Best Hairpin Poems
Pick a Title – Wild Is the Night – Sponsor: Edward Ibeh 1-9-25
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Wild Is the Night
Night wakes
In atonality of imploding infernos
Stretches,
Tossing matted tresses,
Throws off serene quilts
Of winter’s full golden moonlight
To thrash about with bare feet
On icy floors,
Tripping over the remains of dawn
Where shreds of crumpled thoughts,
Like shards of icy hailstones,
Claw at windowpanes
Clothed in nakedness.
Night shivers
As jumbled fangs of hunger
Rattle chimes and unbroken stares
When gusts of darkness ravage lullabies,
Gnaw on jawbones of savaged dreamscapes,
To race through hairpin curls of obsession
Night huddles
In tempests of dead ends,
Decorated by fixations,
By graffiti of the grotesque,
Where despair masquerades in cyclones of deception,
Storms of mania as solutions.
Whispers of wind driven earworms hatch,
Step in front of Heaven’s voice,
Cutting into Heaven’s heart
With blades of infected gales;
As the blood of angels stains doves
Anxiety floods in downpours
When the litany of the hours tosses and turns
In explosions of black noise;
Wild night paces in midnight,
Caught by scurrying tornedos,
Waiting
For the first light of resurrection.
Dear All
Hot today. Hired a car. Took to hills. Travelled far.
Narrow road. Never ends. Sweat on wheel. Hairpin bends.
Glanced at temp. Glanced at fuel. Aircon found. Turned to cool.
Island sun. Not like ours. Single track. Other cars.
Parked at top. Lovely sight. Valleys. Vineyards. Left and right.
Church looks out. Opened door. Spanish writing. Walls and floor.
Candle lit. Sat for prayer. Silence deep. Everywhere.
Dark and cool. Warm in feel. Off The Strip. Life here's real.
Gary & Ann
X
Little blades of grass touching my naked feet
Oh, the soft pleasant touch, the trodden path
I am treading again; though this is my first
Venture, my maiden hike towards the peak
The great heights of the neighbouring mountains!
Have you ever lost yourself in the benumbing wilderness?
Have you ever heard the silent call of the Titans, metamorphosed
Into rocks? Little nameless flowers swaying their heads
In an enchanted dance; the chill in the air
Gently touching my mortal body, making a grand statement
“If the heaven exists anywhere, it’s here, it’s absolutely here”
The eternal path leads you from crag to crag, from bends to bends
Like a child of nature I play hide and seek with the impish fountains
And waterfalls, oh how majestically they cascade down
On the wings of wild butterflies,
Swiftly hiding
Into impregnable gorges
The hairpin bends
Beckons
Oh, the wider stretch again
Looming, there is before, the endless and bottomless
Gulf of the sky, kissed benevolently by the sunny morning
High and hoary oaks and pines
Standing on both sides like insomniac sentries
The intolerable ache, nearly paralysed feet
One
Step
Forward, another
One
Inflated lungs
Is it the end of the road?
Oh, god, at last, yeah, at last
I am on top
I am looking beneath towards the inviting clouds
My eagle soul outstretches its wings
The sky kisses my forehead like my mother
17.09.2014
Contest: Pinnacle
We made a trip to town today
And took West Mountain Road.
My friend and I prefer that way
Back there, where time has slowed.
We drove past farms in rolling hills
Where cattle grazed in shade
The creek we crossed wore summer frills
A flowery masquerade
Huge towering trees were thick as thieves
Which hid us from the sun
Still on occasion, through the leaves
He'd tag us on the run
"round hairpin curves, slowed to a crawl
As slow as one would walk
Protected by an old stone wall
Ignored by squirrel and hawk
We reached the summit way too soon
Rewarded by the view
The height and beauty made us swoon
One reason most eschew
It was a roller-coaster ride
We marveled at our luck
A quick descent down the backside
Wind swirling in the truck
We coasted all the way downtown
To shop and grab a snack
Then raced before the sun went down
To take West Mountain Road back.
By Daniel Turner
DOWN A STORM DRAIN GONE FOREVER.
There was once a wicked, jealous old human,
Who lived in a house down the lane,
Not far from us,
Ugly and mean sounding, couldn’t tell
If man or woman,
Was narky to the neighborhoods children,
Including me,
We discovered this human was woman with
One large bosom!
She lived on her own, no children or husband,
Or even a pet,
She always wore the same apron, her hands always
Hidden in this grubby apron,
My friends decided on a bet,
That she had a gun and would should shoot,
Us all dead
Why else would she always keep her hands
In her apron we said!
We could never have guessed the truth
About this apron.
One day we saw two young girls laughing at her
She was furious, fiddled in her apron
And immediately,
Upon doing this, the girls fell, and each
Broke a leg!
We couldn’t believe what we had seen, I noticed a
Hairpin on the path, going back, very sharp,
And then another and another,
Each one, a different color.
Obviously someone was throwing the
Used pins away,
In a very careless way!
I have to find out what is in her apron pocket,
I said to my friends, so early the next day,
We all met
Behind her house, I was chosen to be
The pickpocket,
So I crept along the bushes outside her house
Waiting for her to have her afternoon snooze,
I saw a locket around her neck which was open
And from it peeped bright colored
Hairpins, she was asleep,
With one eye open, I thought I could see
Her eye socket!
Terrified I stretched out my hand, put it gently
Into her apron pocket,
And pulled out a tattered faceless little doll,
Home made from potato sackcloth,
A voodoo doll, screamed James,
He was certainly not wrong for he played
A great deal of TV horror games!
She obviously pricked the voodoo doll
With colored pins,
Every time someone annoyed her, she would one
Day pay for her sins!
As quickly as we could we ran to the nearest drain
Down the street and dropped it in, it fell silently
And disappeared, gone forever,
That woman was not sane!
The next day early we walked towards her house,
The house was empty and the horrid old witch gone,
We breathed a sigh of relief as we watched
A new morning dawn!
Contest: Down a storm drain, gone forever,
Sponsor: Eve Roper
Date entered: 2019/03/02
You are still awake
I’m looking at your windows
You know,
Never before have I waited
For the lights to go out
In other apartments
And given much thought
To this dazzling sensation
Or taken time to enjoy
The delightful sight
Of trifles left behind
On the bedside table…
Your hairpin…
The wrinkled pillows
Scattered in bed
The scent
Reminding me
Of the sighs and screams
Little swans your hands made
Squeezing the sheets
Never have I waited
For the lights to go out
In apartments next to yours
But tonight
Tonight I’m waiting
Feeling wonderful already
I need you tonight
I need you forever
I love you
You know, there are times in life
When everything becomes important
Every detail, every tremble
I don’t know why
But these moments now
Are those moments
You mean so much to me
And I enjoy every moment
Spent with you
I love you
Pages I open each day
Under the sun that burns the hay
Verses I read and pray
Over a bun of bread I lay
Memories written below my chest
Strokes of ink I wrest
Olives and thymes of yesteryears
My childhood grinds with tears
Cabinet I saved and sweep
Drawer I loved and keep
My mother's pictures that flash
My heart that blink and blush
Her words enter my mind
Without her hairpin that shows and bind
Her spirit lingers, not hide
Soul that triggers, not glide
A book over my head
On Mother's Day I spread
End of Spring that chide
Mothers of the world I pride
Across the waters I sail
Billions of gallons I pail
Boating on a stormy sea
Smiling with endless glee
She made me strong all along
A spirit who stayed not so long
Now I am alone
But she made me stronger than a bone
A book on my lap
Wet and soaked by waters of gap
Dripping with thoughts of sap
Bathing me in a nap
One book is good enough
To help me grow, not huff
A pound of dry book I met
A thousand pound worth when wet
Her diary...
Happy Mother's Day! :)
(Prosebite)
Went out today for a drive with a friend
We'll go into the hills up to heaven he said,
Round hairpin bends,o'er hill and dale we sped
When I looked down the drop did I dread.
Through villages we sped, though not too fast,
That we couldn't admire the places we passed.
Then by and by we came up to our first stop,
T'was indeed heavenly, A herbalists shop.
We had peppermint tea and carrot cake,
I even got something for my earache.
Pano Akourdhalia was where we stopped,
Carolines Garden, the place where we shopped.
Soon this tranquil rest came to an end,
Off to Polis, we sped with our friend.
Lunch time came and found us there,
In a quaint little cafe behind the town square.
At the Art Cafe where Tina Tamamounas, our hostess,
Our hunger did placate with village salad and lasagne.
Finished off with tea and 'man' coffee and my Cyprus brew,
When hungry, it is a place we highly recommend to you.
The journey home passed without event,
A lovely day out and we all were spent.
I was hopelessly smitten in English class,
By this girl with a boyfriend, a challenging impasse.
She had long shiny locks, the color of auburn,
And the curves of a Ferrari, in a hairpin turn.
To win her away from that boyfriend's lair,
Took getting noticed, to have even a prayer.
A skateboard handstand, provided exposure,
Upside down I zoomed by, as she search four-leaf clovers.
When her best girlfriend, provided the news,
My gorgeous sweet red head, now sung the blues.
That she and that fellow, a thing in the past,
One phone call and BAM, we're dating at last!
Now on to her best features, the theme of this prose,
And the reason I'd eventually ultimately propose.
Then move her from one place to another eight times,
As the wife of a Sailor, a career Navy wife.
Her full lips frame a gorgeous, welcoming smile,
Forty years now, I’ve certainly come to admire.
Conveying kindness, but warning all men,
She’s spoken for, and quite happily taken.
Her most attractive feature has always been clear,
Her warmth and genuinely pleasant demeanor.
She’s a funny gal, and awfully smart,
Four decades of marriage, to my high school sweetheart!
A meandering stretch of twenty miles
from hip Cross Village to Harbor Springs,
through hairpin turns and roller coaster dips,
we, the lovers of the lovely
travel through Michigan’s Tunnel of Trees.
Up ahead a windward wall gives way to sunlit stage.
We stop and walk to precipice-edge of crumbling sand
for a Lake Michigan show, 300 feet below-
the hazy blue sky melting into cobalt green sea,
the frothy-white waves kissing pristine beach.
Through sylvan cathedral of maple and oak
we journey on to the bucolic village of Good Hart
where we can meditate at St. Ignatius,
tie the knot at Northern Nuptials,
and enjoy homemade goodies at General Store.
On this, the second week of May,
through flickering aperture of wind blown leaves
dappled light illumines millions of trillium flowers
that carpet earthen floor to caress the frazzled essence
of both fallen tree and traveler in the Tunnel of Trees.
I love the clean air, breathe the clean air,
I hunt the clean air in the race,
I want that distance between me and the field,
When they are all up for the chase,
Around the hairpin, through the chicane,
Stuck in the smallest tight fight in the groove,
And we all hop the kerb as we smoke up the tyres,
And we spin, twist and slide on the move,
Trying not to T-bone, not throw a belt,
Threading the car like a pin in top gear,
All cherishing the roar going down the main straight,
As the crowd all let out a cheer.
I love the power of the drums as cylinders dance,
I love the explosion of the wheel on the tar,
I love the thrill of the moment winning the race,
When I race everyone else in my car.
This is in no way my poem, I'm not trying to take any credit for it.
I saw it on YouTube performed by Neil Hilborn.
The first time I saw her, everything in my head went quiet.
All the ticks, all the constantly refreshing images just disappeared.
When you have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, you don't really get quiet moments.
Even in bed, I'm thinking "Did I lock the door? Yes. Did I wash my hands? Yes. Did I lock the door? Yes. Did I wash my hands? Yes." When I saw her, the only thing I could think about was the hairpin curve of her lips, or the eyelash on her cheek-
the eyelash on her cheek-
the eyelash on her cheek.
I knew I had to talk to her.
I asked her out 6 times in 30 seconds, she said yes after the third one but none of them felt right so I had to keep going.
On our first date, I spent more time organizing my meal by color than I did eating, or f*cking, talking to her. But she loved it.
She loved that I had to kiss her goodbye 16 times, or 24 times if it was Wednesday.
She loved it took me forever to walk home because there are lots of cracks in our sidewalk.
When we moved in together, she said she felt safe, like no one would ever rob us, because I definitely locked the door 18 times. I'd always watch her mouth when she talked-
when she talked-
when she talked-
when she talked-
when she talked.
When she said she loved me, her mouth would curl up at the edges.
At night, she'd lay in bed and watch me turn the lights on and off and on and off and on and off and on and off and on and off and on and off. She'd close her eyes, and imagine the days and nights were just passing in front of her. Some mornings, I'd start kissing her goodbye but she would just leave because I was making her late for work.
When I stopped at a crack in the sidewalk she just kept walking. When she said she loved me, her mouth was a straight line. She told me I was taking up too much of her time. Last week, she started sleeping at her mother's place. She told me that she shouldn't've let me get so attached to her. That this whole thing was a mistake, but how can it be a mistake that I don't have to wash my hands after I touch her? Love is not a mistake, it's not fair that she can run away from this and I just can't! I can't go out and find someone new, because I always think of her. (read next poem for ending)
Cul-de-Sac
Quick steps slow to hesitate
The sudden curve of a straight white line
Into the mists of detour
Lined with haunting facades
Of blurred addresses
And faded street signs
Where echoes of curiosity bluster -
Magic or madness -
In proverbs of warning about blind alleys -
Mayhem or mystic -
Bending the lane
Like the nautilus inner ear
A flat arc where light searches
For the sacred
Past faceless abodes lining this curlicue
With a come-on to remain
Yet the heart knows to follow
The flamboyant contours,
Like angel’s wings,
Into the loop – not a dead end
But a recoiling boomerang
Leaving knots of doubt behind
Arms open wide to inquisitive's marathon
Then ride the hairpin rail out of gossamer inkiness
Leaving behind the rags of repetition
Into a rosy borning road.
2-21-23
Contest: This or That
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Theme chosen – Cul-de-Sac
Downhill dart
In a hard rain
Brakes squeeling loudly
Yielding no refrain
No line to start
Only a race to begin
Staring at death
Not expecting to win
Trophy worth taking
The poles are level
Showing no fear
Mimicking the devil
Pall Mall blazing
Fumes fade fast
Confidence fading
This feeling won't last
Chasing destiny
Life can be a hairpin turn
Reasons written in books
On pages that were burned
Champion to the moment
Clinching the wheel
Finish line in sight
Seems so unreal
Stories soon forgotten
As quickly as they're told
Dead end ahead
Race for the gold
Living in infamy
Instead of breaking just bend
Ride off into the sunset
Disappear in the end
A Demanding Steed
Once upon a crisp Winter morning, while the cardinals so lively, announced the awakening of a new day.
I sprang out of bed, pressed play on the radio, and begin to dress for a trek across the field and dance.
My brown leather boots were still warm from the heater they had been placed upon the night before.
The painted gelding's neigh travels through the wind and up to my door knocking loudly.
He requests fresh water and straw.
I find my coat that is brighter than heart decorations floating around on Valentine's Day.
It too matches the cardinal's plumage and warms me.
The young equine commands its orders again, and in a very blunt manner.
I rush to the bathroom, twist my hair into a woven strand, and complete the style with a petite floral hairpin to confine my bangs.
The horse noisily bellows once more.
The creature lacks patience like a fourth-grader waiting for recess and the freedom to prance about.
My gloved hands twist the brass doorknob and the wooden door extends its arms towards the snow-covered backyard.
Oh! The outside air strikes my face as the icy wind impales every inch of my soul.
I close my eyes and pull my fuzzy cream beanie over my ears.
My shriek caused the cardinals to crow once more. They mock my misery in the cold.
Crunch! The snow feels like glass cracking under my shivering feet.
The trusty transportation source turns its large upright ears towards my direction.
A cheerful whinny he lets lose along with a jolly canter to the edge of its wooden stall.
"This metal nameplate is inscribed with only the most appropriate name for you my friend," I tell the horse. Commander.
Oh, how I love thee and its amusing demands. The marvelous adventures he takes me on.
I fill up the water trough with sweet water and place fresh golden hay into the wooden feeder.
I turn to kiss his fuzzy black and white muzzle before I dash back into my cozy cabin.
The creature appears to smile at me as he then turns to consume the new hay.
I love my horse so much that I would let the animal inside the house if it wasn’t so large.