Best Hawing Poems
The sage green wall had worn a blank look
until, slightly askew, with a tilt to the left
dangling helplessly, without a complaint
is the pride of an artist, who lacked all constraints.
He dipped into his paints with no sense of restriction
hung it in place without hesitation
giving the viewer a crick of the neck.
It hangs precariously, for an eager assessment
without circumspection, neither yes's or no's...
No hemming or hawing just helter and skelter
Instead, a take me or leave me,... is the quick estimation
Conforming was no issue, just pure bold assumption
Excitement exploded from two eager hands
that thrust it in place, with assured restless haste,
hammered a nail with pride and conviction
and planted it there, with pure ardent fervor
Sharing a warmth of a seasonal decade....
this amateurish, yet delightful landscaped intrusion
sings in the sunshine, and smelling of springtime
shouting with color, and sprinkled with lavender
flavored with turpentine, and oil-painted rainbows
In the lower left corner, is an array of dahlias,
bursting with crimson, never changing or fading
never thirsty for water,
barren of a single, silent, dried up weed
and free of decay, dismay or mold
The amber was gold, the umber was bold,
rust to rust, dust to dust......ash to ash
With him he took all the pride that he found
...still holding the brush stroke of a satisfied smile
___________________________________
For Anthony's Contest: Favorite Artist
Dedicated to someone special in my life R.I.P.
4/16/14 Revised for Anthony's Contest
Categories:
hawing, art,
Form:
Free verse
From chaos to cosmos
From cosmos to Barbados
From Barbados to Cricket
Fifty odd years
CAT EEG Resurrection
An original me?
If you know
The fundamental difference
Between 1 and 2
First comes the moon
Second comes the yellow
Last come the clouds and bats
They move cannons
Blasting chicken fodders
Canon of polite society
The sun moves
From east to west
From Angels to Demons
12 billion years after
Jesus rose
To shed his blood
Shadows and the lights
A road between, a pass
Tomb and randomizer truss
F=(x, y, z)
Collectively
Mistrustful
Since x=y
Earth exists
And will be
Ghewroucvsf
Chaos?
Right?
1123!
A big number
But small
Translation x
Interpretation y
Transportation z
There is no one like you,
And there is no God but you
Why kill?
The arrows
Earth
And a Japanese welcome
Ängsälvor
Swedish meadow elves
Warped, frame of reference
We are in God
Dead shall come alive again in God
There will be one house, hearth, Lord
11.2 km-secs
Escape velocity
To earth, to earth, to home
Blowing out a candle
Heaven interpretation
Nirvana, a candle
My opponents
Brought an oxymoron
For me, pretty ugly
p
A mirror
q
Lost in translation
Nothing lost in mistranslation
But you
Pigs are social insects
Bees are feral pigs
Cats are ants in a defense colony
Women in default mode
Susan, Mary, Debbie
Shower love on everybody
Bats and beeps
Critter’s wings
Pandora’s pigs
They smashed squirrels
It had happened, to a great extent
With us
If you need fire
Go to a dragon
A female dragon
With all calculations
I could not find
Her hemming and hawing
They died in summer
Drove car in winter
And married in fall
He misspelt 'love'
He was dead fifty tears back
In the act of correcting
Some chimps
Some elephants
Some ants
Let's go out to the field
And then and only then
Cain slew Abel
Note: They are not Haikus by form or convention but they are not null-haikus, non-haikus, proto-haikus, pre-haikus,rogue-haikus,rig-haikus or anything like that. They are haikus by " spirit".
©RAJAT KANTI CHAKRABARTY
15th October,2015 19:35:29
Categories:
hawing, poetry,
Form:
Haiku
Sounds of the Day Contest
Sponsor: Nayda Ivette Negron
Accentuated by nature the hushed willow gently weeps,
Beneath the sun the sparrow cries as he gently sleeps,
Above the clouds the eagle flies to catch his helpless prey,
For these are the sounds I long for during the beautiful day.
The tweaking of the baby doe nestled in his mother’s arms,
The gentle hawing that follows from the colt inside the barn,
The breath of breezes whispered from gramma’s ol’ maple tree,
All create the sounds I love to hear full of exceptional majesty.
Sweet calling of the mother goose to feed her baby ducklings,
The tender swaying of the pigeons as they nest in coupling,
Whispers of the yellow sunflower seedlings fertilizing the field,
Captivating sweet tunes of nature, oh how it does appeal.
Articulating southern twang of a sweet newborn baby giraffe,
The accents of mooing and milking of a sweet newborn baby calf,
The resounding howling of my dogs while with the ball they play,
For these are the sounds I long for during the beautiful day.
Date Written: June 19, 2016
Categories:
hawing, animal, beautiful, nature, sound,
Form:
Couplet
Il vaut mieux- as there was nothing.
None knocks at the door, as I don’t knock more
A horse doer, escaping from the stable
I penetrate a place then dropping from the window
Humming – hawing,
Rushing,
Sighing,
-In a far bench
I count the stumbling words, trailing the weakened tongue
Il vaut mieux- as there will be everything.
I come looking for incision to run away
The scattered papers, I let go
Trying another iron or wooden door
I’m crazy about wall’s hole
Joyful,
Sorrowful,
Lustful,
Our relation is like railway lines
We meet underneath the pressure of changing the course.
Categories:
hawing, adventure, fear, hope, life,
Form:
Free verse
Would you just spit out what you're trying to say!
Stop sounding like a jackass, hee hawing a bray.
Sugar coating words won't make them sound sweeter,
and don't even try to recite them in rhyme and meter.
You keep babbling words. It's foolish procrastination.
Stuttering "B b b b...but B b b b...Baby" in hesitation.
Minced words are stumbling and fumbling from you.
Hinting with utter nonsense is what you always do.
I don't have the time or the patience to wait around
while you stammer in the most annoying sounds.
Tongue tied and afraid you'll say something wrong?
I'm not mincing words in telling you goodbye, so long.
6/17/16
Categories:
hawing, words,
Form:
Rhyme Royal
Who cares if the road winds or wends
so long as I step with my friends?
Quit hawing and hemming!
We are not the lemmings
who blindly fall off to their ends.
Categories:
hawing, allegory, animals, satire
Form:
Limerick
TOM THE TATTERS MAN
The sidewalk creaked the old-ship-creak, cracking away a gorge at last;
asphalt split like wood, split-fast and bastions and toilets ------
overflowing fast; flooding through the deep dark cracks:
the Drunken Dance
Tom the Tatters Man, Tom and Ned ------- drowned whiskey white
wreaking around where harlequins astound; with wine and clowns
and nothing but buzzards around ------ they shot them all down,
they drank while death danced in their hands, heaving and hawing
til their heads swam
Alleys here and there strewn with vagabond boxes, boxed like shoes
too tight to make the fit ------ they'd all given up on the fix of life
every last one; the eldest and the young,
beggars all
Skyscraper shadows make a house of steely-steel thatched roofs
steely rust upon the alleyway proofs, the back is cold and stiff upon
morning whiffs....
of molten garbage
Defeat
Tom the Tatters Man did not despair, while here and there
molten garbage everywhere ------ in his socks and shoes,
molten in his mouth despite a tune, as he rose up and flinched
his morning love; a shot of whiskey at nine o'clock
Categories:
hawing, addiction, poverty, sympathy,
Form:
Rhyme
Allowing awfully awkward arguments to arise
Self-doubt secludes, so sequestered, sadly... sans surprise
Madly muttering melancholy mottos
Odius, obtuse obligation on auto
Deftly denying deteriorating destruction
Somehow sickly surrendering Soul's suction
Humbly hemming-n-hawing, half-assed heretic
Dejected densely dimwitted dumb ass derelict!!
Cautiously cradling cuddly collected captions
Abandoning all assertive able action
Forgetting forlorn feats, fastidiously folding
Meandering movement mutates morals molding
Leering looks like loathsome lovers lying
Forsaken feelings foster festered fish frying
Eating every emotion equally
Fantasizing freefall freedom frequently
Evenly eviscerate existential existence
Ruefully relish relinquishing rancid resistance
Categories:
hawing, social
Form:
Alliteration
This revolutionary fella followed by
Adams family patriarch,giving rise
twin heir (plain lee gifted "Renaissance
Man") Jeff force'n without hemming
and hawing, subsequently conceding
nexus (nor horse drawn Lexus) of Colonial
power to Madison, thence Monroe
buttoned up as suitable candidate after
which younger Adams elected.
Thirty four followed Jackson's club
trumpeting (some Obama nib bully)
bushwhacking their way predicated
on faulty Algorithm, charming
charismatically with hint of Clint
like glint in eyes, blinding populace,
sans ray gun (Reagan), Car Tour ring
with peanut gallery in tow, affording
(unpopularly pardoning unfashionably),
a Jerry rigged nixed son, followed
by John's son tainted by stain of Vietnam,
but with said Southeast Asian debacle,
one ken heady (sporting thick styled hair)
inherited an internecine conflict, essentially
precipitated, when Eisenhower hardened
political stance against any allies of the
Soviet Union, (sans The Viet Cong), and
pledged his firm support to Diem
and South Vietnam.
Now with preceding administration, one
harried true man unleashed advent of atomic
spectra upon Hiroshima, and Nagasaki, this
purported preemptive measure scary ruse
felt to thwart exaggerated Japanese government
threat (military intelligence) scheming to
wreak untold havoc upon American troops
within the Pacific theater of World War II.
The former horrific decision controversial,
then and to this day Hoover expert historian,
diverge, asper corroborating the necessity
to usher in the Cold War, yet majority foreign
policy wonks might grudgingly attest that
said thirty first commander in chief did maintain
a Cool Edge throughout onset when doomsday
clock began countdown to Armageddon,
an unimaginably blaring, deafening, earsplitting...
cacophony distant rumbles heard, nonetheless,
no Hard dinning ghoulish nightmare (potentially
obliterating all life on planet Earth) haunted
Wilson, nor Taft, only gunboat diplomacy
mere child's play exhorted, less catastrophic
comparison, when Teddy Roosevelt wielded
"big stick schtick" namesake corollary to the
Monroe Doctrine in 1904...ad nauseum.
Categories:
hawing, age, birthday, character, courage,
Form:
Free verse
Tuesday Lobsang Rampa made
tea so his Third Eye could open
to see dreams fortifying in aspiring hearts
as they reach for the next beat in their comings and goings
Socrates played the lyre by
banging on the strings while
humming and hawing about the trouble of
always stressing and straining against the chains
though he loved Phaedrus in the Symposium
it was Xanthippe that made him a muse
Hermann Hesse spoke in tongues
while translating the synapses of a goatherd
who arranged new ideas like glass beads
which almost always came undone
except when Siddartha played the lute
in exchange for his crooked staff
Nietzsche saw the cunning linguist
would never solve the puzzle of the dead body
which Zarathustra carried to his bed like a wolf
where he lay dying of syphilis wrapped
in the wool of many sleeping sheep
Sibelius finally gave in to the seduction of despair
when for many restless nights he looked up at the
stars in the same Elysian fields where
the goatherd lay asleep
dreaming
Categories:
hawing, allegory, art, dedication, education,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
Portraits can take many shapes and forms
Unlike in Rembrandt, a Rubens, or even a Dali
Modern artists will often eschew the norms
Portraits of myself do not look much like me.
Unlike in Rembrandt, a Rubens, or even a Dali
A portrait may be merely a fine-line drawing
Portraits of myself may not look much like me,
Asked why, the artist will do some hem-hawing.
A portrait may be merely a fine-line drawing
Having none of the subject’s facial features,
Asked why, the artist will do some hem-hawing
Artists must see subjects as mythical creatures.
Having none of the subject’s facial features,
I find it impossible to know who I’m looking at
Artists must see subjects as mythical creatures,
But I take umbrage when I am drawn as a cat!
I find it impossible to know who I’m looking at
Modern artists will often eschew the norms
But I take umbrage when I am drawn as a cat,
Portraits can take many shapes and forms.
Written November 28, 2022
Categories:
hawing, art, character, identity, perspective,
Form:
Pantoum
This Bumptious Poet ©
Once again dear reader,
aye strive to regale ye
with in apropos prate,
(nee inane) vain
null gibberish in order to suss stain
mine infamous reputation
with the singular word pain
in thee...online
literary milieu, where this main
stream (babbling virtual
brook call lean)
tin hatted man,
qua zee moat tow "FAKE" King
po' whit laureate selective keen
a boot (sally ling forth)
hemming and hawing,
while feigning bing
a suave hill Billy blue jean
wearing brand Levi Strauss,
(a posthumous plug)
for a savvy German
businessman hood deed glean
prospective market for
denim made easy to clean
material donned by lumpen
proletariat aye assert
would be my status
if born circa
late eighteen hundreds by
a moo their and father,
both named (Elisha) Eli
for short slaving away to feed,
and clothe this then little guy,
who whiz fain to appreciate my
(dirt poor station in life well nigh
larded with love,
and non verbal re: ply
thee above fictitious
i.e. "FAKE" parents rye
zing far and above
penury and did try
their level best
to hammer out
round the clock rockin
round the clock
nsync with the paradigm
of Abraham Maslow,
albeit modified ad hoc
accepting with humility,
poverty how to jock
key providing basic brood
of offspring and subtly mock
king bourgeoisie, re: (unpretentiously
unflattering discrete actions), while rock
king to thee western civilization
trappings of schlock,
ah and oh...no doubt
precious time, aye
did fritter and flout
away distracting sorely tendered,
kindled, and cherished attention
thus metaphorically affecting thee
with equivalent, where
yar entire body riddled with gout.
Categories:
hawing, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Enclosed Rhyme
Ofttimes yours truly assiduously tries to adlib,
but blubbers like a landlubber
at sea treading water donned with bib
(that doubles as yellow
spongy bobbing life jacket)
furiously doing doggy paddle
riding the next tidal wave
hoop fully washing me ashore to crib
if need be to dig an underwater channel
painstakingly slow drabs and drib.
The English language I simply adore
though offtimes methinks waxing eloquent
affects listeners as yours truly a bore
in record time flapping waxed lips
beholds one gordian
tongue tied knot major chore,
whereby I wanna bolt out figurative door
feeling deplorable and stuck
analogous to Eeyore.
Ache 'n to launch into a monologue
or chime into ongoing dialogue
me noggin off times generates brain fog
mental state mimicking one,
who quaffed an over abundance of grog,
which for this teetotaler would constitute
a mere thimble full of drink,
perhaps rum enhanced eggnog
just one sip and boing I go
topsy turvy as if a felled log
hit me over the head
rendering me unconscious.
Thus wood explain mine altered state
though unsightly gash on pate
battle scar leveled playing field
with the missus, 't other significant primate
supplementing and complementing
one aging long haired
pencil (vane ya) necked geek
being caged, yet free
to roam within human zoo
both, (née all) of us captive
on carousel of time
nsync with every other *****sapien
begot to participate in circle game.
All superfluous joking aside,
I strive to groom conversation,
whereby uninterrupted flow of words
(versus fumfering, hemming, hawing,
stammering, stuttering...), thine
general oral feedback paradigmatic guide
ever diligent to think
before I speak with pride
else I heep discourtesy
upon myself and chide
yours truly with harsh rebukes,
which maybe tantamount
going off the mountainside
plummeting into the abyss
engenders an unpleasant
metaphoric roller coaster ride,
and if crash test dummy doth survive -
upon gibbet he will be tried
punishment broadcast world wide
for flagrant horrendous verbal
egregiousness (waywardness) he belied.
Categories:
hawing, addiction, assonance, blessing, confusion,
Form:
Free verse
WITNESS OF CHRISTMAS
A long road, a long ride for pondering.
A burst of occasional hee-hawing.
Bumping along, did they sing, did they talk,
this man who dreams dreams, with Mary he walks.
Did the star follow them to Bethlehem,
encircling with golden diadem
the unborn Son of God, who turns with joy
within the virgin’s womb, this tiny boy.
A cold Winter’s opus breathes Mary’s psalm.
Her intended spouse smiles, uplifting palms.
Celestial beings keep watch of night,
alert to the impending birth of light.
Most moms would cringe to lay their babe in hay,
but the Holy Spirit gives His okay,
and this mother, of great faith, swaddles Him
as the stable animals wing a hymn.
Perhaps some alone time with their savior,
before the trail of wise men, create stir,
with gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh
and the meek shepherds arrive with their herd.
Angels all around — history’s witness,
taking turns “Hallelujah”ing a kiss.
Her holy infant son, warm in her arms,
Mary’s unique hold to all heaven’s charms.
12/24/2017
Categories:
hawing, christian, christmas,
Form:
Rhyme
This Dissembling Man...
Trod thru three
score orbitz with air
tight (hermetically sealed)
lid on his emotions bare
reft of evincing
concern and/or care
ring forever guarded against
incursions upon fragile as chinaware
psyche foregoing giving
healthy breathing room
never to dare
risk challenging discomfort zones
skirting, hemming, and hawing
deliberately averting, shying,
sidestepping away against
welcoming awkward adolescent
romantic experience, thus
never playfully trying to ensnare
and/or allowing, enabling,
and providing gamesome
opportunities providing willingness
tubby triangulated ascending
ark hay yick teenagehood,
when deux dozen, foursquare,
nor eighteen candlebox birthdays,
nonetheless hungrily glare
ring with salivating
envy peers that hare
tuff hoar did gather
their rose buds...despite,
or perhaps because raging
testosterone overtook coy
demure lassie tude surrendering,
whence young womanly
primal urges let machismo insnare
whereat discovering prickly
"beau" vine love on par
with being a millionaire
despite tiffs that,
tested one's mettle quickly
learning the vital lesson
to turn/beat cutting
edge sword into plowshare
setting the figurative stage,
when feathering one's
nest to prepare
for legal covenant,
(a death do me part
binding resolution) endeavoring
to sustain a lifelong
commitment however difficult and rare.
Categories:
hawing, education, father, jewish, mirror,
Form:
Bio