Best High Strung Poems
You're worthy of love
I see the scars, you're hiding deep within
they're not visible, upon your skin
you don't even know, how you could begin
to feel worthy of love...
You've been floating away, in time and space
your pain is written, all over your face
your dignity left you, without a trace
and you don't feel worthy of love
Bridge 1
I've seen so many people, just like you
they never seem to make a fuss
the only colors you know, are black and blue
and now it's hard for you to trust
The only friends you had, have long since died
you couldn't save them all, even if you tried
now you bottle up all, your feelings inside
you don't feel worthy of love
Bridge 2
I know to you living, is not worthwhile
but I can prove that you're wrong
I know it hurts to even try to smile
cause you forgot where you belong
Some may say, that you're a little high strung
you've shed too many tears, for someone so young
don't you know that you're life has just begun
and that you're worthy of love...
oh yes you're worthy of love
you are so worthy of love
You've forgotten that, you too have worth
you're the only you, on this planet earth
just ask the loving ones, who caused your birth
they'll say...you're worthy of love
indeed you're worthy of love
welcome home my dear!
you are so worthy of love!
April 21,2017
John Derek Hamilton
Zany and free spirited, Mr. Bungo is a one man show
Yodeling any song you like, doing the "old soft shoe"
Xenial to one and all, he can always charm the crowd
Wild and crazy is he, in a world of his own fantasy
Verily, a man of many talents, with his skits and tricks
Under a bright red canopy, he performs amazing feats
Tickling our fancy with imaginative tales of wonder
Somersaulting through hoops, landing on heaps of feathers
Rides around the ring on a wild, high strung ostrich
Quickly, Mr. Bungo jumps up onto tall stilts and
Parades through the crowd, while playing a kazoo
Odd and quirky, his clothes are colorful, bright and loud
No telling what Mr. Bungo might say or do next, he can
Mimic voices, impersonating a host of sounds and noises
Laughing, he loves to hear the audience roar and cheer
Kind, he tries to hide it, but has a soft spot for little kids
Just watch his face beam as he gives them animal balloons
I can spot tears forming behind his sad, blue eyes
He has a soft heart, but doesn't want to show it, so he
Grabs his tall, silly hat, and springs back into action
Flinging himself into a rocket contraption, we watch
Eager to see what Mr. Bungo will do next, now sparks blast
Daring and brave, he rockets up into the air so high
Careful, Mr. Bungo, we don't want you to crash and die!
Barely, he escapes a tragic collision, he finally lands
And then Mr. Bungo bows, leaps up and does a hand stand.
Now if I shoot at you with live ammo that's personal,
Words just don't hack it, most thoughts too bizarre
To attribute to anything short of dementia,
With colors that dribble, fake tears! Spayed guitar!
Sounds so high strung with guts, from such different cats,
Tones all bounce off life’s rails more like temper’s distemper.
What cue ball can't sink are your colors to choose,
But consider largesse to be caveat emptor.
The precision you see here's designed to confuse you,
For order is something most men can't abide,
But the devil take foremost, ‘who’s first,’ most deserving
A cinch that there's nothing to trump – more than pride!
Long Tooth
June 2nd in 2019
*Image of Betty White by Pinterest.
Betty White RIP
Alas!
She Passed,
Betty,
Firstly,
Then White,
Finite,
Icon,
Like On,
TV,
Marquee,
AM,
FM,
Invest,
Her Best,
Female,
Prevail,
Guinness,
Booked As,
Premiere,
Career,
Shadows,
Gameshows,
Mary,
Murray,
Ted And,
Sue Ann,
High-Strung,
Sharp-Tongue,
Antics,
Frantics,
Leaven,
Seven,
Golden,
Stolen,
Bea, Rue,
Stan Too,
Miles And,
Nylund,
Fourth Gal,
Estelle,
Neighbor,
Failure,
Drop Dead,
She Did,
Gun Shot,
In Shock,
Hearts Race,
Shot Vase,
Herring,
War Scene,
Rose Tell,
Naught Well,
Funny,
Zany,
Skip Skit,
Lost It,
Girls Said,
And Begged,
Show Say,
No Way,
Were Told,
Too Gold,
Kitchen,
Sit Scene,
Bea's Chair,
Centered,
Her Face,
Priceless,
Patience,
Listens,
Blanche's,
Sex Phase,
Estelle's,
Regales,
Rose Talks,
Olaf's,
Both Shows,
Few Knows,
Actress,
Eldest,
Blonde Dyes,
Blue Hides,
Kids None,
Stepmom,
Ludden's,
Children,
(Alan Ludden's first marriage)
*RIP Betty White*
Betty White suffered a stroke six days earlier before dying in her sleep at her Brentwood, CA., home from cerebrovascular disease, (01/17/1922-12/31/2021) at 99.
2022 February 13
*1st Place*
A Strand (1073)
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2022 February 14
The mechanical components, the valve that pumps my heart
The reactive nerve endings that serve a sensory stimulus
The tear ducts that latently only lend lubrication
The silly little practical necessary body bits, pieces and parts
I yawn & it reminds me… I should probably inhale & exhale
I smile because it is simply facial muscles that need exercise
I do mechanical muscle management to strengthen & maximise
Biomechanical body’s like mine don’t simply go frail..
My skin surface is stimulated, & sympathetically constricts.. it must be cold?
My mental function set to maintain a neutral base
My muscles, skeletal system, ligaments, tendons & bony structures
Encapsulated by a mechanised myofascial web, complete the outer mould
Organs operate internally as a well serviced engine, its all systems go
Emotions just pesky little hormone imbalances, from a time long ago
Where we as woman once needed in order to reproduce
Will evolution shrink our ovaries as they have outgrown their use?
My tongue embraces words, my tongue the sharpened sword
I trip stumble & fall and my senses heighten
My pelvic floor constricts & I feel it twitch & tighten
I massage the distressed muscles & release multiple rewards
It’s my body, it’s my temple, my vessel my machine
Not some sensitive, high strung weak inferior copy of a male
It is supple, soft and silky to the touch, all curves & contours
It’s my body, it’s my temple, my vessel my machine……
Your agouti mix with your silver sleek shine,
Your genus “canis lupus” known throughout time.
You hunt in packs deep in the woods,
So stealthy and confident just like you should.
Carnivore mammal, tough as steel,
You ripped me apart for your last meal.
Untamed and wild beneath the the moon,
You've startled me in my pathetic cacoon.
Unraveled, strings pulled out of needles,
So high strung, and a beast who wheedles.
A savage predator from North America,
With ancestors spread through Northern Canada.
You came and left in the blink of my eye,
I heard you found a home somewhere near by.
First time I saw you I ended up on my knees,
Searched for shelter crying out for indemnity.
Last time I saw you my heart was in ruins,
It's only because of your tedious undoing.
Later than sooner when we meet again,
I'll pray for comfort and hope to suspend.
Your call of the wild screeches in my ears,
As you pass on your legacy throughout the years.
Your agouti mix with your silver sleek shine,
Next time you're near I'll be disinclined.
Magnificent and marvelous is how I feel.
A holiday I enjoy the most is almost here.
Gift giving to your highly favored one.
Icebergs will break during wintertime.
Cakes are decorated, beautiful.
Kisses fly across the room meeting your significant other.
If you just would look my way.
Smiles will shine upon my face.
Such a brilliant array,
Eyes will dance and sparkle on Valentine’s Day.
So be mine!
As this I thine
Noetic mind
Desired…
Vibrant in the sunlight
Aura to the sunshine
Longed for
Effervescence adorns.
Not ever is a phrase that has no form.
To you and I am yours.
Invigorating our thoughts is foremost.
Nightingales fly o'er above.
Evening has arrived my love.
While high-strung and eager for the night to come,
I am in an emotional setting and this day is Valentine’s.
Sweet caresses in the moonlight
He is dynamism and passion.
Eternal is undying ardor.
Such a charmer!
___________________________________________|
PENNED ON JANUARY 23, 2015!
To Don Quixote, Translation of Paul Verlaine’s sonnet : A Don Quichotte
(Poem written in March 1861 that I would Verlaine had
dedicated to the Grand Dear Old Man of Letters : Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra - with kind permission, of course, sought by me and which I know he wouldn’t withhold. T. Wignesan)
O ! Don Quixote, medieval princely champion, incomparable
Bohemian,
Only in vain does the absurd and vile crowd laugh at you :
You died as a martyr and your life remains a poem,
And the windmills wronged you, O ! King true !
Always keep going, keep going, protected by your faith,
Astride your fantastic charger that I cannot but love.
Sublime gleaner, forward ! – those the law wraps in moth
Balls are more numerous, more staggering than bygone days
enough.
Hurrah ! We follow in your steps, we, the saintly horde of poets
Dishevelled, our heads wrapped in verveine tights.
Lead us on to assault high-strung fantasies,
And soon enough, in spite of every form of treason,
Up on high will flap our winged standard of Poesies
Over the hoary skull of our inept reason !
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
I'm a high strung girl
From two different worlds
Fiery and passionate
That's my Cuban one
Sassy and mischievous
The Bahamian sun
Guys call me opinionated
But I'm just liberated!
I'm a nice person
Once you get to know me
Few though, ever see me clearly
A "sarcastic jerk" they say
They're lucky that I turn and walk away
"Vengeance is God's"
I mumble
If I were you I'd stumble
I speak my mind
Don't keep it all inside
Sorry if you find
That troubling
The truth hurts
That's what's worst
But you see
Sometimes they respect me
After all, isn't honesty the best policy?
Now mind you it's rare
Not everyone gets my charming flare
But it's the ones that do
That I care for too
And if it's any comfort to you
I think it's quite uncouth
To never tell the truth!
Please catch me a Ghazal
And don't even ask me why
It's something I've just wanted
someday before I die
More docile than a lion
More graceful than a giraffe
More sleek than a hippo
Let me see you ply your craft
Not as crazy as a monkey
or as slow as a sloth
not as high strung as a zebra
now please give me your oath
That you'll catch me a Ghazal
It matters not in what condition
as long as you write it
in the pure Persian tradition
My neighbor is an older man so ghastly and thin
with his creepy demeanor and a toothless grin
On pins and needles to the mail box I run
looking side to side uneasy and high strung
With a slap of his screen door on the porch he stood
looking straight at me wearing an ungodly red hood
With a broom in his hand he starts doing a flaky dance
I try not to look but bewitched I stare at him in a trance
Mysteriously I wonder why he's hitting his roof
when I notice an eerie wasp nest and with a flee I scoot.
9/9/15 T Reams copyright
Lilly wanted a teddy bear, so her Mom FunkunDilly gave her one.
Lilly kept telling me how she loved it, and was having so much fun.
Though strangely, she was keeping it, at Grandpa Troll’s bridge.
I couldn’t seem to, understand this at all, not even a small smidge.
She didn’t bring it home at night; she didn’t even drag it around.
She only visited it under the bridge, when Grandpa Troll was around.
Finally I ask her why she didn’t bring it home, to tuck it in at night.
She said it was a fragile thing, that couldn’t leave it mama’s sight.
This itself, should have told me it was better, to leave well enough alone.
But I was not the brightest thing, to reason out, what was being done.
So I invited Lilly, and her teddy bear, and all the Trolls, to come on a picnic lunch.
FunkunDilly ask for honey, lots of sushi, cookies, and baby bottles by the bunch.
Grandpa Troll laughed and said he’d come along, to see how this was done.
Sure enough the teddy bear was there… and his mama had ALSO come along.
Gurgling noises came from my mouth, and my hands had a life of their own.
It wasn’t long before I found myself on the ground, as I fainted with a groan.
When I awoke Mama bear was saying ‘how high strung these human creatures are!’
She won’t hurt my little one? Is she crazy, do you think? OH, is that a chocolate bar?
I tried to regain my composure… as I passed the honey to put on the chocolate bar…
So yes, we had a teddy bear picnic as Lilly’s Teddy and his mom became the stars.
We all discussed the weather, daytime soaps, and how honey works with crumbs,
Plus how to stop, our precious little ones, from constantly sucking on their thumbs.
Grandpa Troll was laughing about Lilly’s Teddy Bear Picnics for years to come.
And he thought I had handled it very well… even though at first I had succumbed.
In the end, leave it to a Baby Troll... to have a real Teddy Bear to love and hold...
I have bent and I’ve swayed
And swung back and forth too
Then I went and I played
Did it all with my crew
Take time to have fun
So you won’t miss the glee
Just go for it and run
Even climb up a tree
If you go out and play
Just what would you do
It is for you to say
Or it is even with who
Not missing a beat
On my way out the door
I grab something sweet
And yell I want more
I always feel young
Cause I do like to play
I am very high strung
Wouldn’t you say
Play well and be healthy
To feel like a child
You will always be wealthy
Even if you are wild
I will never grow up
I will always feel new
Will you show up
To say that it’s true
I’ll be young til I’m gone
I can never be old
My life it has shone
As shiny as gold
- I take a step back to reflect. Fecal matter storms a reality check in to the mental hotel of chaos. In utter disorder; rationality eludes us. Cluelessly, we are insane—on a temporary leave of absence. Senselessly numb; simply, simple... Obsolete and discreet, keeping eyes down low. Hidden from the world; we stick out like sore thumbs. An overwhelming sense of paranoia takes wheel; who's driving? Slippery when wet; we slide. Uncontrollably... Unmistakeable, but make no mistake. Masks that we wear are transparent; fooling only some. High strung like the strings of an old banjo, our dirty laundry is airing out. The presence of stains shout out secrecy in whispers, silently broken. We enable auto pilot and go through the motions; subtly coded from paranoia. This ride becomes turbulent. Lightning strikes and in a flash, real gets real. Feelings of panic offset stabity. Balance forced to recollect. Frantically scrambling to find our lost librium. Playing cards that we repeatedly deal out ourselves, it's time to go manual. Reality delivers a stunning right hook; drawing first blood. Dazed and confused, fight or flight mode sets in. Voices of criticism echo in our heads. Self doubt secures confidence with an iron fist. Insanity begins it's never ending rant, as we argue amongst ourselves. Our worst nightmares become reality. At this moment it becomes impossible to deny. We are who they thought we were.
Up and down we go.
A depressive state but you seem to love the verbal flow.
You laugh and say my ornateness makes me rhyme.
I will leave you a kiss when I say goodbye.
Metaphorical you are.
You are the great philosopher.
High-strung and low-keyed is your talk.
I will be the first to walk.
It is just plain to see when love is not to be.
Although great as sex partners, I do not want to be free.
You seem to be objective to a f*** and not real to love.
When I say goodbye, no tears do I have to cry.
Of course, mountains I will climb.
Peak an incline to suppress my desires.
"Do we have a chance?"
I know this is a question you will never ask.
"Is it for sure that our partnership ends?"
I want more Jim.
____________________________|
PENNED ON SEPTEMBER 04, 2014!
This poem is based on the following theme:
"Leave you a kiss"