Best Hulking Poems
I walk above all pain
risen and relentless
floating on borrowed air oblivious
This heart is impervious fortress, like stonewall embattlements
...that lie is twisted around every bitter past and hollow present
Meandering useless, wander and watch
Romances ebbing, flowing, flying, crashing...dead
Envy circles about my head
longer away, further removed...and lonely
This heart is porous Swiss, like wine-tasting afterthoughts
...that truth is a hulking shadow looming disproportionate
engulfing any new light on unseen horizons
Only wishing she might see and understand
My hot and cold passion platters served accordingly
apprehensive only in love's pursuits
timid like bullied school children cowering in corners
Brash and outspoken otherwise...shackled when it may matter
This heart is neglected farmland, like wartorn meadows
...that reality inhibits every bright angle of my soul
suffocating the man you would love...if you knew
The shadows on the moonlit road
Belonged to ancient trees,
But then I saw a hulking form
That made my marrow freeze.
He stood well over six feet tall,
His face was long and lean,
‘Though dressed in velvet like a lord,
His voice was cold and mean.
He aimed his pistols at my breast,
With, ‘Stand and drop your knife.
Deliver all your goods, my friend,
Your money or your life.’
I knew I couldn’t hope to win,
And threw the man my purse;
But then he leapt upon his horse
And rode off with a curse.
The sounds of riders galloped by,
But none were there, I swear;
I heard a single shot ring out,
Thus adding to my scare.
The highwayman would never rest;
But all was still again;
I prayed, and, chilled by thoughts of ghosts,
Continued down the lane.
For Joyce's contest
a hulking oak tree
extends elongated boughs
handshakes with nature
Tree Themed Haiku Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin (Winner: 2nd Place)
Howmanysyllables.com( 5-7-5 Syllables)
Date written and submitted: 08/19/2019
I'm a polar bear, just that.
Don't ever call me bi-polar
or I'll angrily maul you to death!
Take a good look at me;
I'm a hulking menace.
Don't let my elephantine size
fool you. I'm surprisingly agile;
fast enough to chase down
an Arctic fox!
I'm a formidable apex predator
and wanderer of the North Pole.
When you don't see me,
I'm probably in hibernation.
My hunger is unslakable.
I can eat up to 10%...
of my bodyweight in 30 minutes!
My dense coat and body fat
insulate me so warmly that I...
sometimes overheat in summer.
When I do, I cool down by
plunging into the ice-cold sea.
Did I mention I can stand and
fight on my hind legs? I'm like the
energizer-bunny; incessantly mobile,
roaming hundreds of miles across
the barren Arctic tundra
in search of seals and fish.
I'm all dressed in white;
the snowbank, the perfect camouflage
for me to suddenly sneak up on a prey.
Invade my frozen kingdom at your peril.
I rule the arctic wastes like the king lion
rules the Serengeti!
Submitted for...
Strand Select A ,Any Form ,Any Theme Poetry Contest (Winner: Honorable Mention)
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Date: 02/01/2020
Date written: 01/24/2020
Inside a boisterous tavern,
a-light with drunken gaiety
of spilled ribald laughter,
he quietly sits alone ...
gently cradling his mead darkly
Brooding thoughts of past paid coverings
buzzes inside his head
Talking flies having the faces of the dead
“Have mercy, please”
This haunting cry, they all pled ...
except the halo head ones
“I forgive you”
This they all compassionately say
in time dispersed unison
The self-muted giant rubs his eyes,
still in somber inner disquietude,
at this troubling sight he has seen several times
Witnessing a bright, shining glow,
which radiates all around the tops of those
who call themselves Christian disciples —
before descends the sharp, quieting blow
It is by his liege, Caesar’s command,
to eradicate the scattering vermin radicals,
that he daily swings the severing blade
The duty-bound Herodian executioner
must always stay masked
when the murdering performance ensues
This is by privileged decree:
the entertainment requirement rules
A black cloth covering,
sprinkled with scarlet droplets,
is the terror mask his masters has him use
Rabid crown sycophants love their crucifixions,
the Roman preferred method of capital punishment
But, his under-lord, Herod, still adheres
to the ancient Molech ways —
Death by the beheading blade
Sighing, the brooding giant gazes about the riotous inn
with roaring, unspoken disdain
Even without the ritual Deimos mask on,
all within the tavern knows his occupation,
evidenced by his massive frame
They yield a fearful wide berth to him,
no one sits in the seats around his hulking presence
Looking down at his Pilate-cursed hands,
he sees the blood of the guilty and the innocent
Bloody hands that can’t be washed clean ... never
As long as he raises his arms,
and lets the body-separating blade swing
And I saw a new heaven and a
new earth: for the first heaven
and the first earth were passed
away; and there was no more sea
— Rev. 21:1
Satan is king of the sea
When he was cast out of heaven,
his star fell into the midst of the deep
And the dreaded armor-scaled whale arose,
with destroying breaker waves
An unholy submarine terror is he
Jellyfish can fatally sting,
and Great white sharks
are devouring deadly
But the biggest, baddest fish in the sea
is Leviathan ... he’s the one
who swallowed up Jaws, baby
Moby Dick ain’t nothing but a mere goldfish
compared to this dark-scaled monstrosity
This hulking behemoth rules the sea —
King Poseidon ain’t nothing but a cabin boy,
his trident weapon is just a plastic fork toy
Mythical tales
drawn from the deep fountain fears of man
It’s frighteningly obvious indeed,
Leviathan rules the sea
King Neptune ain’t nothing but a fable,
a man-made up story water balloon
I’m sorry to burst the bubble,
all you doubters
Mythical tales
drawn from the deep fear wells of man
Yes, Leviathan is bad as they come ...
he will drag you 20,000 leagues under the sea,
my doubting daughter and son
Leviathan ain’t no tall tale;
he will swallow you whole,
then vomit your soul
into the bowels of hell
It’s scary obvious to me,
Leviathan rules the sea
Wake up from your watery sleep, people
Satan is real ...when will you believe?!
No worries though ...
in the end, God prevails over the Devil
This is so comforting to me —
for in the new earth there will be no sea
A feeling of euphoria,
a woman and a rose,
a long, committed partnership,
of love the husband knows.
A tenuous and abstract thing
of love he understands--
or thinks he does until they
place a baby in his hands.
A miracle, a wonder who
can bring him to his knees,
who grips his heart with fear at
every cough and baby sneeze.
She calls to him in silent nights,
the deepest sleep defeats.
She holds his breath in hostage till
he knows her heart still beats.
Behold, the hulking man of men
of beastly, manly powers
who’s brought to tears by tiny fists
with gifts of mangled flowers.
A feeling of euphoria,
a little girl, a rose,
a dirty face, a sloppy kiss--
of love the father knows.
Sue’s puppy is called Tricky Woo
She’s upset when it does a pooh
There’s pee up the wall
And poop in the hall
She always finding doggy dooh
I suggested she buys a grit tray
And takes Tricky a walk every day
He can play in the park
Do its poop, have a bark
But someone should take Tricky away!
A puppy’s not right for her flat
Perhaps she should have got a cat
Not a hulking huge hound
From the local dog pound
Now why didn’t Sue think of that!
Inspired by picture - fictional poem only
04/30/20
The Lilliputians are out playing ball
Enjoying the fresh air of late Fall
When storm clouds roll in
Hulking Gullivers, wearing wide grins...
A Gull warns 'em, 'Fun's over, guys.'
'Cos the court belongs to us now
But the Lillis brace to fight back
They're all geared up inside...
The Gulls advance; the Lillis stand firm
Unsure now, the Gulls pull up short
Their mission about to abort
The Lillis have made them squirm...
The Gullivers slowly retreat
The Lillis return to their game --
The bullies ignominious defeat
Spreads the Lilliputians' name
Gather round all you little kiddies
Got a story I'd like to share
Bout a tiny mouse named Bartholomew
And a dirty big bear called Clare!
Now Clare wasn't the least bit happy
His name sounded a wee bit girly
Had a wee mousey friend Bartholomew
Who's name sounded strong and burly!
So hulking big Clare the unhappy bear
Asked his mousy friend Bartholomew
If he'd be so kind and wouldn't mind
Switching names, that'd be so cool!
Bartholomew said he wanted some time
To check with dear Cynthia his friend
About this idea of switching names
On her opinion he would depend!
Cynthia said, “If you want my opinion
Your name doesn't sound like a bear
But if Clare wants the name Bartholomew
We're still friends but now you'll be Clare!”
A name doesn't change the person you are
You'll be the same friend in the end
So forever after Mr. Bartholomew Bear
And wee mousey Clare stayed friends!
A moral?
The moon reflected on the sea,
A night more beautiful than day.
I wheezed and struggled up the steps
And looked out over Whitby Bay.
I saw the harbour far below,
And heard the splashing of the waves,
I turned around to see the church,
The ruined abbey and the graves.
I thought of Dracula, the Count,
Imagined him and Lucy there,
And then I saw a hulking shape -
But, oh, the menace in that glare.
He showed his fangs and hissed at me;
My feet were rooted to the spot.
I cried for help and waved my arms
At people on a distant yacht.
He lunged and bit into my neck;
I tried to fight but felt so weak.
And that is how I came to die -
And you’re the prey I need to seek…
for Darren's Bram Stoker contest
The cruise ship charged
Whistleless at my sail boat
In a narrow channel
Between Islands
Of The Salish Sea.
I was powerless with sails up
Tacking against a current
Knotted against me.
The water boiled.
I recoiled
In dread
I could see them
Cosmetic lazy travellers
Lounging unconcerned
Tending to their looks
As the mass
Of their moving Carnival
Careened
At my destruction.
Two glaucous winged seagulls
Preening feathers were
Unconcerned
As the submerging emerging hulking
Tree trunk and roots
Surged at me
I walked on by a graveyard, very late, alone one night.
No ghosts sprung from their moldy graves: no evil ghoulish sights.
It seemed no vampires lurked about, to sip my blood like wine.
And any hulking werewolves must have previously dined.
I watched in vain for zombies, with their gruesome, bloody stares.
But they seemed to be as plentiful, as wayward teddy bears.
Yet, I would duck behind a tree, on guard quite through and through,
At every car that passed me by . . transporting who knows who?
While I recalled what mother said, no doubt with some misgiving:
It’s not the dead you have to fear . . but watch out for the living!
© 2015 Diane Lefebvre
Alone, she noticed footsteps.
Her heart thumping, pulse racing,
She looked over her shoulder.
A hulking dark shape. A man.
She walked faster. So did he.
Heavy breathing. Smell of beer.
Her heart missed a beat. He pounced…
Jack Horne, 9th November, for Nette’s Silhouette of a Heptagonet contest
Dear lord, what have I become?
Reduced from a hulking mass
to the pulp in my love's drink
or maybe the orange itself squeezed dry
Ah, but while it all goes down,
smooth for her, it is not my cup
these passing years have changed me
deconstructed me, I am softly withered
The time to reform is upon me
I shall not pass it up, lest I offer my hand
straight to the reaper himself, I think not!
With every pulse there is a reminder to live
The harmonious choose to live committed.
Would it be to love or an asylum for the unstable
I myself have not figured it out
But if you love me, give me space