Best Hem And Haw Poems
from the conch
whispers come
dissect
distract
blow upon
scintilla branch to intrinsic thought
weighed down
consumed
overwrought
mattering - so magnified
that I can't turn away my eyes
reach for able hand to soothe
what dread could deed undo, disprove
kisses stolen
by long lost words
explored lactic fallacies
become absurd
til endings are not the body expired
but exposure of every cell and every wire
cathartic grip held in awe
control depletes as hem and haw
til sadly swings
and bridges to shame
call time
I must
on the lugubrious game
I caught a glimpse of my mirrored reflection
but dared not stop to take a closer look
for I feared my eyes would be an open book
with lines I wanted no one to read but me
No brush strokes of my brush or pen
did I want to capture with my sorrow seen
It was an absolute absurd notion
to paint the pale countenance on my face
as I walked and wallowed, lost in time and place
Since no longer does he exist in this life
I sometimes feel I am a mirage, a sullen shadow
The merest gossamer ghost of floating flesh
I know because it's what the mirror saw
With the whispering wind, I aimlessly drifted
A dreamer without a dream of what life portends
wandering in the darkest nights, depending
on the sun to rise when dappled Dawn opens his eyes.
I didn't go gentle into the nebula night
for I feel jealous when moonlight fondles the sea
feeling more pallid than Luna's light
and an echoing emptiness washed over me
I feel as if I am an alabaster phantom
my skin the transparency of a colorless hue
Procol Harum's whiter shade of pale
miserable that somehow along the way, I failed
and so it was that later...
I went gentle into the nebulous night
without the need to hem and haw
without the want to rage or the urge to fight
for the dirge of death burns in flames of finality
With my eyes wide open, I couldn't read the words
I'd written for they were blurred on the page
My eyes might just as well have been closed
for exposed was the room I'd kept locked
behind the cage of ribs that protects my heart
My silence is not anger for having lost him
without so much as a final word of goodbye,
one last smile or the chance for my eyes to weep
My silence is not bitterness, just anguished awareness
It's an umbrella I wanted to open against the weather
That storm of emotional pain I knew would arrive
I chose not to open it so the torrent of my tears
would mingle with rain, but beneath the gloomy skies
one look into my eyes would give my heartache away
If he were still alive, I wonder what we would say
Black lives matter
yes they do
Blue lives matter too.
Green and red and yellow lives
I’m all on board - no lie.
But when you say that “ALL lives matter”
you’ve lost me, and here’s why:
I seriously doubt that you
agree that every life
is as important as the next
Oh really, Barney Fife?
So tell me - and I’m sorry for
invoking Godwin’s Law
but what about that Hitler guy?
Now don’t you hem and haw!
You said “ALL lives” - so do you mean
that people like ol’ Dolf are just
as valuable as you and me?
Why shouldn’t he be dust?
And what about the Ku Klux Klan?
And what about the Taliban?
And what of ISIS (or ISIL)
who stay up nights to plan their kills?
So all lives matter? Really now –
That just seems very wrong, somehow.
There aren't many games I play
For most of them require
Some patience and some strategy
Or, at the least, desire.
I quite enjoy my "Words with Friends"
But usually I lose.
The very first word that I see
Is likely what I'll choose.
Of course, I should peruse the board
And calculate the score,
But doing that would make the game
A stultifying bore.
My mah jongg buddies hem and haw
Before they make their move.
I play real fast so rarely win;
The pros would disapprove.
For competition means that all
The effort we extend
Should serve to help us play the game
And win it in the end.
The only real advantage
Of my non-competing flair
Is that when I see the outcome,
If I lose, I hardly care.
I appreciate
The patriotic voices
It does my heart good
I truly believe
In what makes this country great
But I would say this:
The Constitution
And Bill of Rights created
To ensure freedom
Against tyranny
And to stop invaders from
Attacking our homes
We have the right to
Should pack a gun...
Having the right to
Be free goes hand in hand with
The right to feel safe
If we continue
To argue over our right
To security
We are betraying
The very thing we fought for
In all the wars past
We are no longer
Truly free because we now
Are captives of fear
We are so afraid
Of being insensitive
Offending someone...
We've allowed thousands
Of "sleepers" to live with us
Freely, unchallenged
Waiting for the time
The signal to attack us
Again and again
While we were sleeping
Enemies crawled in our beds
They destroy our dreams...
Would you invite your
Enemy to your house to
Sit at your table?
Right to privacy?
We gave that up long ago
It's an illusion
Each time we logon
To the web to conduct our
"Personal" business...
Each time we apply
To obtain that credit card
To purchase more "things"...
Willingly we will
Give up the rights to privacy
For financial gain
Making money is the
"Great American Way"
Nothing wrong with that
But when it comes to
National security
We whine, hem and haw...
We won't compromise
When it's not profitable
Even for life's sake...
All nature’s linked, the heavens with the earth,
in star formations, gas, galactic dust,
elusively in roles of death and birth
however random seems their wanderlust.
We peer in space with telescopic sight
that oft may miss the tracery that’s there
as when our past assumptions take to flight
in view of being further made aware.
Vast fabrics interwoven in the sky
that starry gazers spy amidst the mists
and what immensities they might imply
may only be a whit of what exists.
…The poets with their phrases hem and haw
…yet fail to other than profess their awe.
~ Harley White
* * * * * * * * *
The poem is in the form of a Shakespearean sonnet…
A source of inspiration was the following…
NASA’s Webb Reveals Intricate Networks of Gas, Dust in Nearby Galaxies…
Wearing her nine-inch stiletto heels,
stylized and polished to a high gloss:
she absolutely loves how she feels.
In her high, sexy shoes, she strikes awe
within the hearts of unwary men
who get tongue-tied, as they hem and haw.
Granted, nine-inch heels may seem extreme:
but this seductive siren on stilts,
comes off as anything but mainstream.
In heels, she stands out above the crowd,
leaving some women green with envy:
while for the most part, men are left, wowed.
Will It or Won’t it?
I bought a car in ‘98
that was made in ’92.
It had seventy-seven thousand miles
but it still looked like new.
I showed off my little car
to most everyone I saw.
My grandson changed the lettering.
Instead of Grand Am it reads Grandma.
It purred just like a kitten
until one day in a traffic jam,
it stopped and wouldn’t start again.
Grandma jinxed that sweet Grand Am.
Good Samaritans got me off the road
and I called my son-in-law.
That car started for him right away.
There was no hem and haw.
I took it back to where I bought it
and they tinkered around a bit,
then said it worked just fine for them.
There was nothing wrong with it.
So it went for quite while,
it stopped with me, started for them.
It was making me so nervous,
I feared to drive my once loved gem.
I took it to another mechanic
who took it all apart.
He found a glitch in the computer,
the reason why it wouldn’t start.
I still drive that Grandma Grand Am,
though it’s a nineteen year old car.
Like it I am a grandma
and don’t drive it very far.
When a pregnant woman gets on a bus,
Be the first to give her your seat.
When you see an old lady on a busy corner,
Help her across the street.
When someone's carrying a stack of books,
Open the door for him.
When your colleague starts to sniffle and sneeze,
Bring him a tissue; don't ignore him.
When you see a car stalled by the roadside,
Do you pull over to help?
Or do you hit the gas and accelerate?
When your best friend needs a sympathetic ear,
Do you try your best to commiserate?
--Or do you hem and haw, then pontificate?
When the shopper in front of you's short by a dime,
Do you whip one out of your pocket?
--Or do you give him a hard time?
Small acts of kindness cost next-to-nothing;
--The blessings and thanks begotten
Are really something.
I wonder what would the Father of
Modern Art have thought
Could he have seen the work consisting
Of a squiggle and a dot
Hanging in a big museum
Where the viewers hem and haw
And try to tell each other of
Its meaning wild and raw.
His "Still life With An Open Drawer"
Is as real as it can be
And needs no interpretation from
The art elite for me.
Cezanne painted true what he knew
With a bit of abstraction in all that he drew.
Written for Brian Strand's contest
Paul Cezanne Artist
"Still Life With an Open Drawer painted 1877-1879
I know it was a long time ago
In a place now far away
But way back then I had a crush on you
That I remember still today
I never acted on it then
And am in no position to do so now
But thought I would just let you know
And maybe make you smile some how
I would write your name next to mine
In my spiral class notebook
Along with poems about making love to you
On pages nobody else could look
I tried talking to you a time or two
But the words just got in my way
I’d hem and haw and shuffle my feet
Trying to think of something clever to say
I don’t even know if you knew me then
Let alone remember me now today
But I’m glad to learn from mutual friends
That your life turned out okay
I am married now and much in love
So my life turned out just great
I wonder sometimes what you’d have said
Had I the courage to ask you for a date
Tis all
shilly-shally, dilly dally
wiffle waffle, willy wobble
quiver and dither
teeter and twitch,
which whatever, wherefore wobble
hem and haw, ho and hum
Tis all a dithery tizz
The world is filled with some fancy dancers
who'll come a prancing through your bedroom door
They'll do a pretty good job of makin’
you think they're spot on what you're lookin’ for
But they'll hem and haw and skirt the edges
never quite proving what they claim to be
They’ll never give you any straight answers
when you tell ‘em just what it is you need
The words will roll cross their tongues so easy
they'll try to hide behind a white toothed lie
Watch ‘em primp and prune their fancy feathers
while promising you the moon in the sky
Just keep on looking for the kind of man
who’s only promise is a life of love
And asks for nothing but to share that life
under a wide Montana sky above
You'll know for sure my dear when you've found him
the right cowboy will treat you like he should
Never take a single breath without you
and no one will care for you like he would
So I’ll toss my hat into the circle
though I can never promise you the world
I can make darn sure to never hurt you
if you’ll only be this cowboy's cowgirl
Those who are ever-persistent
take pride in being consistent
Never quitting what they start
they're considered quite smart...
Others hem and haw, never sure
if they should move on or stay put
Yet whenever they choose to move on
they feel they shot themselves in the foot...
As for me, I'm nor twixt nor between
'cos based on the evidence I've seen
These words be my epitaph
~ He planned; God laughed
Ordinary moments
for ordinary people,
living inside the dream
Like comfortable shoes,
a dog that won’t leave you,
treasures to esteem
Ordinary moments
for ordinary people,
the rest to scratch and claw
To get to a place
they’ll never find
—condemned to hem and haw
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2020)