Best Gyroscope Poems
I know a scamp who chortles frabjously
as in the springtime galumphing he goes.
And just to show how wacky he can be,
he makes his tongue point up to touch his nose!
He has no wicked claws or eyes with flame
to match those of the manxome Jabberwock.
But just beware his jaws. Although he’s tame,
he can’t be stopped once he begins to talk!
I vouch that he can jabber endlessly
and have me at the end of my short rope.
My ears just might fall off one day, for he
gyres gibberish just like a gyroscope.
I dub my beamish grandson “Jabberwack”
for how he acts and how he loves to yak!
For Debbie Guzzi's "Go Ask Alice" Contest
SATURN - GOD’S FAVORITE
This floating sovereign rules her black see *
Like an Inquisition bishop - perfect : accepts no plea
No argument no competition,
Watching me watching her in adoration,
Her cold unblinking eye
Reigning the black and silent sky.
Saturn, Goddess of bountiful harvests, of you alone
Unreachable, O favorite of the Lord, in brilliant isolation,
Of beauty pristine and colder than ice,
Is it said * that God doesn’t play dice,
But His spinning gyroscope globe He enjoys :
God’s spinning top - the best of toys.
O bisque queen, gem with halo rings,
Like a dove with wide-spread wings,
Hover like the Holy Spirit, float on the inky blackness,
Send me a message to fill my darkness.
Long in the ether your far-light lingers on high
Before it is allowed to reach my eye;
O Majesty remote cold and beautiful,
Send me the vision of heavenly beauty bountiful.
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Notes
Beauty turns me on.
Anyone who has seen the planet Saturn even in a small
telescope cannot fail to be awed by the beauty of the planet.
* A "see" is the territory ruled by a bishop
* The saying “God does not play dice” is accredited to Albert Einstein,
when explaining the workings of the universe.
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Do not mock
the traveler who starts out late
on her journey. She carries
the burden of decades
and the weight of missed opportunities.
Her first step
is as significant as yours was,
but it costs her more courage
to challenge her beliefs
about who she is: it calls
her entire life into question,
and she wonders
whether it is already too late.
But do not pity her, either.
Cheer her on in her quest.
Tell her that growing
is brave and beautiful,
and that it is never
too late.
From my new collection "The Eden of Perhaps" (Spartan Press 2020)
First published in Gyroscope Review, Fall 2019
Orange yellow gyroscope
Like hovering above nowhere
Watching moving obstacles
Adjusting to wind gusts
Looking like it
Would pack a punch
Ever so carefully
It maneuvers to get
To the entrance
The hole in the vent
Has been blocked
By some monster
Called human but
It finds a way round
And enters into
Its hideaway.
From the still blue center, the motion starts.
A multilayered gyroscope turning.
Interconnected, meshing clockwork parts,
Within, sacred white fire is blossoming.
Smooth hand circles driving arms swinging free,
Shoulders relaxed, rotate forward and back,
Trace three-dimensional infinity.
Every sinew not involved, loose and slack.
Countertwist rotation, thrust straight behind.
Muscle springs compress, explode, power grows.
Whipcrack diamondback wriggles down my spine
Through circling legs, tail snaps through the toes.
Buddha belly, loose jelly, let it flow.
Feel the liberated charge course through me.
Head up, relax, fighting oneself is slow.
A clear mind, a fluid efficiency.
Mesomorphic paintbrushes stroke the trail;
Feet dance through rocks and bushes as I sail.
3/13/16
winds whirling clouds about
within the confines of this mind
stirred emotions in motion
stagnant waters notwithstanding
spinning all perspectives askew
after the pub crawl
where will we land
if not by the sea
practicing our butterfly stroke
under a monarch moon
AP: 2nd place 2023, Honorable Mention 2023
The sea, a froth of blue, had in the night
erupted, and it now was brutally
attacking, rising up with all its might
against a lonely house too dim to see
inside the mist enveloping the shore
if not for the bright glow that it sent out
to ships, which as they met the waters’ roar,
were like small toy boats being cast about.
The solitary lighthouse, standing tall,
would not relinquish its strong light of hope.
Those waves could rage and on that building fall
with fury, writhing like a gyroscope,
but nature would restore its calm again
before the lighthouse let its beacon wane.
Written July 23, 2017 for the Lighthouse Contest of Eve Roper
A tragic hero in the perennial play
here tomorrow, gone today
A mere shadow in the Western sky
such a long sojourn but a brief
goodbye,
The treetops whisk the opaque planetarium
as the poignant gyroscope rotates into
delirium,
Birds turn South, leaves turn red
like a flame that burns bright before growing
dead,
A call out, among the torrent
lost in the waves, wind, and
current
The cacophony has been muted
a silent status quo has been rooted,
What little remains for the stranded
lost and alone,
exploited and branded.
Restless slumber disturbs the lady; swift thoughts float
Like yachts silently sailing by the grand keynote
After the short, hot night of summer's compact dreams
Active fluid inferior frontal gyrus streams
Unsettled speculation ends when sudden beams~
Dawn arises upon angel wings of soft white
Offers reflection of topics on which to write
Deep in grooves seeking spiritually nonfinite
Awaiting the rising of a bright fireball sun
Expressions imprinted released outward for fun
Or curtail humor get ready my son much done
That opens a new summer day to fulfill all
Spirit filled day open to wonder what might fall
Sweet angels surround, lift, caress, remove pitfalls
As the sun arises gold prophesying hope
Let hope radiate out full like a kaleidoscope
The language bring communion like a gyroscope
Angels guard precious souls 'til they arrive home
After the short, hot night of summer's compact dreams
Dawn arises upon angel wings of soft white
Awaiting the rising of a bright fireball sun
That opens a new summer day to fulfill all
The hot sun arises gold prophesying hope
Angels guard precious souls 'til they arrive home
finis'
Crown of Couplets contest sponsored by Catie Lindsey
Written: July 05, 2016
We mastered flame and light
Curiosity the elixir of life
We go where we choose
Life like a poem in creation
Fluid like a verb
Like the night sky it shimmers
A diamond falling as rain on Saturn
Our futures uncertain
Minds forever pondering origins
A universe with boundless imagination
Like Saturn is life
A dance wild and free
spinning rings through shadows
Light endlessly skipping
Through infinite space
Igniting a burning
Beginning of passion life will resonate
Life like a wheel on a gyroscope
Balance created by motion
It stands on a wire....
Japan Skytree 2080ft
They began by digging down
So two directions could be
built at once
Premade sections built on the
ground
Scaffolding added with
netting surround
to prevent anything falling down
Each section craned into position
Above the Load a gyroscope
preventing mid~air transition
Made of tubes angled for strength
Structural integrity
An architect's Dream
The engineer's Mission
On reaching the top 2 cranes
to be lowered
from atop this ingenious free~standing Tower
smaller cranes hoisted to perform this function
Each crane smaller 'till all
were grounded
The last of which the final
stage
Dismantled and carried down
in an elevator
Such ingenuity is characteristic of
Japanese engineering behaviour
Completed in a narrow triangled arena
It stands
World Tallest Free~standing
Communications Tower
The tug of ellipses
measures our weight
in the vivid gyroscope
clustered by gases
noble cloaked in
the curtain
to benefit from the
necessary intrusion
of thought coercion
until no fool or genius
questions the majesty
around us
or the ineligibility
of humans to pass
themselves off as
dabbling masters of
gods behind dangled
talisman logic.
Blue Jay
I cupped the fallen fledgling in my palm,
And unwittingly, caused the neck
To retract the mere measure as had
Raised the hand.
Lowering the foundling, the head rose.
Really? I continued. Down, up;
Extend, retract, eyes fixed
Always at the horizon.
Was it the avian gyroscope
Tacking as if to turbulence,
Or since motion can betray
Location - best feign frozen?
(Once they mused about millennia hence
But scarcely would’ve thought that whence
The confluence of Saurian and Simian roar
Could ever have writ so poorly a score
As has devolved to: cheep; rap nonsense)
I shall call you Icarus for impetuousness
Has got you to ground; like your hapless
Namesake, he from tempting high C,
You, before finding your key.
Copyright Paul Thomson 2018
From volcano's peak
to dungeons of despair
Scream to a stop, gyroscope of emotions
for you are ... not there
On my way back home
Whilst walking the straight clearing
Made by trampling over grass
By human feet, creating a path without greens.
I walked this way many times already,
And many times
I came back home safe.
I thank my ancestors for making a path.
Its kept clear, flowers will not bloom
Not on that pathway,
Nor will shrubs and bushes
Scratch my legs.
I love this path!
My legs! It bleeds from four deep and small holes!
Blasted snake! Really had to walk my way!
I hear the crows loud and clear
While in my head, a Gyroscope that lost its spin.
I never realized
That I stepped on a snake’s tail.
It never hurts to be cautious and not complacent on things that are long before existing and known.