Best Interlopers Poems
Here’s to the travellers,
the passengers, the tourists
who trek this alien landscape
in search of experience.
Here’s to the resilient,
the adaptable, the survivors
who chose uneven ground
and made a path for others.
Here’s to the dreamers,
the poets, the believers
who see the cosmic cycles
of life, death and rebirth.
Here’s to the family,
the siblings, the bonds
that protect and comfort
because love is never lost.
Here’s a rose for Rita,
for Les, for Reen, for Mom
and all the souls we’ve lost
who have gone home again.
For we are the aliens,
not of this Earth, interlopers,
we belong to eternity
and to eternity we shall return.
NOTE:
Last night, Aug 20, 2019 my sister Rita Rose (her married name) lost her battle with leukemia and kidney disease, passing behind the curtain peacefully, joyfully returning to her husband Les whom she lost just nine months ago. Our mother passed only two months ago at the age of 92 while my brother's wife Reen died in April of 2018. Please send your love to Rita's daughter Heather and her grandchildren.
A fearful, jagged place
Yet wondrous to the eye.
A place for hardy mountaineers,
The Black Cuillins of Skye.
No place for the timid
Imposing in their might,
But to stand and look upon
There's ne'er a grander sight.
Interlopers amid rolling hills
A ridge of fierce repute,
Standing aloof, magnificent
They challenge rope, and boot.
(read like bob dylan talk-sings)
back of the property there's a rattle of crows...
could be that wolf that was walking down the road...
this morning...look'n quite pleased with itself...
like it just ate...big smile and a trot that'd stop any car
and make ye stare...at natures spectacle look'n back at you
in yer machine...float'n down a gravel road...and wolf's thinkin...
man's fly'n but he can't catch me i've seen these things tangled up in trees...
along the road that is...lights flash'n sirens blast'n people die'n...freeze
or thaw...nature deals with interlopers...across her wilds...and territories..
stan sand
Often quiet evenings, when I read,
Memories of you softly intrude
Times when you were my only need
Heady days of a love we pursued
and saw only in glasses rose hued.
Thoughts surface I wish would move on,
as unknown others invade my sleep.
They are interlopers, quickly spawned,
spreading fantasies that grow and creep,
like tangled vines invading my sleep.
Dreams of you lie easy on my eyes
memories tossed and tumbled with time.
Although the past may wear a disguise
discarding thoughts we'd like to decline
I like thoughts of you caressing mine
Memories are stored of long-ago past,
as your sweet face invades my mind
with sunshine days that will always last.
They're a treasure we happened to find
while intrusive thoughts are left behind.
Pick Yourself Up – Dust Yourself Down
Is there a glimmer of hope in this convoluted soup
Is there a sign that all is not such a cock-a-hoop?
I came in here with blind hope and faith
And sit here now with a sweet bitter taste
A poem I’d read after such a relaxing night
Tore at my heart with such fierce might
From one of poetry soup’s own “elite”
Threw her splintered soul down at our feet
Like many she’d felt that alluring pull
That, in its time, had made her feel full
Had filled her world, her life, her words
Now she’s left feeling so absurd
Betrayed? Or was it something more?
A hint of love, through silken words galore
We’ve all seen and heard the literary whore
Who builds you up then knocks down your door
How many times over these electronic years
Have we seen people left in tears
By the ruthless cyber predators
These cruel emotional interlopers
Whose whispers woo and wind and wend
Through frail emotions that they transcend
Until the soul thief’s goal reaches its end
Leaving shattered hearts that’ll never mend
But the poet that lingers within us all
Lulls damaged minds with an incessant call
Cuts through self-doubt and low self esteem
Reminds us it’s not all as it seems
Instils words to our damaged minds
Washes over actions and phrases so unkind
And builds us up once again
Gives us the courage to pick up our pen
No muse, nobody - outside influence
Will ever give us such confidence
But inside us all that incessant urge
Encourages us for our souls to purge
So let them out: those emotions raw
Throw open wide the windows and doors
Burst forth with words from your very core
Leave people pleading for more and more
So pick yourself up - dust yourself down
Do not sit and mope with a morbid frown
Unleash the poet, the scribe, the clown
Reach for that pen and “go to town”
Denizen of abyssal labyrinth,
legendary ancient Wyrm seeks succour
within prodigious sepulchral cavern:
her domicile for an ageless lifetime.
Ethereal shafts cascade through ceiling's
stochastic rifts, piercing tenebrous tomb;
vicious viscous scarlet smears juxtapose
against shimmering iridescent scales.
Aeons past, Faustian pact formed with Man:
vow of harmonious co-existence
exchanged for fulgurant falchion forged in
the heart of dragonflame's conflagration.
Sacred covenant shattered this night by
myriad ironclad interlopers;
ruination's harbinger was strident
warrior wielding token of treaty.
Last vestiges of cacophonous roar
dissipate into the Stygian depths;
acrid stench of brimstone clogs the air as
remnants of vitriolic pyres linger.
Twin gargantuan fibrous wings contract
behind enormous muscular torso;
fulgurating talons sluggishly sheaved
as serpentine tail shudders and falls limp.
Priceless metals and prismatic gemstones
intersperse with charred and twisted corpses;
amongst detritus of mortal conflict,
majestic titan finally crumples.
Massive lurid yellow orbs exhibit
an unfathomable intelligence;
succumbing to the inevitable,
moribund colossus bows forlorn head.
Lifemate butchered by zealous paladin;
remains of final clutch just motes on breeze.
Burden borne by solitary relict:
regal behemoth was last of her kind...
----------------------------------------
(C) John C Michaels, 25th April 2017
Free verse, no meter, no rhymes - as per contest rules.
10 syllables on every line (howmanysyllables.com)
For the contest entitled "A Mythical Creature" sponsored by Julia Ward.
stop interlopers
cling to love's first memory
avoid nay sayers
Villanelle: Wander not into a land where the indigene’s indolent
Wander not into a land where the indigene’s indolent
Likely as not the country will be run by interlopers
Open-heartedness is often a cover for self-bemusement
The first signs crop up when lax morals make him relent
Shuts an eye to alien antics on his wife and his daughters
Wander not into a land where the indigene’s indolent
When foie gras vacation rather than who runs government
Or the long weekend pont makes the migrant caretakers
Open-heartedness is often a cover for self-bemusement
Fanatics from dictatorships money-minters from the Levant
Drugsters* outsourced from banana republics’ carpetbaggers
Wander not into a land where the indigene’s indolent
And lo! Ere the cock crows every face in the pram’s sun-burnt
In one generation one-third pray through tongue-twisters
Open-heartedness is often a cover for self-bemusement
In two generations three-fourths take over government
Pimps drug-addicts loafers wage war with spiritual gangsters
Wander not into a land where the indigene’s indolent
Open-heartedness is often a cover for self-bemusement
* drug-pushers, drug-dealers, drug-addicts and their bankers
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
Such an invasion will not go unavenged-
I will render my prostate prostrate
Lest my humor become unhinged
It so betrays my desire to micturate, yea even to conjugate.
And I will radiate radiation
When approached I will shout Unclean! Unclean!
I will need some serious anesthesiation
Just to maintain my unvented spleen.
I always think I am so hansom
I quite assume my royal entitlement
But a colony of cutthroats now inhabit my rectum.
And I must engage in violent embattlement.
To the walls! To the walls! my spermatazoan comrades
And destroy these interlopers awful.
Let them not breach our ballustrades
For Nature herself has proclaimed them unlawful.
INTERRUPTION OF SOLITUDE
Cloud caressed rock face
Cycles of ice hide from wicked wind-- cling
Without your consent
Interlopers
Uninvited frigid fingers
Disturbing peace
V Anderson Throop Nov 2013
the blog wars
hiding beneath and behind
the tufted heads of the nine tailed cats
awaiting the unsuspected entry
of inane innocence at large
devious despoilers – these demons
perfections faulted protectors
exacting a price they cannot pay
holding an ideal as a weapon
denying the truth of a single beauty
because it stands among so many
mocking the buds of beauty’s quest
as inept imposters to the throne
sticking the thorns of jealous roses
into the hearts of blooming daisies
hiding in the bulrushes of ego’s
self inflating fallacy
yet still intruders crash the gates
bold interlopers plodding onward
toiling in the trenches of a dream
unfazed by guardians failing scheme
John G. Lawless
10/12/2015
submitted to – Best October Poem – Poetry Contest
sponsor – SKAT A
Baking was not an option,
long gone were the days (and nights!) of crème brûlée and bûche noël.
Such delicacies have taken a more...paternalistic
approach,
abstaining stove-works entirely,
however slippery,
often guided by such vintage luminarians as Einstein's popular 'words to live by' & action-tropes by the enticing acrobatic authors,
J & L Bird.
Various interlopers, actual or imaginary, instantly
stiffened to attention once the oven-door was opened and the klaxon bell engaged.
Ceremoniously, once alert, all in attendance
(rubber black-rats excluded) turned towards
shelved rainbow rivers of irises (plasic, of course!) and with goodwill (and smiles) together recited the Lord's Prayer,
and departed.
Dedicated to Clarky & his loving support team, you know who you are...
03/19/22
7:18pm
james marshall goff
Slightly late, I ran into school
Exuberantly yelled, “I’m here!”
Senile secretary Miss Mule
Gave me a tiny silent cheer.
“A teacher is missing!”
She sang out to back of my head.
“A teacher’s gone AWOL,
Maybe she is injured or dead.”
Weirdly, I knew, who it was,
And also knew where she was at,
So I ran to the teachers’ lounge
Interlopers were chewing the fat.
“A teacher is missing!” one yelled at me.
I gave them a look, and they jumped out of our chairs.
Two sneaky sixth graders, having a tea.
All three of us tore off running, down the backstairs.
I ran to the gym, where was the whole school,
Touched my principal’s arm, said, “Sorry, I’m late.”
The kids surrounded us, put on quite a show.
I did not get away until six after eight.
Then I called Channel 5 to say I’m okay.
Reminded Miss Mule again who I was.
Media wanted a photo they could display.
Calling them apparently a big giant fuss.
Wednesday, January 27th,
unseasonably warm by a few degrees
black and white of old snow
and soon to be new trees rest
against smoldering grey clouds.
The “wolfy” wind rests
tired from Tuesday’s “huffing and puffing”.
An urgent stillness greets the silence,
birds warily peer from stilled hangouts,
discarded food wrappers sleep in the alleys,
“Old Glory” hangs listless and burdened,
soft yellow windows blink – focus on the day.
A lone dog barks reclaiming his territory
from the nightly interlopers,
in the distance coyote’s yip
calling the children home to bed.
The old clock ticks as the sun
struggles to disperse the cloudy veil,
filtered light casting no shadows
on the black and white union of grey.
John G. Lawless
1/27/2016
COVID-19 pandemic analogous how indigenous peoples got felled...
Woebegone, enraged spirits
holographic images taciturn
journeying somberly aghast
at their stolen sacred lands... mourn
dead souls impossible mission
sabotaged aery mission endeavor
happy hunting grounds upheaval
witnessed gaunt bloody sojourn,
perhaps collective aboriginal ghosts return
to haunt cruel innocent heir/heiresses
regarding interlopers, si?
Malicious intent birthed in subsequent
quick succession to adventitious,
(nevertheless grievous) events
visited upon heads of storied "Indians")
misnomer spurred European explorers
(more particularly exploiters),
when "discovering" the Americas
to dole out (deliberately)
contaminated accouterments,
plus various sundry trappings
to native inhabitants.
Gross misdeeds of our long deceased forebears
debauched, decorated, and dedicated
footloose hedonistic jackbooted violent men
loosed mayhem opening pandora's box
unwittingly and/or intentionally disseminating
seeds of annihilation germinating lethal pandemic
decimating innocent ofttimes knowingly
unleashing opportunistic virile organisms
without vital immunity linkedin
bodily defense mechanisms.
With advantage of hindsight
always 20/20 (especially
calendrical juncture planetary
space/time continuum 2020)
opprobrium plentifully quoted
as cosmic consciousness skews perspective,
whereby admission acknowledged
conquistadors looted, pillaged, and raped
(blithely, effectively, and indiscriminately killed)
every man, woman, and child
and/or sowed cultural abomination
acceleration, adulation, aeration...
Though thoroughly grounded
within secular humanism
courtesy kickstarting metaphysical realism
philosophical, teleological...
essentially Unitarianism paradigm
whereby ripple repercussions of actions
(think butterfly effect
starring Ashton Kutcher - ha)
trigger domino falling action,
yet additionally affects fate,
particularly he/she who
activated, cultivated, generated...
chain of events, particularly
brutal, deplorable, and unforgivable misdeeds.