Best Lagging Poems
A transparent melody paints the walls
in the coloured scent of fresh linen.
The changing of sheets in the morning air
can not erase our dance from evening last.
Outside a late spring asleep too long
with no blooms until June, awakens.
Fully opened September flowers
perfume late night conversations.
Looking outside reveals
only one set of footsteps in both directions.
The days when I would watch you walk,
lagging behind with a smile.
The moss grows wild in the forest...
trees surrounded by families of mushrooms.
The word "family"
so I...
An I for an I
and soon the whole world will be in love.
How I long your hug,
your body encompassing mine.
God exists
no greater proof...
With a single tear I
lay flowers where you bloom...and I
i think of you.
March 20 2015
Armand
Categories:
lagging, introspection,
Form:
Free verse
He was skipping along, swinging his arms and laughing
At what I don't know.
His grandmother, lagging a few steps behind, was laughing at him I suppose.
And I thought to myself, she loves him, she does,
This Beautiful Brown Eyed Boy.
He stopped when he got to the corner and waited for me to turn right.
A smile crossed his lips,
As he waved at me - at me and my shabby old car.
And when I had passed him, he started to prance quite merrily on his way.
This Beautiful Brown Eyed Boy.
The confidence of youth flowed joyfully through him,
Just looking at him made me smile.
And you know what I did? I pulled to the curb and parked my silly old car.
I watched for a while as he started to run and then charge on out of sight.
This Beautiful Brown Eyed Boy.
How old he was then, I'm really not sure, Maybe five, maybe six,
Not yet Seven.
But ageless his quest to embrace this life whatever might come his way.
A sadness crept into my heart just then for I knew life would never be fair to
This Beautiful Brown Eyed Boy.
It will be harder for him to be special. The color of his skin will not help.
I wish I could be there
To tell him be careful, stay safe in this white man's domain.
But maybe the people he'll meet in his life will let him be just who he is
This Beautiful Brown Eyed Boy.
Categories:
lagging, black african american, boy,
Form:
Narrative
One day I delivered a poem
one that seemed to be premature
so I swaddled her up
and set her aside
to grow 'til I felt reassured
How she yowled and howled for attention...
how she cried so piteously!
How she coughed and she sneezed
whimpered and wheezed
then threw up all over me!
Still I tenderly tended her bedside
and lovingly nursed her along
determined to sacrifice everything
to raise her up healthy and strong
As she grew and recovered, she wandered
and crawled over everything
and I found I had trouble containing
my rambling, unruly offspring
She became an inexcusable bounder
a wayward and bratty ingrate
who despite all my love and affection
refused to make sense or read straight
She dallied in questionable places
she idled and shiftlessly shirked
lazily lagging, ignoring my nagging
while I selflessly, endlessly worked
Firmly applied discipline to her
and structure, and meter, and rhyme
but she bucked, and rebelled, and bit me
and stayed up beyond her bedtime
We wrestled, and wrangled, and brawled,
bickered in bitter altercation
if I didn't do something quite soon
she would ruin my good reputation
At length, I decided I'd had it
we had reached the end of the road
and although she clung like a wet paper towel-
I flung her and flushed the commode!
Categories:
lagging, humor, humorous, silly, word
Form:
Rhyme
A Chinese lad was at table dawdling with his pork and rice.
This upset his mama-san who reprimanded him in a trice!
"Clean your plate! Children in America are starving, son!"
And she continued to berate him - her tirade had only begun!
"Your papa-san has a great job while dads in America are on the dole.
Our economy is booming while that of America is lagging, on the whole!
Papa makes good money to provide Americans with the things they need.
You should be very thankful for the jobs they send here, yes indeed!"
"Kids in America can't get a job even with a college education,
But, son, America will provide you with a job in any old vocation!
This is the land of opportunity, my boy, thanks to American capitalists!
You must appreciate all they have done for us Chinese communists!"
"Not so long ago your father and I didn't have a yuan to our name.
Now we have a house and brand new car - life will never be the same!
So I don't want to hear any of your sass or fiddling with your food.
Thanks to the generous Americans, they have lifted our nation's mood!"
"I want you to clean your plate and grow strong to follow in your dad's shoes.
Uncle Sam needs you to make TVs and shirts or anything else they choose.
No more lip! Clean your plate! I want to see those chopsticks flying!
Think about the kids in America who'll got to bed tonight hungry and crying!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Categories:
lagging, funny, america,
Form:
Rhyme
I like to think that love
is Universal – even little
green men, on boggy worlds
having such fond capacity
like to think that stars
share brilliance affectionately,
giving an extra beam, here and there,
to a fellow where a twinkle lagging
like to think, that vagabond comets,
trade heartfelt sonnets in the passing
like to think that you would love me
forever...even if I wasn't so
poetically cute and clever:)
Categories:
lagging, community, friendship, humor, humorous,
Form:
Free verse
Black hands and blacker hearts,
Isn't that always how the trouble starts,
When the few above,
Govern the many below,
And olive branch toting doves,
Flee in droves,
Silence the mind,
The heart is talking,
Logic's lagging behind,
Because the fanatics are gawking,
At the fire on his tongue,
That dances as he speaks,
Flint striking the lungs,
Against the matches in his teeth,
"Die a lonely death",
All who pray,
Your faith reeks of Macbeth,
So easy to betray,
Caution with your fever,
You're likely to burn up,
With your flammable cadaver,
And the pitch lining your gut,
My disjointed sense of anger,
At all who oppose,
The fragile sense of order,
That no one seems to know.
Categories:
lagging, america, political,
Form:
Rhyme
Christmas soon, very busy Elves,
the busy, busy, busy Elves,
all packing presents from the shelves,
all packing, each one tagged.
All checked, addressed then safely bagged,
then safely, safely, safely bagged,
the sleigh now loaded, warmly lagged,
the sleigh, its lagging gay.
Christmas eve, Santa on his way.
Yes! On his, on his, on his way,
Red-nosed Rudolf pulling his sleigh
Red-nosed happy elves done.
Christmas soon, very busy Elves,
Red-nosed, happy Elves, done.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Rhyming Wave is a poetry form created by Katharine L. Sparrow, an American writer and poet. She herself will tell you the form is complicated. Check her out http://poetscollective.org/poetryforms/rhyming-wave/
https://www.poetrysoup.com/syllables/lagged (flawed)
Categories:
lagging, christmas,
Form:
Free verse
God creates effortlessly, Himself medium, substance-source almighty – nothing can rub, manifest resistance to His Will --
God rested. Think not of fatigue...nor of a project completed, written in stone unchangeable, for God’s complete-perfect also allows for change-perfect. Think more in terms of the rests in musical compositions, heightening the experience of sound – think of the negative-space in art, that allows for imaginative schemes of enhancement. God can create and be finished simultaneously, ongoing. God is in and out at the same time. Up and down at the same time. Death is also resurrection eternal. The only finite is when man limits his understanding, attempts to reconcile flawless, endless continuity, by using fragmented thought patterns, our lagging sense of spiritual/physical reality. We see only bits and pieces of truth at a time, nothing comprehended entirely as it is (The I Am). As we evolve mentally, spiritually, physically, we draw from and add to the endless streams of conscious untold universes (countless dimensions)~ thoughts are substance. Not seeing anything clearly, fully, in its entirety, what we compel, reason, will out, through the eyes of love are man’s greatest attributes and revelations.
Categories:
lagging, analogy, christian, faith, inspirational,
Form:
Prose
Our Lovely Dog Snickers
I was directed today,
To a brand new web site.
It’s all about pets,
And some of their plights.
It got me to thinking,
Of a dog we once had.
She was part of the family;
I felt more like her dad.
When I was at work,
One thing I knew sure.
She was waiting for me,
Her heart was so pure.
When she knew it was time
For me to get home.
She’d wait by the door,
With a toy or a bone.
She’d have a smile on her face,
Her tail would be wagging.
Her affection for me
Never seemed lagging.
If I said, so she’d hear,
“I’m taken’ the truck.”
She always got excited;
She hoped she’s in luck.
If I went for a walk,
She was right by the door.
Looking at me,
With her leash on the floor.
Oh she was a shedder,
A hair-growing machine.
Our house always needed
A thorough vacuuming.
When it came time for bed,
She would stand at her cage.
She knew the routine,
was as smart as a sage.
Some time a while back,
I read of two men.
Who were speaking of Heaven,
But of course hadn’t been.
One fellow wondered,
Would they barbecue there?
Will they melt down smores?
Could the steaks be grilled rare?
Will they use charcoal briquettes?
Or does propane heat the air?
Would there be a choice of soft drinks
Or is it just water there?
Will the biscuits be golden?
Would they there use some leaven.
They were so filled with queries,
About life then in heaven.
Well one of the questions
I would ask of those two.
Will my Snickers be there?
On my slippers to chew?
Will Heaven be heaven?
If that really ain’t so.
Is it finally the place
Where I’ll want to go?
Is she still as anxious,
To run in the clouds?
Or are things there so different,
With men in white shrouds?
I’ll not forget how it ended.
Then came the conclusion.
Perfection in heaven
Is no foggy illusion.
For as my dog had her favorites,
Chew toys and a chair.
She’ll be as happy as ever
When her master gets there.
That seems now so clear,
That’s settled for me.
I have hope and joy,
As the end now will be.
If when at the gate,
I don’t my little dog see.
I’ll know I’m in heaven,
For my Master will be.
Written by oldbuck, after an afternoon of
Thinking about his little Snickers
And their possible “future” together.
Categories:
lagging, angel, death of a
Form:
Rhyme
He walks with me
Always in stride with me
Never too far in front
And never lagging behind
His step is just right
Always in step, at a pace
That is filled with confidence
And amazing grace
He talks with me
Always hearing my prayers
Never interrupting
Knowing when I leave anything out
Abiding there with me
Forever filling my heart
With assurance that He will
Guide me, stay beside me
Forever comforting and supporting
In His wisdom, He breathes
Encouragement, a guarantee
That He is the One
In whom I can believe
He shines His light
Into my soul – where I know
He sees all that I feel
Everything I think and every sound
That makes me who I am
He shines His light into me
Where I can’t even see
Allowing me the chance to be
His friend, His light, His child
The one who knows He is
Everything that I’ll ever need
He is the One I need
Through the good and the bad
The happy and the sad
Through glories and gladness
In laughter and tears
Through storms and fears
All through the years
I need His love from above
To reach down through the sky
Flash stars in my eyes
And color His child
In music that brings life
Songs of comfort and delight
Providing grace and insight
Assuring me that He is mine
AND – I am HIS
Categories:
lagging, blessing, god, inspirational, jesus,
Form:
Free verse
(Walking Seven Steps)
Catching the last shot of the sunset sky
Even more rustier than before
Delayed my departure.
I asked my friends to go ahead
And I would catch up with them, but
The perfect shot took longer than I thought.
Packing my bags I hurried downhill knowing
I was lagging far behind the others.
The thickness of the night engulfed me
And I knew I had lost my trail.
Stumbling over a stone I had also
Lost my torch, and started walking blindly
In the darkness of the woods.
The pitch black trees seemed statued
To the ones that breathed life
When I had often trampled
Through the varied wooded parks.
The autumn leaves were crackling
Under my light footsteps as
The tiniest crescent moon smiled
Through the bare leaved branches
Welcoming my partnership on our lone journey.
How long I walked, my feet knew not
How long I would walk, my heart knew not
My map was dark and my eyes could read it not.
But my ears were sharp to hear another crackling
Under footsteps many times heavier than mine.
From the dark slope above I saw a shadow enlarged
Hurrying down to my path as if to lead me out.
My breath was calm, my eyes happy, and quietly
My adventurous spirit followed him wherever he lead.
The woods became denser and our pace quicker
With a click of his finger the air became fresher.
So intoxicated was I with the heavenly air that
It perfumed my soul, my very breath and
Every transient thought that fleeted in,
Till I stood before a very flowery welcoming cottage.
I extended my hand to my shrouded partner and said:
'It takes seven steps together to make a friend.
We have walked more than seven steps together to......'.
My hooded companion most divinely intervened:
'It takes seven steps together to make a friend
It takes seven hours together
To make any journey most heavenly'.
Without raising his chin,without accepting my extended hand
He turned his back to retreat into the woods
As mysteriously as he had entered it.
Categories:
lagging, autumn, dark, friendship, moon,
Form:
Narrative
Justice delayed from fringed time frazzled cry
Until the DREAM can heal itself and broken trust
******* shackled minds in the velvet shadows try
Evolving with a nation drunken in bloody lust
Trapped in tragedy of a blurred emancipation line
Edged to the margin of Reconstruction, it tells
Empty enactment lagging that Constitutional hell
Nattering historic lies, blood and tongue dispels
Truth against the moral lie, all brotherhood a shell
Heaven's rich cause stumble in raged hearts to fill.
Categories:
lagging, black african american,
Form:
Acrostic
I got the wine sick blues and i paid my dues
Been wining and whining but not doing no shining
I got the wine sick blues
There ain't no easy way out of this moral drought
So my drunken pen flows as the lower she goes
Send me a letter when this damn world gets better
Don't like the news , put some miles on my shoes
Can't blame the man, if you jumped in the pan
I got the wine sick blues
The easy part's over, there's no bed of clover
Can't make the turn, if you spent what you earn
Days running wild like a forgotten child
Descending so fast, don't believe I can last
my poor butt is dragging and my mind keeps on lagging
Got nowhere to go, it's a rough row to hoe
Ray sings born to lose, but what do I use
Shed this old feeling, while the brain keeps on reeling
I got the wine sick blues.
For goodness sake, when do I wake
If I'm only dreaming, why am I screaming
Can't seem to pass through the broken glass
No wonder we cry while the prophets get high
Every now and then from my drunken pen
Comes a call to our youth to seek the truth
But my heart is sunk, maybe it's not so drunk
But still need the booze to light the fuse
I got the wine sick blues.
For Elliott Bowe's The Drunken Pen blog
Categories:
lagging, imagination, sick, wine,
Form:
Free verse
There is a stillness after the raging
storm, a quiet only disturbed by birds'
songs; so many joyful sounds now heard
the coos, caws, and chirping none lagging
Solid clouds still amassed, no zigzagging
from lightning flash, just gentle Hummingbirds'
songs heard and windchimes' music undergird
Is the Master a different scene staging ?
Yes, His plans will soon be in motion set.
This planet is facing changes unseen
before; the angels very soon will no
more hold the wind's destructive force_ and yet
Will He soon to earth come His own to glean?
His own He'll claim I know; then winds let go
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
Contest: Miltonic Sonnet
Written: May 01, 2014
Categories:
lagging, faith, life, planet,
Form:
Sonnet
Steel mountains tower over ancient minds
The mismatched soul anachronism
Instincts progressively lagging behind
Primitive brain sees a deep red cataclysm
Ghostly mastodons stalk the fluorescent plain
A daunting checklist of tasks today
Frigid rivers to be crossed in your brain
Endless list of invisible foes you must slay
A war without coffins, blood, or casualties
Teeth gritted, girded in polyester for battle
It’s knives in the back and social realities
No true combat; it’s never settled.
Unrelenting angst through every fiber
Forever hanging over the precipice of defeat
It follows you: a rapacious saber-toothed tiger
Implacable stare, neither attacks nor retreats
Gone is the clan, the intuitive belonging
Disconnected tribe inside your building
Every woman and man the empty longing
The neighbors you don’t know won’t come ringing
The dingy cement, windblown trash scene
Dreary and numbing external reality
You heart calls out for a deeper green
Light humming, phone ringing, no tranquility
No reason to fight for any tribe you see
Except, of course, your family on TV
Nothing to die for, unless the royal “we”
Beat the drum of prosperity or ideology
A Sabercat here, a Ghostly Mastodon there,
Back is bowed, veins on your nose
Run wrinkled hands through graying hair
A million drops in the bucket, it overflows
Just remember when you find
You don't understand the rage
That you are a savanna mind
Trapped in a modern cage
3/29/16
Categories:
lagging, anxiety, city, nature, stress,
Form:
Quatrain