Best Grimmer Poems
When gazing Beta Persei,
a star with many ghoulish names,
be wary of a winking eye,
for fluctuating flames
belie its evil aims.
Ancient mariners would watch with dread
and chant their prayers out loud,
when that “Eye in Medusa’s Severed Head”
was held by Perseus, proud,
high o’er the heathen crowd.
Sailors' hairs would stand and straighten
when that shady eye would shimmer.
The Hebrews shouted “Rosh ha Satan!”
when “The Head of Satan” grew grimmer
as "The Demon's Eye" got dimmer.
Dubbed “Ras al Ghul” in Arabic,
or “Algol” in the West,
“The Ghoul's Eye” plays a demon's trick,
resulting in unrest,
and astro-interest:
Riding high in Autumn skies,
guiding galleon ships,
then fades before their fearful eyes,
by mean of an eclipse
of stars in an ellipse.
Then three days hence this trick repeats
with pre-ordained precision --
dark demon light again depletes
when it winks with wild derision,
which begs a bad decision.
Oh Ras al-Ghul! Oh Ras al Ghul!
So near and yet so far --
do not take me for a fool
that fears "The Demon Star,"
“The Devil’s Demon Star.”
Yet many who think it mirth, or myth,
will double down with doubts,
when that wily eye would wink forthwith
they’ll watch their whereabouts.
Better watch your whereabouts!
For those Gorgon snakes give you the shakes,
and chill you to the bone.
And one wrong look is all it takes
to turn you into stone,
eternally alone.
Submitted June 27, 2020
Categories:
grimmer, myth, mythology, star,
Form:
Rhyme
…the seeds of neo-Nazism are germinating
Markus Nierth, former mayor of Tröglitz, Germany 2015
Germany’s rock candy windows and cookie like shingles make seeing the oven inside impossible. At first, the obsessive compulsive cleanliness of Nuremberg’s post-WWII streets is a joy. For a child of the melting pot, born after The Big One, it’s painful to recall the grimmer aspects of the Third Reich with their proposed eugenics. Nuremberg [rebuilt] roots in an elitist past hiding behind half-timbered houses of wattle and daub. Once the seat of the Holy Roman Empire seeped in power, then, a base for Hitler’s wunderkind rallies—now a soul-blighted bloom, a minor stop on the tourist trail.
Street walking pedestrians—the silent middle, staid, detached—stroll or bike along paths, immersed in white dreams. The pogroms of terror, stolen homes, and bridges made from Jewish Cemetery stones lie beneath layers of pristine paint and plaster. The Jews victimized for centuries, and the war trials, a mere subtext to tour guide chatter.
xenophobia
tamped down like an ash banked fire
waits to rise again
on a bellows breath of rage
spray painted on railroad cars
The site of my pilgrimage, The Palace of Justice—walled in panels of ashen mahogany—retains a dour mien. Judges, jurors and those to be tried, still use this hall. After-images of skeletal camp dweller and vain glorious generals rise wraith-like from the polished surfaces, paneling, pews, and copings. Greek God’s glower. A bronze crucifix castes judgment on all who pass: God fearing, or atheist. Justice is not present; horrors are not passed and conscience is now presented to the world as a fanatic in a suicide vest.
First Published in Artificium UK 2016
Categories:
grimmer, anxiety, racism, , atheist,
Form:
Haibun
O! Afterthought, Thou art a stern Taskmaster!
Thy Glare’s as gentle, as is Sun on Snow!
O! Heart! Would She have stayed, if I had asked her?
Admittedly, there’s no grimmer disaster,
Than sudden fury rupturing House and Row!
O! Afterthought, Thou art a stern Taskmaster!
Amid the clods and falling dust and plaster,
Will we know we are reaping what we Sow?
O! Heart! Would She have stayed, if I had asked her?
Aimed at my Heart: she ran faster, and faster!
(The storm outstripped, no matter where she’d go.)
O! Afterthought, Thou art a stern Taskmaster!
Dim hope! I pulled her under an alabaster
Fountain, round which the dusky funnel did flow,
O! Heart! Would She have stayed, if I had asked her?
When all had passed, still was the oleaster…
But she lay still, felled by a mighty blow!
O! Afterthought, Thou art a stern Taskmaster!
O! Heart! Would She have stayed, if I had asked her?
Categories:
grimmer, analogy, assonance, conflict, death,
Form:
Villanelle
Wait till next year is a common baseball cry
Disappointment abounds, as the fans say goodbye
Not every year's a winner
This one was even grimmer
Maybe next year we won't need another alibi
Categories:
grimmer, baseball,
Form:
Limerick
With ear to the ground
I felt a slight tremble,
like the stir of a whispering breeze
breaking its covenant of silence.
Stoically solemn hills
partially cloaked in roaming shadows,
the sun swiftly swimming,
across the edges of dawn.
Large crackling trunks,
with gnarled limbs pointedly misshapen,
standing huddled, accusingly transfixed
against a backdrop of mangled silver.
Clouds growing grimmer shades of pale,
as they swell with sadness,
to hang forlornly
upon realization’s icy horizon.
While glass houses of man’s dreams,
reflect the barrenness of fruition,
acid tears bleaching clarity;
Leaving hazy mists
for humans to draw lines of denial,
with fingers of blame.
And nature is naught but empty ark,
grounded upon the shores of our wasteland.
For we greedily drank the waters of her womb,
swallowing whole the seeds of needed fertility.
Now a fruitless humanity remains,
spitting only salt,
into her infinitely gaping wounds.
Categories:
grimmer, nature
Form:
Free verse
Sometimes you can hide yourself in a mirror
Not everything’s revealed within its glimmer
What you see is only your outer reflection
You’re only looking at lights reverse deflection
Your eye’s look forward but only see back
It’s truly an optical mirage, a reflective façade
Sometimes there are lies in the reflection
Walls that are built to provide you protection
Like makeup used to cover flaws and cracks
Hiding blemishes and limiting the attacks
Paradoxes of light, a brightness that is dimmer
Illuminating the truth, obscuring the grimmer
Sometimes the truth is only seen as fraud
When your outer skin hides what is inside
Mirrors are unique as they capture misdirection
Curved paths of light are only retinal projections
Images presented to the world may never lack
But they may not represent a faithful track
Sometimes a reflection is defined by the shimmers
Of the underlying image like candlelight that flickers
Giving up truths behind the lies seen by refraction
In a mirror’s view when you are open to inspection
Less defined by vision compared to the abstract
Of what is promised to your soul through God’s contract
Categories:
grimmer, character, identity, image,
Form:
Free verse
As dawn cracks the sky
and yellow light leaks through
The neighbourhood oracle begins her day,
sets out her stall on the corner near the station
"The end is coming"
The newspaper boy in his sister's scarf
snatched in haste too early this morning,
just before dawn,
yawning he peddles past the prophetess.
Her long hair writhes,
arms paddle the air
like a swimmer, only grimmer,
then, grinning at the boy on his bike.
"Ha you! Think you can fly!
Come to Jesus"
Over the Eastern roof tops
the dawn light gleaming
Mabel is born again,
beaming her snaggle tooth smile
"Joy today! The kingdom is come!
Repent!"
She has her reasons,
though parts of her story
her pain, her history, are a mystery
In all seasons, all weathers, every morning
while the sun slowly clambers
into the sky,
Mad Mabel, the local oracle
with twenty seven
assorted bags, eleven teeth,
and three bibles
is born again.
And we are all doomed.
Categories:
grimmer, life, people, social, light,
Form:
Free verse
Sails upon waters of shimmer
Blood red vibrance glowing dimmer
Twisted fate of Sanity increasingly slimmer
Lost Voice left alone to quietly simmer
Memories of faded emotions turning grimmer
Tears forever feed the flow of river
Sultry seduction of body ravished lay still of quiver
Icy words of truth yet spoken to deliver
Wraths of lusts stolen from the giver
Last words of love accompanying darkness of shiver
January 06, 2021
Last Love Letter
Contest entry submit
Categories:
grimmer, absence, dark, death, fate,
Form:
Rhyme
You know I'm heartless,
But yet you insist on me having a soul,
Even if it does exist,
It must be dim,
Never to glow,
Never to shine,
Or even shimmer,
Only to grow,
Much more grimmer,
Much more darker,
If you can see,
That your emotions,
Your love,
Can never change me.
Categories:
grimmer, lost love,
Form:
Free verse
A monarch butterfly flew past.
I wondered if it was the last
‘Cause they are disappearing fast;
Our world will be much grimmer.
For climate change and pesticides,
Plus loss of habitats besides
Means we are taking giant strides
To make our days much dimmer.
These orange beauties did appear
Like clockwork every single year.
Their loss should make us shed a tear,
With hope, a measly glimmer.
Categories:
grimmer, butterfly,
Form:
Rhyme
(Marilyn Monroe speaks.)
River of No Return
A desert is a bitter place.
There's something cruel in endless space:
it strips away the human scale.
I fear these winds that scour and chase
the vortices, and sting my face.
Good looks are fine, but all too frail -
ask Monty. Once you've lost your place,
you feel as if you've lost the race,
you're not what you're supposed to be.
I envy his consumption rate.
The one man in this battle-born state
in grimmer shape than even me.
Yes, Huston's the paternal kind,
but something's left him colourblind:
director's name on empty chair.
He's hollow, going through the motions,
painted ship on painted ocean:
you touch him, but he isn't there.
I married Miller on a whim.
If I could land a man like him,
I figured, I must be someone.
A man above me, older, smarter:
I didn't want a Jewish martyr.
Why lock the safe? The money's gone.
I come without a guarantee.
Men fool themselves - they don't need me.
I nixed on Arthur, fixed on Clark.
I've reached some kind of plateau now.
I'm sure of everything ... but how
to find my way back in the dark.
Categories:
grimmer, film,
Form:
Rhyme
Time's pages are turning; folks are churning
A better butter, worth bread's hard earning
Its unmistaken; bacon is burning
In thin, cheap, tin pans but we're all learning
Somehow, minimum wage is "all the rage"
Scavenge or squander, for this is the age
The century turns and the mass discerns
That our taxes smoke and our money burns
Hard work for many, enjoyment for few
Makes us unseen; faded! A weak, frail blue
Of collars while we passively earn our dollars
Of greens dimmer than wind's grimmer hollers
Don't stutter in the street, fluttering fleet!
Ban that bullying bureau thunder beat
And drum for the sum of a good , fair share
And a sequel of equal value and flair
Categories:
grimmer, satire, social, work,
Form:
Couplet
Marilyn Monroe discusses making
"The Misfits"
A desert is a bitter place.
There's something cruel in endless space:
it strips away the human scale.
I fear these winds that scour and chase
the vortices, and sting my face.
Good looks are fine, but all too frail -
ask Monty. Once you've lost your place,
you feel as if you've lost the race,
you're not what you're supposed to be.
I envy his consumption rate.
The one man in this battle-born state
in grimmer shape than even me.
Yes, Huston's the paternal kind,
but something's left him colorblind:
director's name on empty chair.
He's hollow, going through the motions,
painted ship on painted ocean:
you touch him, but he isn't there.
I married Miller on a whim.
If I could land a man like him,
I figured, I must be someone.
A man above me, older, smarter:
I didn't want a Jewish martyr.
Why lock the safe? The money's gone.
I come without a guarantee.
Men fool themselves - they don't need me.
I nixed on Arthur, fixed on Clark.
I've reached some kind of plateau now.
I'm sure of everything ... but how
to find my way back in the dark.
Categories:
grimmer, film,
Form:
Rhyme
My parties have become pretty lean
Ever since onset of Covid nineteen
No more passing around fine liquor
drinking alone, in a hall of mirrors
A new reality from behind thin veils
Masks and gloves, my themed masquerade
Radio on ‘Move Closer’ gives me shivers
smooching alone, in a hall of mirrors
I’m a one man band, on my record player
Listening to the sole voice, of Leo Sayer
Drowning in misery, a beached orca killer
singing drunkenly, in a hall of mirrors
Switch on the TV, looking for distraction
Silent movie on, some guy named Chaplin
Enough charades, echoes growing dimmer
talking to myself, in a hall of mirrors.
Something catches the corner of my eye
A headline in a newspaper, lying nearby
Vaccine found, life’s suddenly less grimmer
Praying on my knees, to broken mirrors.
PARTY FOLK Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Julia Ward
28/12/2020
Categories:
grimmer, allegory, allusion, lonely,
Form:
Rhyme
The cactus is a joyless plant
which to dry slopes inclines,
and those who would engage with it
are sure to feel its spines.
But once in every year or two,
the cactus brings forth fruits:
and then its golden succulence
its grimmer self confutes.
Before the "chumba" pine swells up,
the cactus flames in flower,
and I would brave its fiercest staves,
to see it in that hour!
Categories:
grimmer, romantic,
Form:
Quatrain