Best Knuckled Poems
Just as days long ago, when decorum resolved,
before composure, and poise,.. were corsages, unknown
Where propriety mattered, and was favored as gold,
high society, has gathered to flavor their tea
There's a trellis, embraced by a rose climbing vine
Places are set, for dining in jade
beneath shadows that stretch under arthritic old trees
While slivers of sunshine, squeeze through the branches
of silver leafed limbs, in magnolia bloomed shade
Tea will be served, by large knuckled hands
at several round tables dressed with Swiss lace designs
Wearing lavender silk is our proper Grand Dame'
who fits her surroundings, as vintage as wine
Voices are lilting like the birds in the trees
Laughter and chatter, mingle with soft, summer breezes
A bouquet of old friends, around a few scattered tables.
Silver coifed hairdos, to make celebration
Crepe myrtle and wrinkles, beneath ashes and maples
Water cress munchies, and triangle creations
Sweet honey-suckle, tucked over the porches.…
Rose petal blossoms, are painted on china
Bridge cards, tumble by Blue Willow dishes
Biscuits from England, crumble sublimely
Large bosoms bouncing, and big floppy hats
Gossip dished up with lemon-sliced frowns
Up in the tree is the neighbor's calico cat
who catches a glance, and a chance to crawl down
Are they ladies of leisure, from a time that is lost?
Or a painting I've seen on the wall from the past?
______________________________
Inspired By the Garden Party Contest
Sponsored By Cyndi McMillan 6/6/14
Categories:
knuckled, art, nostalgia, people,
Form:
Sonnet
Panagiota is a whirling Galaxie
with her blue thunder words
a spirit like black diamond lightning..
She bruises the clueless and ignorant
not out of hate but of love
not with a brass knuckled fist
but with pearled wisdom
layered around grains of
life's relentless grit.
Her words are not fanciful or minty...
their always stained with the talon of truth,
She crushes the weak-minded and the oblivious
with her Olympian soul and rose scented boots -
She fears nothing and never spares the rod
while weaving a spirited ink to her parchment heart.
Atop enchanted moonbeams
she lances pit vipers and tangos with God.
Categories:
knuckled, courage, poetess,
Form:
Free verse
'Twas a dark and stormy night on that dark and stormy night!
HMS Blunderbuss plied the billowing seas just off the Isle of Wight!
Able Seaman Steer manned the helm when dead ahead he saw the light!
He woke the snoozing Officer of the Deck to apprise him of their plight!
Captain Ironbottom (who happened to be in the 'head') was duly alerted!
He dashed to the bridge in his drawers to ensure that disaster was averted!
"By jove!" he cried, "Her Majesty's ships turn aside for no one, I say!"
He grabbed the radio, "Ahoy there! Turn east 15 degrees! Out of my way!"
From out of the ozone a voice retorted, "Suggest you turn west 15 degrees!
I'll not change course for anyone, so heed my warning if you please!"
"This is Captain Ironbottom of the HMS Blunderbuss!" he thundered back!
"I know the rules of the road! Turn now or I'll see you hung from the rack!"
Able Seaman Steers' eyes grew as large as saucers knowing not what to do!
Communication between the captain and the mysterious light was turning blue!
As the distance narrowed between them, neither would give a nautical mile!
The white-knuckled Officer of the Deck was turning pale with a sickly smile!
"This is Captain Ironbottom again! Are you challenging Her Majesty's might?"
"Yes sir" was the reply, "You see, this is the light house on the Isle of Wight!"
Today the mighty HMS Blunderbuss rusts upon the Isle of Wight's rocky shoal.
Captain Ironbottom faded into oblivion due to the folly of his last patrol!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Categories:
knuckled, dark, funny, light,
Form:
Rhyme
Bike Riding
Once, I was able to navigate my sleek black Fuji racer, sitting arrow straight, pushing hard, and hands at my side. It’s amazing to think I was able to maintain my balance, down hills, around
unyielding corners, no plastic garbage pail stuck on my head to protect what little brains I had in the first place. Ah, those were the days.
I was dashing and daring back then, hawk-like eyes focused, clear and bright. There was no need to squint until my head ached. I rode with a pack of wolves, flying maniacs all part of my tribe, hurling down streets littered with the remains of Detroit’s monsters. There was no sissy water bottle stuck on the frame, no reflective side mirrors to steer me away from danger. No, just a basic stripped down machine was all I needed as if I was a test pilot screaming past mach one, the rush of pure adrenaline.
Now, when I bike ride, I feel weighed down with the expectation of a crash landing about to happen. Flung backwards by the slightest breathe of wind, I choke the handle bars with white knuckled kid gloves with eyes glued to the road, I expect the worse is always about to happen, watching the odometer to gauge how far I have gone, and how much time I have left.
Categories:
knuckled, adventure, change, nostalgia, old,
Form:
Verse
I could see the bend in the road ahead
and I could feel my stomach twisting with its presence.
This would be my new beginning,
my new home,
and I was afraid of what this life change could bring me.
As I began to get nearer
my hands gripped the wheel tighter.
I could feel my palms begin to sweat
as I white-knuckled the wheel.
I slowly pressed the brake as I entered the curve
and I felt my whole body tense.
Then I quickly accelerated,
and in one swift motion I was through the curve
and speeding down the road toward my new home.
As I watched my surroundings change,
I knew that bend in the road
would be a joyous point
for every time I came home.
Categories:
knuckled, change, farewell, home, simple,
Form:
Free verse
Sitting at glen’s edge,
pining the loss of summer
and idyllic rendezvous -
the noticeable disappearance
of luscious granny smiths
we cut in halves
and passionately rubbed
between a quartet
of burning thighs
to chill the desire -
after the writhing ceased.
Perhaps we spoke in similes,
debating the darker part of dawn -
the soft, highlighted slices
of your auburn hair
reflecting the sun's
secret midday voyeurism -
wispy strands of woven silk
complimenting the texture
and hue of imported burgundy wines
erotically sipped,
tasted
and unintentionally
spilled?
Or maybe,
we didn’t speak at all -
perhaps our mouths
were silently engaged in activities
devoid of eating and speaking -
and the perspiration exchanged
was more essential than
simplistic bands
of knuckled gold;
wet and wanting
an invitation
to the honey-scented
catacombs of a private
teardrop.
The summer when
two ambitious hearts beat loudly
and became whole;
we coupled and silently
brushed our eyelashes against
a lost era.
A time when innocence
was a forgotten commodity -
and sincere happenstance
could not define the validity
of unconditional love;
whereas our
sodden lips remembered
and conditionally
did.
Dedicated to and written
for my sweetheart -Margaret.
Categories:
knuckled, love
Form:
Free verse
I've reached the other side you know.
Daily my cheeks are aglow.
White-knuckled courage is my pride.
I paid my dues and took the ride.
The fog has lifted from my heart.
I've been given a brand new start.
I fought my demons-took them down.
A smile's replaced that lowly frown.
When times are rough and hope is lost
I'll not forget what doom has cost.
White-knuckled courage is my pride.
Brought me through to the other side.
The pale white moon glows on this earth.
Finally I'm happy about my birth.
Laughter and love shall follow me.
I'm blessed and fortunate as can be!
written January 5th,2014
Categories:
knuckled, courage, depression, happiness,
Form:
Couplet
The Not So Lone Ranger
Hi Ho Silver the Lone Ranger yells as he rides
Misleading because he always had a friend by his side
His guide, sidekick, savior, and yes friend
Tonto stayed with him till the bitter sweet end
When the Lone Ranger needed help, Tonto was there
Wherever he was needed, Tonto was everywhere
In a battle shooting guns or bare knuckled fists
Tonto was the first to deliver most hits
When traveling across the desert hungry and cold
Tonto trapped the food and built fires with charcoal
If the Ranger had a message to send of dire need
Tonto would deliver it on horseback full speed
No matter who the foe he had the Rangers back
He has saved him many times during surprise attacks
Saved him from Indians, Mexicans, and White Men
I guess you could say that he was the very best friend
His loyalty to the Ranger was far above none
The Ranger might be lone but it was two amigos with guns
04/24/2016
Categories:
knuckled, friendship, native american,
Form:
Couplet
We settled into the bay and,
Like lovers kicking the sheets down,
We grabbed and furled, grabbed and furled,
Unveiling a red vista.
You never told me you loved me,
And I never had the guts to speak.
So we threw cherry bombs at each other
From the safe side of a mountain
That was made from our imaginations.
Listening to little pirate angels,
We play out our misadventures,
Swooping in to rescue each other.
We tie off the boat using
The knuckled floor of the cerebellum.
What to do, oh, what to do
With such bedlam?
Categories:
knuckled, life,
Form:
Free verse
So much has changed
Looking searching high and low but it slipped away
Why can't I find it
Is it under the witness protection listed under a different name
I remember dreaming at night about how things would be mundane and cascade its way in to the plane in
which the soaring was placed
Where did you go
Why cant you be easy to find like waldo
But no
That wouldn't be life
That would be a theater seen at the back of our eyes at night
Hold on I'm coming
Might not be on a horse of white and armor glistening off light
But I'm coming
Maybe bruised battered and hungry
Maybe scarred bloody and mangled
White knuckled from the obstacles
Half blind in my opticals
Running from causes that are probable
Holes imbedded through ligaments and parts of my digestion
T-shirt wrapped around wounds pressing
Hair gray from stressing and a shell shocked tick like terrets and
Collar bone exposed knee caps blown
Sticking outta my back arrows throat closed narrow
With my tongue dried up looking like bone marrow
Hollering to a bellow
Smashing watermelon pumpkins and mangos
I will find you
Love of my life I will find you
God hasn't blessed me with this heart to blow this too
If he can strengthen this sinner
an ordinary dude
Then this too he will allow me to do.....Peace
Categories:
knuckled, faith, family, inspirational, me,
Form:
Rhyme
DON’T ANSWER THAT!!
That sound!!!
scratchy, tapping,
drumming,
at my door.
Unseen presence
silenced breath
scritching, scratching,
lightly tapping,
memos on
my unlocked door.
Reminders -
trembling moonlight -
distant daybreak,
far from sight,
dreams commandeered -
Pirate flags –
angel wings
lost in dark clouds,
tapping, tapping,
ever-rapping,
dead of night
or noonday napping,
rhythmic rumor
growing stronger,
knocking,
slowly knocking,
Life’s tick-tocking.
Last knock
cold knuckled rap
of “death’s” demand.
John G. Lawless
12/15/2015
Categories:
knuckled, death, dream,
Form:
Verse
Shoulder to shoulder Army and Marines
21st century soldier lethal killing machines
Were to take this strong hold and set nations free
Starting with ridding this city from insurgent filled streets
Gave civilians early warning tomorrow we invade
Closing in to the center until our enemies are laid waste
If you remained in the city then you're presumed to be a threat
Honestly I've never felt so alive to see so much death
Removing emotions, suppress fears, then move on to the bridge
No mechanism support for this battle just our strong wills to live
From house to house we kicked down every single door
Fueled by adrenaline and hate from the first twenty-six days at war
Prepared to engage in any hand to hand combat
Enclosed battle zones allow for these kind of attacks
Its a different feeling to pull the trigger and watch the bodies fall
Then to fight human eye to human eye bare knuckled in a brawl
Pulling blade from sheath then stabbing the threat seven times in his side
Compassion is a but ghost when its his life or mine
Three more times into the ribs until there was nothing left in his eyes
The day I befriended fear and I brought my knife to a gun fight
Fallujah 11/9/04
3rd Battalion and 5th Marines
Categories:
knuckled, america, conflict, war,
Form:
Free verse
Never knew my Dad when I was a lad,
Never knew what it was like,
to go for a walk, and hold his hand.
My, if I did, that would be grand.
My early years are in the mist of time,
Those times as a lad, covered in grime.
Mum tried her best, this I now know,
But without Dad, it was hard to grow.
I wasn't a wild child, 'cos he wasn't there,
I was just a lad who didn't really care,
I did as I was told, with no talking back,
Just the nice things of life I did lack.
As soon as I could I put that life behind me,
At the tender age of 15 I joined the army.
When asked what I wanted,a decision was made.
I went to Chepstow, where I learned my trade.
What I found made me wonder and stare
People taught me how to live my new life,
It was different,scary, but that was that,
Now was my time to wear a new hat.
I soon knuckled down to this new job,
For once in my life I had a few bob.
I learned how to be clean in myself,
Didn't know much about personal health.
In a room of 20 lads, dirty was wrong,
You had to stay clean for you to belong.
So showers, often, became norm for me,
As a very good soldier I wanted to be.
So much happened during my stay,
Until an accident occurred one day.
I bust my back, there was so much pain,
It didn't compare to being civilian again.
It still doesn't, over 50 years later.
© Dave Timperley. 06/01/2020
Categories:
knuckled, childhood, military,
Form:
Rhyme
I remember one night last winter when we thought it was snow falling, but we were wrong. It was ice.
We went out that night and stayed out too late -- unusual for folks our age. We got caught in the ice storm and had to navigate home on streets made of glass.
Driving home those few short miles from St Paul to Minneapolis was so very scary. How could such a short distance become so incredibly long? How could staying out late go so terribly wrong?
We planned the most constant route home as we skated to our parking place. Multiple accidents dotted the street and dread filled my heart as I climbed behind the steering wheel, envisioning us sliding down some hill into a car or tree.
“I will not take the freeway!” I exclaimed as I eased the car from its moor, intent on what seemed a very distant shore. Wheels spinning, tires sliding, silently screaming, I eased ahead gingerly as vehicles all around us seemed to be loosing their way.
Cars slip sideways into ditches, up on curbs and into each other. One car slithered past us as we inched slowly down an inclined avenue. Please God, Please God, my silent chant . . . at stoplights and curves, with white-knuckled grasp upon the steering wheel, I steered through like filling a narrow edge with a stick of glue.
My spouse, the navigator, said “Turn here and take this other route.” I prayed we’d make it home. We saw a bus slide toward us sideways down the street as we approached the intersection. It seemed like a dinosaur run amok, landing sideways at our corner with a gentle buck. My light turned green and we eased forward, leaving the saurischian behind.
Hoping there would be no cars and that we’d be all alone on the city streets.
“Please God, help us make it home. Don’t let anyone or thing meet or greet us.”
At final last, the garage insight, I prayed that I could get into that tight spot without crunching the parked truck inside or the garage as I skated in. Stopped and safe finally, I realized I had held my breath since we began. My teeth hurt from clenching them so hard. And I prayed Thanks to God! I’m glad to have you navigate the treacherous roads of my life.
Categories:
knuckled, adventure, car, introspection, january,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Music by Rickard Linde..
I’ve crossed a collapsed bridge
I sleepwalk the landmine fields
I hold the keys to toppled doors
I’m told by the ceaseless winds
My world turned into dust
A cast of rust numb to pain
My heart of gold is poached
An outcast of a political gain
Walking the rickety bridge
Each rope holds my last breath
A stone’s skid across the surface
Hope tinkers on a thread beneath
I’ve been through the stifling air
My lungs are full of black smoke
Eyes behold beauty blind to fear
Words that tint souls when spoke
Chorus
Hope is higher than the great wall
It’s knocking on heaven’s door
If you can dare to dream, to walk tall
Hope is the hurt you’ll feel no more
The faint light captured from the darkest sky
To illuminate (the future) from deep within your core
When the pyramids align with the stars
Then the heart is one with the universe
Although battered with indelible scars
Hope is paying forward never in reverse
I’ve survived the rain of fire
Lives dealt and sealed in handshakes
When my brother is a gun for hire
Engulfed in the cataclysmic earthquake
Our knuckled arms keep us warm
When our hearts grow too cold
From the aftermath of the bomb
And our young Hope still glows bold
I house a broken soul
My haggard façade shuts love out
To chase my dreams with blistered soles
Hope the boots when my feet were in doubt
Categories:
knuckled, inspirational,
Form:
Lyric