Best Lumbering Poems
1#
Brewed tea
Wife and myself
Nothing between us
2#
He was metamorphosed
Into a frog
When his wife had left him
3#
I needed
A lonely woman
Thousand years back
4#
She shivered
In yellow sun
Struck by her coyness
5#
God travels
With three suitcases
One for me
6#
I kissed
Her frostiness
And my lips turned icebergs
7#
The bed
Gets embarrassed
At our nakedness
8#
Her hands
Stopped me
To pick evenings
9#
We two rested
In a cave of Kundalini
Behind the waterfall
10#
The alien woman
Travelled six moons
To deliver her baby in a burial ground
11#
An eagle swoops
On a field –mouse
Tables of wedding
12#
The woman kissed me
I felt her hollow ribs
As if in a spring dream
13#
The woman’s hair
Struck by a gale
Made waterfalls
14#
My wife locked
Me one fine evening
In my neighbour’s hole
15#
The rats are away
When mice take in
My wife’s clammy face
16#
The summer rain
In exasperation
Took wings to raid the moon
17#
Lolo my wife
Her green sleek steps
Thundered an innocent fly
18#
In the dead of night
God made two wives
One for me one for my neighbour
19#
My neighbour’s wife
Delivered a child
When I was asleep
20#
The woman said goodbye
And I took a fish for dinner
I mistook it for my wife
21#
My wife is a canvas
Where I paint
My forebodings
22#
A painter’s apprentice
In sheer foolishness
daubed in red my wife’s rear-view
23#
A squirrel saw my wife
And in haste
Lost her guava
24#
I was caught in neighbour’s bedroom
By my wife last summer
I lost my glasses
25#
A wolf entered the graveyard
Unannounced
And annoyed my wife
26#
Sarah my wife
Lumbering
Dizzy commuters
27#
Sarah wed me
And in brief forgetfulness
Greeted my neighbour
28#
A tiger ate Sarah my wife
It happened by accident
The tiger knows
29#
Morning bell
Wake up call
I want to sleep
30#
Pola my pet fly
Fouled things up
She ate my wife’s breakfast
31#
My dog Pintu
Hydrophobia
I set him free on my wife’s posterior
32#
Eons ago a butterfly
Gave birth to my wife
Now, a caterpillar
33#
A hard slap
Stammering
Hurricane Sarah will win
34#
You have gathered enough winters
Woman sighs
Leave one for me
35#
The woman flapped her wings
To clouded mountaintops
Silky as white
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Categories:
lumbering, god, grave, water, wedding,
Form:
Haiku
My Gallery
In upper part of my body
A cognitive bell rings
From a dial-up connection
of live wires
The modem is working just
To repeatedly provide
the facsimile of
Barren and bald paths
Inner lumbering of daily freight
Coiling, clutching upward
There is no vivacity
The vital force has parasited
How I inhale life?
My days and nights are bolted
Inside a brain cell,
My voice has held back
It lays a plan to brawl my soul
Residing in my own skull
Dictates notes imitating my tone
I couldn’t disintegrate my recall
As my shadow has left me
There remains Just I, me and myself,
Why is my brain a black hole?
Could it not be a universe?
Of a constellation of migraine, tablets
Syringe, backache and insomnia
Dream has become a dead pattern
As worn out as fossil led glow
Everything has become identical
Except the weight of consequence
That has variations of endurance
As I go through perdition
My imbalance will be rectified
Hang my art on the wall
As after allotted time
My gallery will end
Categories:
lumbering, 12th grade, body, conflict,
Form:
Blank verse
The snow mobile stops and sinks to the level of the snow, no more to go
Which way do I take for shelter the sure or the maybe
Deciding on a surety hoped the 200 miles was the best option … but how
can I survive this, gathering the necessities in a bag light enough to carry
leaving a note on the vehicle I start my journey slowly
snow shoes aren’t easy to manoeuvre when you’re tired and afraid
must gain ground by nightfall a shelter of snow to make.
Plenty of boiled water to keep me going today, but hunger tangs can’t be laid
Food: I must make a hole to fish, a fire to make and that shelter to build
I cut blocks of snow and make a shelter for the night
Had means of lighting a fire to give the bears a fright, cut a hole to fish
Am sitting here like a child with stick and string hoping for a bite
A great big tug tells me one is here, I pull with my might to land it near.
Hit its head to kill him with ease, I cut up and cook enough to please….
Suddenly I hear a whimpering noise I look up to see
A husky type dog looking at my tea, I throw it some fish didn’t touch the sides
As with a big gulp was soon in his insides, then he laid down close to me
Sharing my water and fish and the fire …..
Weird sounds of nature all through the night
My sleep was shallow as I worked out my plans
Had an early fish breakfast then started to walk
Had a companion with me didn’t feel so alone on these many days
Looked for berries not the white ones am told…will
Keep up my strength until I get home…..
The greenery I am advised are precarious to devour
Best keep to fish and berries a little every hour
Oh my what’s this lumbering this towards us
A bear , a black one, pulled my anorak over my head, I pray
Arms akimbo so I looked huge and made very noisy yells, bear walked away
A trappers hut smoke I can see, hope he will be as pleased to see me
Categories:
lumbering, journey, snow,
Form:
Epic
Even a sparrow soars
As its tiny soul
Climbs to great heights
Have you seen it?
Wings flat against the body
Brown bullet
Aerodynamically
Slicing through the air
Covering distances
In a twinkling
That we lumbering humans
Take minutes to travel
Surely it can reach heaven
More easily than we
December 7, 2009
Categories:
lumbering, animals
Form:
Free verse
I am a foodie, I must confess, I swim a few laps for exercise
Along come the Mollusk, and to my pleasant surprise
I have no restraint and they look so yummy
I just open my jaws wide, and fill up my tummy
Holy Mackerel, they make quite the feast!
Unlike that deepwater whale; Moby Vic, that lumbering beast
A real blow show, they eat any freak’n thing
Whale diet: Squid, Krill, Larvae, what distaste they bring!
Ah, catching up to the guys, what are they circling ‘round?
Heya Tom, Bill, GW, Anil. Rob, l see you’ve gained a pound
“I’m on a sea-food diet, I see food, I eat it!” Hee hee hee
Yep, you may want to stick to your day job, try a sea-shanty!
Look over there boys, the Seahorses, I hear they work for LYFT
Harry, how’s business, break for some sushi? California Roll, a gift
You may wanna giddy up, plenty of shrimp crawling beneath you
I know how much the Seahorse love to munch crustaceans too
"Shrimp—cockroaches of the sea! Not a kosher food"
Okay GW, what do you eat, my friend, set the mood
Gefilte fish recipe; grind the salmon, red snapper, codfish,
Onions, carrots, add eggs, sugar, salt, white pepper, in a dish
Stir in ice water, add matzo meal and chop, boil, voila, gefilte fish!
To the right of us, why it’s Lady L, my, she is swell
Small crabs on her menu, anything in the sand that dwell
Blowfish is a species that feeds on poison, dangerous to eat
They can’t hunt, they call ‘em puffers, just one puff’s a real treat
Anil, do you believe in sea nymphs on a blue oceanic parade?
Yes, I vision the lovely face of Wendy on the frame of a mermaid
Nil, come on now, aren’t you married, mate
OK, Tom, I’m going home, I won’t be late, I won’t be late
To the right of us the Starfish, greet the ladies of the sea
How they brighten the day, on display, as charming as can be
Pangie, Valsa, Andrea, Paula, Len, Kim, Eve and Gina
I know how you love snails, I bring escargot straight from the Marina
And so, my friends, another lovely day. Join us for our usual Activities and Brunch
6/11/22
Third Place
A Merger With Food Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Natasha L Scragg
Categories:
lumbering, day, fish, food,
Form:
Rhyme
As Miss Luby watches from her window
a moving van backs up
the driveway across the street
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
its warning cry has a beacon-like effect
on the neighborhood
arousing interest from all corners
everything suddenly shaken awake
Even the squirrels stop, stock-still
save an occasional flick of the tail
Miss Luby's cat, also
watching from the window
pauses momentarily, paw suspended
before continuing to clean herself
And one by one, the other inhabitants
invent clever ways to investigate
without seeming obviously interested
Miss Luby's next-door neighbor, Fred
flits outside to water the plants
in his front flowerbeds, distractedly
soaking the sidewalk instead
While dotty old Mrs. Pappadopoulos
puffs along, pulling her little Pomeranian
up the street for a “walk”
slyly turning her head, rather owlishly
as she passes by
Silvia, Miss Luby's other next-door neighbor
is still in her housedress and can't go out
so she sends her three beastly little boys out
to play, knowing they will get the inside scoop
and sure enough, within forty-five seconds
they have accidentally-on-purpose
sent a toy airplane across the street
and spend the next half hour retrieving it
following the new neighbors
in and out like so many
playful puppies
Not to be left out
of the hullabaloo, the hoity-toity
housewife from two doors down
high-steps out to size up the new arrivals
over-casually strolling with
her beautifully bundled babies in tow
putting on quite a show
suddenly disappointed
realizing they're just common-folk
not the kind she wanted to know
All the while, the new neighbors
exhausted, amble in and out
of their new home
staggering
under stacks of small pieces
lumbering along
awkwardly lugging larger ones
A teenage boy
silently glides past on a skateboard
giving side-eye to the boring, middle-aged
couple- as he is nearly hit by a car passing by
driver distracted by the moving van
Categories:
lumbering, community, humanity, humor, humorous,
Form:
Free verse
The Deamon Faire
The Deamon Faire
a paroday of a novel
the awful ugly was moving slightly impaired in the fire was slowing it down
it was the deamon faire come to the home
the little child asleep in the hay
the pussy willow cat came to catch the deamon faire
she crept near the crypt
the deamon faire lumbered near the mill
the mill was turning wheel almost captured pussy willows tale
she sounded like a deamon cat all wound upp and upp too bat
indeed the deamon faire looked like a hairy bat in a suit with the tie
the cat pounced at the deamon faire and missed the splash was a wet pussy
willow cat
she hissed the deamon faire sounded just like this
a long burning howl pulled over a wool scarf then turned into a screech
the outreach tried to reach the scene of the crime was an old pond milling and
lumbering and long
overgrown ivy trailing
meandering overblown moss
the author was right up to this point and then she lost her train of thought the
end of the book never tells us exactly what happened to the
The Deamon Faire
ed,note,ed
did you read Faire as FAIR or FAIRY oh what a Happy Birthday Paroday
a real live dead poet charlax poetry poem
Categories:
lumbering, adventure, birthday, fantasy,
Form:
Free verse
November
Falling leaves crunching beneath booted feet
Crispy mornings filled with pumpkin spice and doughnuts
Soft, warm sweaters covering sleeves
A misty frost across the once green garden plants
Warm, sleepy feet touching down on cold tiles
A flash of color cascading across the ridges that peak
Gentle giants lumbering up through the mountains…
In hopes of finding that winter’s hide away
Whispers of red, gold and amber…
Abiding across the edges of emerald pine
Alive with colors that can only be seen in the month
That arrives with Thanksgiving wonders.
Thanksgiving reminds us all to remember
The year’s blessings, gifts, talents and experiences…
All that we have to be thankful for –
Hope, faith and love that abounds within each one.
Thanksgiving is that perfect moment in time…
To share our joy and peace, our sincerity and serenity,
All that we love and care most about…
Especially Jesus, our Savoir and Lord!
©2018 by Regina Riddle
Categories:
lumbering, appreciation, blessing, celebration, holiday,
Form:
Free verse
All his tomorrows rattled by
rumbling along the predestined track
an endless freight train passing
as he sat in traffic at life’s crossing
Lulled into pseudo sleep by the monotony
of the swaying flashes of daylight
he had stopped counting the passing cars
sat in his loneliness, longing for the caboose
That fantasy of life’s last tomorrow
laboriously lumbering into view
blindly following all his yesterdays
disappearing in the hazy heat of passing
John G. Lawless
©11/7/2018
Categories:
lumbering, age, death, life,
Form:
Free verse
The grandstand is gelid by a sharp wintry breeze
Carried off from the field are the last of dead leaves
The shrill of the whistle, muffled calls from the crowd
From the tunnel stampede, metal studs echo loud.
With high, flick-tossing coin each Captain his reason
To kick-off with his mates a new rugby season.
The kicker announces starting ball high and long
And on lumbering wind sings a rugby man’s song.
Fifteen players below impatient stand waiting
Eyes fixed to the heavens, the ball falls rotating.
To arms of the hardest with sweetest possession
Grueling match has begun— the rugby obsession!
Steaming bodies in scrums, deep grunt of engagement
Weary boots grappling earth now frozen like pavement
By tackle-ruck-lineout, each man one-and-for-all
With a powerful push a try-bound rolling maul.
Players leaping for joy, heads of others hang low
Elation, deception such do rugby games go.
So Grand Final is here, a long winter has passed
The crowd and the speaker say it happened too fast;
Cut-throat right to the last; Wing, Second Row to Prop
A try, then conversion, to make every heart stop.
(Far left of the uprights flew last quiet ball spent
but with westerly drift over black dot she went!)
…
And with sweet summer grass blowing crisp in the sun
where butterflies frolic, spider webbing is spun
White sidelines are missing, fields all ripe, rich ‘n’ green
Rugby season has passed, but young spirits are keen
A rugby ball punted, a lone boy, polished boots
To play for his country, his dream built on grass roots.
-------------------
Alexandrine Poem in balanced six syllable cesurae for each 12 syllable line
Categories:
lumbering, friendship, games, sports, spring,
Form:
Alexandrine
As I lay curled in grandmother’s arms;
dreaming intently of butterflies fluttering.
Scented fields bestowing pungent charms;
where I envision honey bee wings a puttering.
Dreaming intently of butterflies fluttering;
weaving amid long blades of green grass.
Where I envision honey bee wings a puttering;
in the soft breeze that blows abruptly pass.
Weaving amid long blades of green grass;
I stalk a lumbering caterpillar marching by.
In the soft breeze that blows abruptly pass;
suddenly I am aroused by a doting sigh.
I stalk a lumbering caterpillar marching by;
scented fields bestowing pungent charms.
Suddenly I am aroused by a doting sigh;
as I lay curled in grandmother’s arms.
Copyright © 2013 By Caryl S. Muzzey
Fifth Place Winner ~ "Write me a poem …(about an adorable picture)” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Leonora Galinta
March 20, 2013
Categories:
lumbering, dream, green, love,
Form:
Pantoum
Once upon a time a hare challenged a turtle to a race.
A fox was appointed to establish the time and the place.
The hare made sport of the turtle's lumbering pace,
Saying, "I'll give you a head start so that you can save face!"
The race began and the hare became bored and lay down for a nap,
But the turtle plodded on since he was a determined old chap.
The hare woke with a start and not seeing the turtle in view,
Brushed the sleep from his eyes and away he flew!
He saw the turtle nearing the finishing line,
And mused, "No sweat! Everything will be fine!"
But old mister turtle crossed the line with a flair,
Out'fox'ing the hare and winning the race by a 'hare!'
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2015 All Rights Reserved
Categories:
lumbering, animal, humorous,
Form:
Couplet
~To hold as 't were, the mirror up to nature…
How sweet the Mimosa’s aromatic lure
with lumbering roots stretching and digging deep.
Leaning this way, that way as bodies mature
soaking up the rain, letting pure elements seep.
Spindly extensions that extrude really wide
draping rich earth bed where fallen blossoms dried.
Mimosa’s budding flower a sweet perfume
captivates senses with each coral red bloom.
Copyright © 2011 By Caryl S. Muzzey
Seventh Place Winner ~ "The Tree” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
May 19, 2011
Categories:
lumbering, sweet,
Form:
Rispetto
Stretching at the very heavens are the braches of autumn,
It is becoming the season of death, and mother natures promise
Of rebirth is with drawing, leaving nothing behind but stilled
Whispering echoes.
The very ground itself grows fidgeted, as winters icy finger tips
Strangle at earths raw under belly, finally it yields to the pains
Agony and nature lies slain, forced into hibernation’s sleep, until
Spring breath will awaken it at last, with resurrection’s sweet kiss of life
Once more.
A screeching black raven clings to the darkening skies, one by one do
These harvengers of death land atop the trees icy prongs that bend and
Brake beneath their feather weight of distain.
Dark eyed demons ever watching, waiting unto the night takes passion
Of this world of the living, these sentinels of the demonic peck, and strike
At one another with anticipations things to come by night.
A stilled silence blankets the forest; nothing stirs except the creaking of
The ice in a near by stream, on the path a sobering wind rustles at the deadened
Leaves that crackle in the fall breeze.
It so creeps forward the feeling of uneasiness, the soft breath blowing against
The back neck hairs of humanity, a lumbering heaviness boggs down the air itself,
Almost choking the life from all living things in the surrounding venue.
Excited the black birds take winged flight, soaring screeching, announcing it
Comes, it comes!!
Shuttering nature pulls its white snow covering over its very head, she even
Wishes not to see, this true face of evil that cometh forward, the ethereal trap
Door has been triggered, and what elopes onwards cannot be stopped by
Any powers on earth.
Blow does the trumpets of heaven, angels take to the winds of destiny, beckoning
The evil to with draw, but it mocks at them, screaming in a howling’s rebuking,
I listen not to the likes of thee!!
Then a light unseen for many a millennium comes forward, it is the light of
Everlasting salvation, then creature of darkness shall thee do battle with me,
Nay I will with draw, backwards from winnest it came it vaporizes and disappears.
In the woods there is a path, never to crossed by humanity, their thou shall not
Step, for the essence of evil’s cold chill still lingers, in the autumn chilling wind.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Categories:
lumbering, evil, fantasy, gothic, halloween,
Form:
Free verse
There’s a special whimsy place inside of each and every Troll.
And a rainbow will bring it out the best, if I may be so bold.
The Aurora Borealis makes them want to jump and sing.
But bring out a fancy rainbow, and they’re off, for it, to seek.
Apparently, it’s the colors that draw them to its beautiful lights.
So my son got out his prism, and played with the Trolls, late last night.
He had them hooping, and hollering, then scurrying across the floor.
Then he sent the prism to somewhere else, you can be, so sure.
Off they would go again, the winner bumping the others out of the way.
My cats couldn’t have done it better, but were smart and stayed away.
It’s not healthy to get in the middle, of a group of trolls found in play.
It didn’t seem to matter, that they couldn’t put it in their hands.
But they never gave up trying, to win the ultimate prize and upper hand.
Fortunately, they were in the barn with plenty of room to swing and fly.
Where walls can be replaced, and poles are easy, there, to mend and buy.
Of course, my son was in deep trouble, and would have to repair everything.
But the trolls didn’t seem to mind helping to put every thing back, again.
And the carpenter called to fix the posts was, you can guess, the football coach.
Apparently he thinks, they’d make great linebackers, to protect the quarter back.
All he seems to think they’ll need… is a little focus… I say good luck with that!
But he’ll have them working every day, till hell freezes over, before he gives up.
That does bid the question… Where did all those football players come from?
Could they be trolls, lumbering down those fields, in those professional teams?
Those fancy uniform colors, definitely, are like the prisms colors brought to life…
Could it be? Who would of thunk it? Yes, they are there… I certainly, Do Believe!
Categories:
lumbering, adventure, fantasy, funny, imagination,
Form:
Light Verse