Best Gulping Poems
As dark canvas unfurls bit by bit
Randomly gulping down acrylic paints of dusk
To satisfy his own thirst, not for long, to sprawl
Into a magical cosmos - flapping his dark wings atop
Swirling soft fair clouds that rock and roll
Through gray-black, myriad dazzling stars so
Idyllic, and artistically spilt sparkling stardust
Charm the sky as if shiny pompoms and buttons;
Night sky lights up my gloomy mind:
In its artsy glory, I savour a tick of tranquil clock;
Glowing bright, stars and moon transmit rays of
Harmony. Aw! tiny drops of opals and diamonds
Thrown arbitrarily at pitch-dark canvas as if
Showcasing splash liquid art - so bright and brilliant;
Knitting a charcoal-black fabric of captivating stars and moon,
Yay! our night sky is shining, inspiring my bardic pupils.
Date: 01/13/2023
Lipogram Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
A dark angel writes in the air,
“There will be no tomorrow for you.”
Then puffs of shiny cloud ebb,
Ebony night surrounds me.
I tremble in fear.
I hover between now and never,
as if I'm traversing a rough river
on one bank: life, on the other: death.
I feel an ebbing of nothingness,
like gulping down bad breath,
or gasping in asphyxia,
between a being and non-being,
sandwiched between heaven and hell.
Which way must I go?
Lord make the right choice for me,
for I tremble in fear.
How oft had I been told,
hell is an illusion, don't believe!
Now it seems like reality and I fear.
I see my past, its rights and wrongs,
a sort of blind imbalance,
not a hair is lost.
Where is the illusion now?
Or worse is it delusion and regret,
that I could have achieved much more?
Thus I tremble in fear.
Spirals of fog surround me,
whirls of fatal mists envelop me,
a long dark tunnel with a faint light ahead.
But what lies at the end?
An ephemeral awakening or an eternal damnation?
What weapons are left for such a fight?
I can only give my soul up and pray:
O Lord, I trust in Thee.
I fear no more.
Have you ever met those kind of blokes who get upon your nerve,
when they quote continual references that most think should deserve
a threatening confrontation that if they make that quote again,
then the punishment that’s handed out will give them heaps of pain.
A gang of us were working down along the Main Drain stream,
clearing blackberries and willows on a governmental scheme,
and as usual on a Monday morn, weekend glitches are highlighted,
that are full of doom and gloom, and mostly are ‘beer blighted.’
For Clancy, Joe and me, we sort of blessed the doom and gloom,
as it transgressed into humour, and so there wasn’t any room,
for the likes of workmate Charlie who only saw a brighter side,
when there wasn’t any bright side; just a great gloomy divide.
Charlie is the eternal optimist with no matter what is said
in the ghastliest of circumstance even if someone was dead,
and Charlie only had one quote that we’re sure he did rehearse,
and so we heard it every time ‘It could have been much worse.’
So after work one evening in the pub we had some beers,
with ‘it could have been much worse,’ still ringing loudly in our ears,
and with Charlie being absent we devised a cunning plan,
to rid him of that bloody quote and then praying that we can.
We thought that as a perfect subject we would use our good mate Ted,
in a steamy sordid untrue yarn to get inside of Charlie’s head,
and have him shaking in his bootstraps, plus gulping in his throat,
to avoid us hearing one more time, his annoying bloody quote.
And so ‘it could have been much worse’ is about to get the chop,
as we cut and piled the prickly canes, of a large blackberry crop,
so when the time was ready, with Charlie well within ear shot,
Joe babbled out the sordid tale that was really ‘Tommyrot.’
“Did you hear about our old mate Ted, and what went on last night?
He caught his wife with Jimmy Hale, and there was a shocking fight;
he shot ‘em both and then himself!” But Charlie stayed quite calm but terse,
as he rolled a smoke and muttered out, “It could have been much worse.”
“Much worse!” We squawked as one... “How can it be worse than that?”
And the answer Charlie gave us… well it really knocked us flat,
after dragging on his cigarette, he sniffed and quietly said,
“If it had have been the night before, it’s me who would be dead.”
gulping for air
when minnows swim
beyond their depth
-----------------------
A Fish Haiku Contest
Hosted by Mick Talbot
Placed 3rd
19th April 2018
bird songs drift through the tall Autumn trees and
photographs are floating in my mind and conversations echo
in the deep, crumbling amber gold leaves falling
an old man with a walker gets into a car with gnarled hands that I love
blanket on lap magnifying glass words blurred meaningless
raging river view with cold waves crashing, remember the pier Grandpa
ahead is the endless winding road to nowhere
I miss you most of all Grandpa when Autumn leaves start to fall
and horses gallop in the changing fields, wild and free
bird feeder on the deck, tweet and twitter, twitter,
staring for hours, Grandpa where did you go a little boy fishing off a pier
playing with your leaping dog hospital bed in living room
at the dining room table cannot hold the fork let me help you Grandpa
sparkling sun on the water kids jumping off dock fishing
long ago echoes falling red leaves... Grandpa Grandpa
water dripping, oh see the rain on the window blurred fragments fall apart
gulping for air cannot breathe the birds are at the bird feeder singing
darkness and silence peacefulness glittering sun
yes Lord I am ready . . . .
empty hospital bed empty wheelchair girl weeping at the window
I miss you most of all Grandpa when Autumn leaves start to fall
and horses gallop in the changing fields, wild and free
oh every bird song drifting whispers to me of you
_____________________________
April 26, 2016
Poetry/Free Verse/Grandpa's Autumn
Copyright Protected, ID 16-782-873-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Inspired by the song:
Autumn Leaves, by Natalie Cole
For the contest, Golden Oldies, #2
sponsor, Teppo Gren
Second Place
Maze
Oh my Heart, why do you seek
the ecstasy of Eden's garden
when love is a daunting puzzle.
Woe is you, you fool;
for you dare to travail
through its sinuous paths
filled with deception and treachery
... ruled by a sweet-talking, sensuous
serpent, sinfully seductive
with his cajoling, forked tongue,
promising every heavenly delight.
Greedily gulping wine-filled songs,
frenetically feeding on empty poetry,
you’re blindfolded and lost
on a dead-end street,
bumping against a wall
of steel gray misery,
imprisoning your soul and
turning your hopes and dreams
into doubt, desperation, and despair.
Oh my Heart, you’re trapped,
suspended in a twisting maze...
of unrequited, lethal love.
Contest: Maze - 10 Word Challenge Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Dear Heart
Date: 06-23-2020
Placement: 4th
Around the corner and half a block away, the flavor would grab me, tie me up to some irresistible force, then drag my nose to the source of its home. The aroma that wafted in the air and up my whiffer was sweet and warm - rich with orchards of deliciousness and cascading with the buttery peachy-ness of what was to come. It knocked all other thoughts out of my realm and led me down a path of complete submission - surrendering like the energy of cold water on a hot skillet. With each step bringing me closer, my musing would swirl with the anticipation of that first ultra-luscious, gratifying juicy bite - the one that ever so longingly and lovingly would delightfully roll around on every palate of my watering mouth and lingering tongue only to succumb to gulping down the first chunk.
From the flour and water and salt
Her timeworn hands kneaded magic
A mystical mixture of love and fruit to concoct-
A pinch of this and that, nothing formally systematic.
This masterpiece was an untold legend that "rocked"
The socks off anyone and even rival the "Titanic"!
Her ritual was simple and deep rooted
As uncomplicated as a baby's grin.
"Easy as Pie" she mooted
And laughed while she hummed all the while.
Layering the rich sheets of goodness in a pan
From pie dough to peaches to butter and sugar
There was nothing in this world so simple or better than
My Aunt Grace's Peach Cobbler!
I thought I’d invite toddlers for tea,
so my own would stay out of my hair.
They would sit and sip so daintily,
Follow rules, and play games so fair.
Smile ever sweet, use the word please
Say thank you, ma’am, and stay on their chairs.
Be careful with my fine china, says me.
They laugh, they snort, and they wiggle like hares.
They dive off the couch, with giggles of glee.
They land heaped together, gulping in air.
Chairs in a pile at the bottom of the stairs,
Everything in sight has been licked by Lee,
Chairs in a heap at the bottom of stairs,
Strange things are happening, how can this be?
I think I have been invaded by bears!
Intermingled threads of my fantasies pour
from the ink of my love on the bare soul
of the letter I write for you, my beloved
The windowpane sparkles moonlit dreams
And I submerge into my visions of you
You, my moon bound to your services
Make me wonder how I would write
All the love-soaked words I've never said
I had questions that submerged in tides
Propelled by divine celestial waves
I forgot to savor the fragrance of lilies
That intertwine into my desolate bed stand
Perhaps you will be gulping your tea
When this letter relishes the touch
Of your frozen fingers looking for warmth
You might inhale the aroma of my love
Dripped in my waxing and waning hopes
Rosy shades of mellowed sunrise
Prompt my hopes to flutter and fly
Away to a land where you reside
I have spent last night tossing them
In solicitude of your awaited letter
My feet took a hundred strides
to the door that I opened warily
I await your reply to quench my love
I am the sun that follows her moon
Eclipsed by unending galactic cycles
Let me drape myself in your love
Let your letter wait at the corner
Until I've told you my anxiety faded away
I've been onlooking the desert roads
Oh should I merge into them in daylight
To kiss the path your letter traverses
This time I hope it remembers at last
My name and address on this frayed street
Let it bring to me your smooth embrace
The sun, exhausted of the chase for moon
Over these centuries, awaits the end of eclipse
Drenched in my fears I whisper at sunset,
"Let my love engulf me in soothing waves"
....The sun and the moon in a golden Aurora, unite,
Your letter arrives before you colored in lilac twilight.
*A tribute to the tumultuous emotions of a soldier's wife*
May 26, 2020
The Sun And The Moon Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke
~~Premiere Contest Winner: 4th Place
BRIAN'S CHOICE V,any form,any theme Contest
~~Winner: First Place
My solitary self was needing space
Fortunately know just the place
Walking briskly soon be there
Gulping breath of pure fresh air.
Winding path, know it well
Soon be in heaven away from hell
Hill is steep with twists and turns
Far away from worldly concerns.
Puffing, panting pinnacle reached
Now all worries can be unleashed
Under dome of azure blue sky
White clouds sail, I softly sigh.
Winding path a simple test
Knowledge eventually will manifest
Golden time with vast universe
Doubt swept away from things adverse.
''W'' Poetry Contest
Winding
Sponsored
by:
Constance La France
24/11/2021
For night long
No sleep came
But song and song and song
Melting in the candles' flame
Of thought, fore I wrote them all
That with silvern flashes broke
The net and swam, and swam, and swam
In a pool gulping words, then choke
Upon the imagery of the lamb
Bleating where no shepherd hears it call.
I reeled them out and in again
Each rhyme a little hook
While the boat throbs with the strain
Of waves opening like a book.
Can you see my freckled sea
In the night all night long
My sleep tortured by a song
Mommy! Daddy! Mommy! Daddy! The screams are getting louder
There is gulping now; this is sob-crying.
“I can’t take much more of this!” Daddy says, shoving his head under a pillow.
As if I can!
I get up and go in there, knowing I will probably be staying.
So, I grab my pillow on the way out.
She is four, my youngest, and terrified.
“He is….he said…he ……” She cannot gulp quickly enough.
I sit with her and begin to pat her back. You are okay, I say.
She begins to settle down. Suddenly she sits up and says “Wait!”
I am listening.
“He says his name is Poindexter!”
I am stunned. I had a monster under my bed once upon a time.
His name was Poindexter.
After she gets to sleep I take a peek under there.
Poindexter grins at me. “I’m baaaaaaaaaaaaaack!” he says.
I roll my eyes.
Shh! Babies are sleeping Dorie said.
Slumbering in dreamland with her Uncle Fred
Tummies full of dolly potatoes, they are amply fed
Especially after gulping down cinnamon bread
Two dreaming of a trip on an African bobsled
Cozily cuddled up in a rocking chair bed.
One baby dolly in a nightshirt made by Grandpa Ed.
All three in dreamland where only angels tread.
Written: October 19, 2023, For Tania Kitchen Spooky Halloween Contest
___________________________________
Hope is buried, gulping Satan of the Night.
Its odd, dreadful beats drove in schizo sight.
Sweet dread awaits the fair-headed, awful stride.
As fear drew closer, it heard the sad words abide.
They were expressionless, their bodies obeying.
Love, it's ignored—bleeding hearts break, swaying.
They recall dread and can tell a horrific story well.
A red-hot sword could lure Satan from his shell.
Haunting, poltergeists, and zombies are the core
At Halloween, they shine as murderers may abhor.
Undermining existence in horror's catacombs
Blood and mayhem are the spooky twin gnomes.
Become a demon, and I'll stay at Dracula castle.
Awaken afraid from a lucid state, scared of hassle.
Amidst a Halloween party, I was stuck in despair.
Fear remains upon me after a spooky nightmare.
There was a gentle breeze on this glistening moon-filled night.
An unknown stranger in the shadow of an oak gave me a fright.
When he turned, I could see he was male, in a bit of light.
He had a nervous cough that was ungodly, not quite right.
We were the only two out here, in the country as far as I knew.
I had chosen this spot in the woods, where the wind always blew.
It was usually secluded, not on my land, but who knew?
Was he wearing camo? I was feeling a bit threatened too.
Suddenly his cough became hacking, and he sounded like a boy.
Not a man at all, which gave my nervous heart a tiny bit of joy.
His vulnerability, made him a bit less frightening to me.
I asked if he was okay. He ventured closer, so I could see.
I could see he was cold, and some weird motherly instinct kicked in.
Invited him closer. He came to my campfire – young boy named Finn.
I recognized him as a child of Sara and Bill’s up the road.
I asked if he wanted to talk and his words quickly explode.
He had a fight with his father, and got no help from his mother.
He was gulping now, trying to contain himself somehow or another.
After the story, I told him that things would get better soon.
Then I took him home, so I could relax again, and get back to my moon.