feathers or flight.
Our hold slips on windswept
Windswept updrafts carry us away
as offspring of the royal family.
Categories:
grimacing, analogy, feelings, fishing,
Form:
Free verse
Hurriedly, silently, in purposeful fluid movements
and long, determined strides, he dashed among
the thickets, bending and darting amidst the vines
searching for a perfect little place to stay and hide.
Stealthily and noiselessly he slithered underneath
lush, leafy overhangs shielding him from the sun -
keen, cautious, like a crouching, hungry predator
anxious not to draw unwanted attention to himself.
The birds on treetops hushed their singing in haste
as the woods turned suddenly still - frozen in place,
shocked, stunned and unprepared to bear witness
to the mysterious man’s strange, diabolical scheme.
He threw a quick look to his left and another to the right
then jerked, turning his head around to make doubly sure
that no human soul finds him in this quiet, secluded place
about to carry out his dark, sinister and unplanned crime.
Taking a deep, measured breath and now totally reassured
of being truly alone, away from prying eyes to a gory crime,
in his madness he violently yanked down his old Levi jeans,
squatted to the ground, grimacing, and…ahh, sweet release!
Categories:
grimacing, funny, mystery
Form:
Dramatic Verse
As I was sitting in the park, one dark cloudy day, I was troubled in such a worrisome way.
My complicated life had me down, upon my face, a grimacing, tormented frown.
When I looked up, what I saw, was a stern faced clown, uninterested, suffused, withdrawn.
He was sitting on the bench, so sad, so frayed, his hands clenched tight, as if he prayed.
A look of torment upon his haunted face, it seemed he was uninterested, out of place.
From his eyes, tears were falling to the ground, I was astonished, I was so astound.
His face seemed to be frozen in time, but then again he reminded me of a mime.
I understood immediately, we were the same, both of us being in the same mind frame.
I tried to smile and to my despair, we both stared at each other with an equal glare.
I wondered what this message could possibly be, was this fate being directed to me?
He nodded his head, looked up to the leaden sky, he read my thoughts, I silently sighed.
I realized in an instant this was foreseen; so petrified, I felt like a frozen ashy figurine.
The clown still seated on the bench, his eyes steadily fixed, on me, was he totally
entrenched?
That tormented look that was upon his face, continued in silence, showing no reflective
grace.
Understanding, I smiled; I knew that this was my ghost, sent to me by The Divine’s Holy host.
No longer worried or concern; my troubles lifted, that gloomy dark cloud has been adjourned.
© Juanita Warden 7/12/11
Categories:
grimacing, imaginationme, dark, dark, me,
Form:
Verse
All regrets, in every backward flashback
leave bitter tastes like remorseful morsels
left drowning in your tear welled eyes
each day was longer and lower
lower and loathing
exposed naked in clothing
open and empty without your
....trusting
All regrets, in every backward flashback
chisel names on tombstone with unforgivable clarity
leaving unbearable burials beneath these wretched feet
reincarnated daily sleighing me repeatedly with growing fervor
fervor and hate
filthy face washed over in angst
closed off from safety and salvation without your
....understanding
All regrets, in every backward flashback
grimacing sneers returned in mirrors like evil staring contests
every showdown lost in landslide fashion, reflection laughing
devoured each hour as they slip by consuming
consuming and draining
worlds worth of words and deeds beyond explaining
I'm only half as good and partially whole without your
....forgiveness
Inspired by Mr. Michael Jordan's "Untwisted" contest
Categories:
grimacing, angst, forgiveness, introspection
Form:
Free verse
Ambition is to play the Cello
Becoming a most talented fellow
Cellists make such sumptuous sounds
Delighting audiences the whole world round
Encouragement to take up lessons
From former cellist Hubert Hasbeen
Grimacing when he hears me play
Hasbeen lasted a week and a day
I was downhearted ~ I began to cry
Just when I spied her grandeur from the corner of my eye
Keyboard ~ Kettle drum ~ neither one did I desire
Laughing loudly I had found the one to set the world on fire
My heart it skipped a beat as I approached her silver feet
Nothing else would do for me the sound was so unique
Once I stood in front of her she smiled ~ it was so sweet
Playfully I stroked her keys as I began to feel at ease
Quivering with excitement and dropping to my knees
Resolute to practice every day and every night
Stoically determined to reach my ultimate peak
The Royal Philharmonic well they called me up one day
Unknown to me they’d heard my work and wanted me to play
Vowing to do my very best
When I auditioned with the rest
Xylophonist extraordinaire
Yells and cheers from all my peers
Zenith reached as played Pythagoras’ music of the spheres
Written 9th February 2020
Contest ABECEDARIAN
Sponsor Caren Krutsinger
1st PLACE
Contest Strand Select J
Sponsor Brian Strand
2nd PLACE
Categories:
grimacing, inspiration, music, planet, stars,
Form:
Abecedarian
Love comes in all
shapes and sizes – Thank God!
Myself having evolved in some
rather, undesirable directions...
But what is the same anymore?
Environmentalists say, not the sky!
Not the seas! (Seagulls flying off
with bees to who knows where?)
As those wide-open spaces – gone!
Concrete and steel having replaced
colorfully tinted rural faces, with grimacing
gray features – tenements rabid with crime
and moral filth...desperately in need
of far more heavenly graces – or, at the least,
the lofty illusions pearl-necklaced TV Moms
once gave us.
Libraries, the sacred cloisters of
of enchanted places and mystical dreams,
no longer bearing, at the least
informative fruits for deliberative
minds; such institutions polluted
with Liberal Politics, personal greed
coupled with insane hunger for
for power over more docile others,
a hollowing of the human soul
leaving a bitter emptiness
and disconnect where once
thrived the fertile seeds of cooperative
living...
So, what is the new normal?
Hell if I know! Politicians
speaking out of both sides of
elongated, medically enhanced
lying mouths – technically new?
Educators enunciating with their
backsides – but now their pant’s fully down,
Punctuating a Marxist agenda, their
transforming goals openly on display --
perhaps for them, a new honesty?
College students confused as to which
way to turn in bed – enough to confound
the most flexible contortionist….
Thank God for alcohol!
Categories:
grimacing, analogy, corruption, introspection, leadership,
Form:
Free verse
Amidst the stress and strains of life rejoice
Don't fold now, you still can play the hand
Forget old rules, make a new paradigm for choice
The brail and vang is in your will's command
In your heart, just know your cause with God is right
The stakes for all is everything you are
Where your hands toil, work with all your might
And point the stern towards your homing star
Do not quit your dreams now, do not complain or cry
Stand boldly at the bow and keel against the wind
What matters if in the great struggle we die
We could not live forever anyhow, and still we win
For we have opened a path unopened before, and shew
Men how, for the world will after us in glory
But not behind the whimpering soul will any pursue
The grimacing shame of a coward's history.
Know whose you are, and who you are reclaim
For God made you in his image, and set your heart
To have dominion here, to replenish in the flame
Subdue the earth, now with honor do your part!
Tell winds and waves be still, tell the fire break
You have God's glory to your name, stand and fight
Do not quiver, let not the sun-centered rod shake
Day comes the morning after the darkest night.
Categories:
grimacing, hope, inspirational, upliftinggod, god,
Form:
Verse
The child’s mother hands him a pair of gloves
and helps him to insert his fingers.
Grimacing, he misses mittens!
Pulling off the gloves, he puts
each hand in a pocket.
Fingers move warmly
together – snug
and glad now.
The boy
smiles.
Jan. 5, 2023
Of What Use Are Gloves To Fingers That Only Understand Mittens Poetry Contest
Sponsor: John Lawless
Categories:
grimacing, boy,
Form:
Etheree
Following rules, we learned as kids,do you remember?
Do not take another's pencil, it is a sin, nor their precious toys
nor dimes to in your pockets, put in,
What allows us now, to steal with such giddy, sin-filled ploy?
Whether be it a car-jacking or a despicable looting done on camera
with grimacing, hideous joy?
Most of us are not thieves, and raise heck at plagiarists!
But things now escaped in adults as crooks as forgers or "fraud-sters anonymous."
The simple truth is that things taken, display a huge lack of integrity,
And simply fail, with their lack of character and bald- faced chicanery.
Play up front and honest is my call.
Pretend you made a home-run,when in fact, all you had was a foul ball?
Winners fulfill promises, losers on their faces will fall.
Cheating wins no games in life, that's a big loser's call.
1-5-2021
8am PST
Dedicated to Maria, my daughter, a woman of ethics and
elected to office legally. Thank you. It was a hard road but
you made a difference for the good~ in many!
Wow~ a woman of integrity. Without that, nothing works.
Love, Mom
Categories:
grimacing, character, dedication,
Form:
Couplet
"Can you feel the soul of an abandoned house;
can you hear the whispering? "
Quote by _Constance La France
Your ancestors had built me, brick by brick, with devotion,
I withstood the sun and shower and earthquake commotion;
Your birth in me, like a little doll, gave me immense pride,
How I cherished your creeping, crawling, and dandy horse ride...!
Your sleeping, rising, walking, running, singing, and dancing,
In your reading, writing, drawing, and painting advancing;
In Your eating and drinking, dressing up and making-up,
I have taken pleasure in your bird-like nimble, quick sup...!
Your first school, first satchel, and first fancy materials,
Your graduation, first job, wedding, and such serials,
Each event of your life, O child mine, I'd been witnessing,
Never at any of your steps, you found me grimacing...!
You have grown, now, physically and psychically, much,
In health, wealth, learning, and love you now lack nothing as such;
For the sake of your dream palace, you have abandoned me,
As though a ghost, my very face you do not want to see...!
I am not, yet, frightened of my loneliness and neglect,
Though day by day, I am by winds and storms and tempest wrecked;
I just want to feel your presence within for short instants,
Lest an acute ache eats me up and ends my existence...!!!
27 May 2023
Writing Challenge - C Quotes - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Rhymes Checked At: Rhyme Zone
Syllables Checked At: How Many Syllables
Categories:
grimacing, house, life, old, people,
Form:
Rhyme