Best Loath Poems
You hang there on the rise of dawn
Bending twigs where you cling,
Glistening gems on sunlit lawn,
Where I greet you before you're gone,
Before my passions forlorn ding
While you gleam rays of spring.
How long dear will you glint and glow
Upon vibrant realm green,
My heart and I would like to know
For zephyrs of west will soon blow
To dethrone you from where you preen;
Oh! force of gale is mean.
How ardent you paint golden morn
Blushing on canvas gray;
Glinting rays my sight you adorn,
Assuaging grievous yore lovelorn
As verdant limbs gentle winds sway
Waltzing with lucent day.
Time has risen to bid goodbye,
Yet, you flinch, loath to part,
As sun paints arc in gamboge dye
When a fervent tear sparks your eye,
Heartening warmth love-vibes impart
Vowing to cure my heart.
Rodents can be loquacious
That includes your average gerbil
They love to prattle, chat and blather
They really are quite verbal
Hamsters are talkative too
Just as garrulous as can be
With running mouth and wheel to match
They are a sight to see
But I am loath to squander words
Sparing usage is my way
I gather them like so many acorns
Against a rainy day
Yes, word collecting is the passion
Of this precocious squirrel
I garner adjectives, verbs and nouns
Be they singular or plural
The park is fecund land
There a plethora may be found
Vociferous, vehement and vex
I lately scooped up off the ground
The verb tree is prolific
Its discovery quite a boon
The other day it bestowed upon me
Flaunt, foster and festoon
All along the sidewalks
Concrete nouns lie strewn about
How blithely I did snatch up
A lummox, a laggard and a lout
To command a better view
I nimbly scampered up a pole
From this lofty perch I spotted
Wheedle, coax and cajole
Away in the distance
I spied a tempting pile
Heaped up for the taking were
Enticing, alluring and beguile
What do I with so much verbiage?
You would be fair to ask
Squirreling away so vast a lexicon
Must prove a mammoth task
The answer lies in my arboreal abode
Where these many words I stash
In alphabetical order they are arrayed
From zealous to abash
In a capricious mood one day
I grouped them by part of speech
Such a cacophony arose from clustering
Banter, badger and beseech
No matter how I sort them
The wasting of words I spurn
Reserved for rarest use I keep
Reticent, laconic and taciturn!
_________________________________
by Brian McClain - Feb 17, 2016
Originally posted Feb 17, 2016
Accidentally deleted Feb 22, 2016
Reposted Feb 22, 2016
Atmospheric grayscale mirrors my mood
where rainbow pastels are loath to intrude,
monochrome perverse looms ‘cross universe -
black powder train, mind is gun barrel gray
cold dispassionate muzzle of dismay.
My happiness; my death will reimburse -
lifeblood bleeds an anemic attitude.
Susan Ashley
November 17, 2018
Withered memories invigorate, rekindling rhythm of heart,
Grabbing hold of me to retrieve elation of forgotten past
Throbbing in enchantment, treasured memoirs now impart,
Where decaying house stands, bearing grief seasons cast.
Up the hill I trek, gazing pastures glistening in dawning day
As glint of dawn slowly scintillates horizon shrouded gray
Amid mooing calls of cows, where mango trees gently sway,
Waltzing echoes of yore, clucking~ clattering hens convey.
How regally it welcomes me, my cherished childhood place
Beckoning as it peeks through the creaking old metal gate
That opens wide its fatigued frame, exuding welcome grace,
Lamenting of rusted hinges, squeaking of weathered fate.
Buoying on impulses serene, you enter boldly realm green
Fixated in pristine meadows~ burbling tenor of streams,
Holding my indulgent embrace, there you proudly preen,
For being blessed to own endearing piece of idyllic dreams;
Envisioning an intimate chalet, built on love felt and known,
Where cattle graze, birds built nests, animals freely roam,
Among paradise of orchards, vines, bedazzling as it’s grown,
While rusty old gate, loath to moan, beholds bliss of home.
July 1, 2022
Placed 1st: One In Five Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Joseph May
This old oak-tree smiling through my balcony
Sways and swings cheerily, a happy emissary,
Budding new vigor upon tiny greenish leaves
Adorning exuberance of idyllic new morning,
Quivering golden-beams on dawning of spring.
When the sun rises, blushing mauve feelings,
Its gentle oscillations fetch tender sensibilities
Inviting sparrows to grace the stage of robins
In spontaneous outburst of ceremonial music--
Chirping, twittering, singing for the hatchlings.
As summer of my mind churns wistful stories,
Its white blossoms waltz tender warm breeze
And leaves flutter merrily, twirling to comfort me
When thoughts bygone nudge parched vagaries
Engrossed in realm of burned-out memories.
When autumn turns green into fiery-red leaves
As ruby sundown glitters on amethyst evening
And gusty winds rustle-in endlessly, ferociously,
Whirling flying colors, floating crimson revelries;
A few remnants cling-on, loath to forsake me.
Yet, brazenly I gaze away, ignoring its appeal
When harsh winter shudders essence of its being,
Quivering, shivering bare-skinned branches;
Staying beguiled instead on top of frozen hills
Where sunset articulates ochre-tinged themes.
May 26, 2020
Poem of the day on May 28, 2020
Placed 2nd: Brian's Choice Y Contest
Memory or dream from hell I cannot tell
The vision of stygian forests where harpies dwell
And men from them among men spawned
Greedy gullibles that on pagan mysteries fawned
Evicted from stygian caves to wander bared
Of human comport and yet in human shape
By cultures of war in Cerebus’ loath prepared
These monsters of men defy, steal, kill, rape
The African land still, and virgin virtue defiled
In all her children stolen, manacled, despised
Toss upon dread waves like dead meat, disguised
From pity of sharks, innocence, kindness biled
By the same fiends frantic at the Judean cross
And this colonial evil is unsurpassed in dross.
They should have known such deeds are wrong
If they had known we are people too, and he
The Eternal light, the bringer of the griot's song
How they murdered him in grim glee of prophecy:
When each of us are enslaved or kill, he dies
Again in that wickedness entrenched in vanities.
I dream of the feeling, of not feeling too much
Being pleasantly mild, unbothered by touch
I imagine, I’m average and pleased to know
Achievements take effort. I’ll go where I’ll go
As for uncertainty, I’d choose not to dwell
But go with the flow, through life I would sail
A change of direction would not stunt my growth
To new opportunities, I’d dare not be loath
I’d swiftly adapt as my options evolved
No chores left undone. No problem unsolved
I’d begin living life, beyond my emotions
Concrete and 3D, new doors would be opened
But even this longing, is only dream deep
The cost would be high and path, far too steep
To compromise intensity, passion and brains
Would flush my own gifts down society’s drain
I’ll accept my quirks, extreme highs and lows
I’ll live my best life, without letting “me” go
Written: December 19, 2023
"His style has the desperate jauntiness of an orchestra fiddling away for dear life on a sinking ship. Edmund Wilson"
____________________________________________
With each fresh day, leaves on trees grew dry.
Stream flow had ceased in the vast waterway.
Enormous boulders collapsed to dust!
Perched on lonesome island of my life fust
I tasted the bitterness of shattered dreams.
Walls stood in my path, hindering laud gleams.
Depart from my delicate and feeble universe!
My nightmares shattered all hope, into a curse.
Departing with daunting sadness and failure.
Wallowing in self-pity, longing for a torn sailor.
I am seriously suffering through my fate!
I was startled when I heard a faint whisper sate.
Optimism is a belief that can lead to success.
Even if roses are cut, spring will still progress.
Shift focus toward kindness, not dwell on pain.
Twiddle to the glorious sky to rise once again.
There are no desperate situations, they say.
Only desperate people endure; they convey.
In the pits of anguish, hope might dwindle.
We mimic inner force to rise without a swindle.
There, within the deepest recesses of our minds.
In a land where shadows hover and dismay binds.
A faint glimmer of light starts to flicker.
We will strive for perseverance and vigor.
Who are these people, you might ask?
Ones who will fit any extent for their task.
They are those who are eager for success.
Steadfast in their quest, they never digress.
They are the skeptics, rebels, and bold.
Who is loath to be tethered by societal mold?
They overstep limits and breach walls.
Unabatedly, their tenacity never stalls.
Ready to accomplish a wide range of things.
They have no fear of spreading their wings.
No snag is too vast, or argue that is too tough.
They are keen on any cost, even if it is rough.
Grace flows, twists, turns, renewing spun gold.
Heaven's enduring doors continue to enfold.
Wistful soul is overtaken by delight scope.
Phoenix emerges from the ashes of lost hope.
You walk through the metal detector
You look at me with a deep seated scorn
You loath that I made you remove your stuff
You had to take off your shoes belt and jewelry
You’re thinking “I’m no criminal or terrorist so why me”
I am only doing the job the government requires of me
I am not the reason you are harassed and had to partially strip
I do empathize with you seeing I have to do the same thing too
No one cares that I am a Screening Officer I am searched when I travel
The government says what’s good for the goose is good for the gander
You want to get mad at someone then look in the right direction
The ones who blatantly took the lives of our families and friends
Who took the choice of traveling to most places away forever
Who took the privilege of carrying most things on board away
The freedom to travel with our liquids and gels peanut butter and jam
Don’t blame me because I am risking my life to keep you safe
Don’t blame me for someone not caring about your fate
Don’t blame me for what Mr. Harper and Mr. Obama says
Or for what the UK says is their Standard Operating Procedures (SOP)
Don’t blame me I am just the messenger that holds many lives in my hand
~THE BOY~
I can not see the boy..
I can not feel the boy..
The boy who stands in front of me..
I want to open his eyes!
"HE'S ALL ALONE!"
"HE'S ALL ALONE!"
I see pass his lies!
Surrounded by the stupidity of everyone..
Indulged by the sea ~ Of only me
He sees no waves ~ He feels no waves
This boy can not see me..
This boy can not feel me..
This boy who holds me in his arms..
Screams are hidden in the corners of my mind..
I do not wants to be seen..
He does not want to be felt..
Sadly I found him ~ and he found me
I use to refused at every opportune moment
Slightly in one fall
He fell ~ I fell
In front, is all i'm left to say..
The mirror he blocked
The mirror I blocked
We both look in ~
The vision ~ only goes one way
With my broken heart
With his broken smile
We gazes at the world around,
and realizes it has no eyes..
Selfish pride ~ Selfish needs
Life has been broken
"SO MANY TIMES!"
"SO MANY TIMES!"
He chooses not to care
I choose not to see
Some where in there I loath love,
and still he took me and shook me..
He made me see ~
But still I choose not to see
I will never win!
That boy took me by surprise,
and yet he's the one that opened my eye's
INSTEAD!
by; p.d.
When the fall came we knew everything had changed. Whispers through the Aspens became a shrill voice of winters warning. He was changing like the seasons. They didn’t understand it at first but it became more apparent as time went on. The old man was tied to a cycle and that cycle was the changing of the seasons. In the fall he was anticipatory and melancholy. Sometimes irritable and other times reflective of his life. He had lived here for 20 years. Twenty years in a nursing home…who would do that to a man? But he took it all in and lived on despite the wrongs done to him. He was usually a gentlemen but he had his temper and God hope you weren’t working that shift. Christ. But as time went along he came and went and we all got used to the cycle. And he didn’t seem to notice. He had cancer and it was going to kill him. Sooner or later. He was working on later.
He used to say, “There is a spring that flows eternal, and I am swimming in that spring." He told us he would out live all of us and see us in that spring if we were good people. I’m not sure how good or bad I am but I would like to see him in that spring, if only for moment in time.
I can’t do it anymore. I can’t go and see the old man. He's almost gone and I don’t know what say to him. Brown tobacco stains run down his chin and he’s all dressed up on like them old people. It hurts me. It really hurts me. He is my future and my end and my beginning. It’s a cycle that was invented by a sadist. But he lives on. And I think of that spring and wonder when I will be swimming in it one day. Will I see him and all my children? Will I be able to locate my dogs? I hope so. For living on earth is heaven but crossing the river and getting to the other side in one whole piece must be paradise. I pray for those around me. And I hope that I have not done too much wrong that will keep me in this dark place I loath.
The likelihood between myself and a beast,
Surpasses my self-grotesque-depiction, at least.
I loath the day I entered this death spiral twirl;
In this vicious tornado-self-esteem-crawl.
Only one sweetest venom sip it takes,
To make me be a slave to the demonic taste.
Enslaved are my legs from knee below,
Enslaved are the thoughts that come too slow.
My body gets so numb that nothing scares my skin,
Capital sins do not feel so full of sin;
I crave to do what is forbidden still,
To speak the cruelest things I have an itching will.
The street light comes to me in rainbow colored streams,
I love the way my mind feels reality like dreams.
I am both wide awake and sound asleep;
I laugh at nothing and I truly weep;
With passion, my blood makes love to wine,
My neurons are crushed grapes on the body’s vine.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You turn and risk two smiling eyes my way as I walk in..
how pretty you look sitting upright in that little bed.
Quietly whisper, how well your bridal gown now would fit,
imagining our dream wedding dance in your fever'd head.
And do you still hear the sweet music of the love we made,
in a different room, full of flowers, where children bloomed?
Those memories savored now, where you, my heart's saviour laid,
the shadows drowned by your brilliant glow in musky perfume.
Tired nurses and CNA's steal a glance behind misty glasses,
at a star'y eyed groom longing to see his bride in prime.
Unafraid of death's grasp, I pulled away your tear-filled mask,
dared kiss two lips in precious life that hugged me one more time.
If loving you proved lethal, or a lingering disease,
then let it linger. I need no cure for what's shared within.
Warm hands and laughing eyes so cherished., I'm now loath to leave..
so please stay here with me, sharing in all that love was meant.
Books are resource for them who deplore
Idiocy, silliness, folly. Where absurdities encore
There books no place get and can’t decor
Them into ideal from idle I am cocksure.
Saraswati lives in them to downpour
Knowledge, Gen and Expertise’s store.
Foolish loath them, wiser lavish more.
Now changing form - pulp earlier at core
Now e-form in mobile showing its hoar.
Now or then, book is a book for sure –
Without we are incomplete. Oh Thor!
Burst on those idles and cloak wore
Of giant to teach leave their amour.
So friends, leave thy laziness at floor
And join me in my swelling score.
Many nights I've sat typing things for which none will ever read.
Burning midnight oil only to add to this mornings trash.
Then going about the act of pretending it's all good.
Wearing a mask of my own creation.
These long nights of endless confession to empty wall's.
Hollow thoughts from a bitter heart to scared to exist as himself.
The page lay beaten only to be erased.
the circus of life is a deception for after the show when the dust settles
the magic gives way to truth.
Tempers flare and thoose happy clowns appear to be just angry ordinary
people who hate and loath there so called friends.
Dream that it would have all been diffrent if not for this or that.
never taking blame just putting it on others like normal so called adults.
These long nights breed anger and that page takes the punishment
and like a coward I look apon this act of pure thoughtless work.
And second guess myself wishing only for the approval of people who yearn only
for the approval of some one else.
Like hamster in a wheel never getting anywhere.
For who wants to be themself when you can be a watered down version of someone who
wasnt good to start with.
I cant say the comforts of being a clone wouldnt be nice .
But I never did like things that were nice.
Never cared about being on a list or kissing someone's rearend just
to have them talk about me as soon as my back was turned.
Be yourself and cherish thoose who hate for the bitter and cruel amount to
nothing and there only hope is to lure you down there same dead end life.
The clown tries in vain to make you laugh.
The fool doenst know or care if you laugh.
And me Im just the jerk adding to the mornings trash empty
as the page that sit's befor him.
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