Best Lurched Poems
Ride of the Scarecrow Clan
(To: Mittens)
She was born in the corn on a cold misty morn,
the most beautiful cat on the farm.
(I must keep her from coming to harm!)
The most beautiful kitty inspired this ditty
with whiskers that whisper her charm,
wild white whiskers that whisper her charm.
But the angels grew jealous, much too overzealous,
they schemed up a dastardly plan,
that they stole from a bad bogeyman.
They would use and abuse all their magic, so tragic,
and conjure the Scarecrow Clan,
for their devilish dastardly plan.
The Clan owed them a favor for past misbehavior,
behavior so foul and so cruel,
they would ride when moon became full!
When the moon elevated they rose animated
to drown Mitten’s in the cesspool.
As they hunted they started to drool.
Hunting high, hunting low, riding ‘round to and fro,
the Clan frantically searched helter-skelter,
for young Mittens who found a safe shelter.
As they howled and they growled all the air became fouled,
but they couldn’t find Mittens’ safe shelter.
“When we find her, in acid we’ll melt her!”
Could these four scarecrows stoop to even new lows
as they hunt by light of the moon?
(Better hurry the dawn will come soon!)
Long they hunted and haunted but she was undaunted,
she laughed at the bumbling buffoons,
while she purred out some kitty cat tunes.
Curled with grace in a space near the warm fireplace,
for the Scarecrow Clan fears the fire.
(Just the thought of it makes them perspire.)
So they searched and they lurched in the fields near the church,
growing desperate, dejected, and dire,
for the sunlight will make them expire.
Without warning came morning, but there was no mourning,
the angels’ black magic was shattered,
and the Scarecrow Clan riders battered.
Under natural law the Clan turned back to straw,
and their straw o’er the cornfield was scattered.
She'll be safe now and that’s all that mattered.
13-March-2020 (Friday the 13th). First Place in "A Rattling Rhyme" poetry contest sponsored by Nina Parmenter
Categories:
lurched, beautiful, cat, jealousy, magic,
Form:
Rhyme
I’m sick of hearing from old Bill that I’m a whimpish sort of bloke,
Because I don’t care for rodeo’s and can’t relate to outback folk,
That I prefer to travel in a car, when I go from A to B,
When I should be riding horses like Billy does you see.
I’ve never been upon a horse; in fact I’ve never patted one,
But at times I’ve been a victim from the damage that they’ve done,
When they’ve thundered down a racetrack with double-digit odds,
To leave my pockets empty and the good luck with the Gods.
So it was just a whim and foolishness that struck me at a guess,
That could have left me comatosed and in an awful mess,
When in a flush of inspiration of adrenaline attack,
Without a lesson or experience, I climbed upon a horse’s back.
I threw one foot in the stirrup and threw the other one to straddle
The horse’s back now that I’m on, while sitting in the saddle,
But with the motion of a gallop at a steady rhythmic pace,
I started slipping from the saddle and I quickly lost me place.
In fear I’m grabbing for the mane, but I couldn’t get a grip,
So I threw me hands around its neck, but then began to slip,
And I could see the ground below me was aiming at me head,
So I grabbed its nose to stop it, but it bucked on me instead.
It was futile hanging on now so I made a desperate move to jump,
But instead of reaching safety, me body lurched and I went thump,
For me foot’s caught in the stirrup so I’m bouncing in the fray,
With the horses pounding hooves close to just a foot away.
Now limply hanging upside down from the battering I took,
In me haze of consciousness I saw a crowd had formed to look,
Then me missus ran to save me when she took off like a rocket,
Over there at K-mart where, she ripped the plug out of the socket.
Categories:
lurched, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
I stood on a rocky shoal, regret lingering on my mind
Its fingers traced blood-filled lines along my bare arm
as if brittle veins in leaves, fallen from their tree
I was not blind to fear or its impending threat of harm
Whispers like the breath of death washed over me
Brief the moment seemed to be between light and dark
Shadows cast then fluttered in ebon depth of night
Twas foretold a tale of danger, imminent and stark
Pale moon risen, silvered orb stared at me from high
A cyclops beast waited to feast when time was right
Scarecrow in a fallow field, on his arms there perched
ravens who then danced on his head, raucously calling
Death rode on a pale horse and scavengers took flight
Fierce, my fright when from the sky, red eyes lurched
I stared in disbelief, knowing I'd no chance of stalling
Barren branches of leafless trees, maudlin limbs
frowned at me with forlorn face of a grim poet, Poe
My weak knees trembled; eyes filled to the brim
Frozen with terror, deprived of taking a last breath,
'twas not snow made me shiver; an ill wind did blow
Brisk the Winter chill when murder of crow took to air
after beady eyes sent a warning glance my way
An eclipse veiled the moon; and I, gripped with despair,
heard their caws, despite my flaws, denied Poe my soul
At water's edge I escaped death's claws on a rocky shoal
Categories:
lurched, death, fear,
Form:
Rhyme
I am very pleased to present a third collaboration with Robert Lindley,
an extraordinary poet who inspires and humbles me with his pen.
A Collaboration With Robert Lindley
27th October 2018
The root of the melancholy
he has not always known,
and perhaps, with strangers
and with unknown strangeness,
he has embraced its love
and loved its hateful wounds.
He prides the strength resting his bones,
the iron-glove that wields power grasped
in his haste to taste its honeyed glow,
anticipation seeds ever greater destruction
as horrific night dreams eat into oblivion.
The root of the melancholy
she has occasionally known,
and surely, among bitter foe
and boon companions lost,
she has lurched painfully from it
and pained herself yet more.
Blind to the curse, she begs for more
sharpening blades to spew the red,
eager for battle yet fearful the result
she prays dark gods lend power, not gold,
as dawn awaits its inevitable relief.
The wounds of devils not false
but gods surely true
persist within the marrow
of abject, seething, mortal slaves,
and morbidly caress and torment,
and the leaves are bitter as the root.
For in realms of dark - thirst so consumes
that even the chaff born from regret,
this the black seeds do replenish;
ever deeper moans from heartache and woes
resounding echoes from piercing stabs.
The hex is feverish as its birth.
Categories:
lurched, allegory,
Form:
Free verse
My alarm clock was set to go off at eight
When I lurched out of bed oh heck I was late
Forgot to move on the clock for an hour
I was late for work – no time for a shower
I dashed to get dressed at the speed of light
My son was laughing - he could see my plight
I ran to the bathroom to clean my teeth and face
My car keys were hiding, not in their usual place
Ran to the car in my receptionist attire
To my horror I found I had a flat tyre
Got out the jack and changed the spare wheel
Jumped in the car how the tyres did squeal
Drove to the office into the parking lot
But why it was empty – oh no I forgot….
Bank holiday the first week of May
BOTHERATION was all I could say
Drove home slowly, just like a snail
Just in time to open the mail
Then I did:
The washing and ironing,
cleaning and cooking,
(had a few chocolates when no one was looking)
the weeding and hoeing,
planted some seeds that needed sowing,
washed the car and mowed the lawn
then to the hairdresser to have my hair shorn,
sat down with a book and had a cup of tea -
need a bit of time relaxation for me,
Then I
washed and dried the dishes,
cleaned out and fed the kid’s goldfishes
bathed the kids and made them a snack
got in the shower and rubbed my aching back
adjusted the alarm for the right time in the morning
crawled into bed and then started snoring
Tomorrow when I go back into work
I won’t tell them my error or I’ll look a jerk!
05~11~15
Fictional write for Contest: Today I Accomplished
Sponsor Sara Kendrick
Categories:
lurched, humorous,
Form:
List
I went walking in the silent and stillness of winter,
It had snowed softly on this cold, cold night;
Homes glowed from deep within and sparkled bright,
A lonely snowflake kisses my cheek like a feather.
Wandering deserted town streets a solitary walker,
Park benches buried in the pure white snow;
Quietly an icy and frosty stream still ripples and flows,
And the shops are luminous in the town center.
At the church stained glass panes are welcoming,
The pristine snow lay on the steps in tranquility;
I bow my head in prayer recalling memories of family,
Whispering snowflakes fall on my hair blowing.
Faint a sound from something left near the church,
I approach the snow draped box, unsure;
And a mewing, mewing within the wet enclosure,
Then, a small forlorn white kitten lurched.
I cuddled the kitten in my arms brushing off each flake,
A lonely girl and a lost kitten together this night;
While the snow was falling and falling in sheets of white,
Kissing her head, I named my kitten, Snowflake.
_____________________________
December 6, 2014
Enclosed Rhyme Example For Contest
Categories:
lurched, lonely, snow, winter,
Form:
Enclosed Rhyme
I sat at the counter
drinking one too many
oblivious of those around me.
"Drowning your sorrows", she asked.
What did she know of sorrows?
"They float, you know." she said persistently.
I may have been drunk,
but always politically correct.
I forbore to swear. They float.
So I couldn't drink my sorrows down.
No alcohol would erase my pain.
"What is then the antidote to sorrow?"
I solemnly inquired.
"Perhaps love?" But that was a commodity
of which I had none.
So I could not reply
for I wanted none of her compassion.
Yet somehow she persuaded me to leave,
and almost knocking her down
lurched out of the smoke-filled bar
to the inclement weather outside.
I still wonder why we met again,
and again. Then we made love.
And I found some bliss
I had never tasted before.
Until the day she died.
So I returned to the smoke filled bar.
Just to have one drink.
A toast to my dead love.
But now I swear I'll never get drunk again.
I pick up my old man's white stick,
slowly make my way home,
sorrowful I could never see her face to face.
I ask myself again and again:
why was I born blind?
Categories:
lurched, love hurts,
Form:
Free verse
Lightheaded I ambled
towards the lonely pub.
Liquor helps sometimes you know.
It burns the mind,
empties it
of niggling thoughts,
of subtle yearnings,
of ambitious aspirations.
There she was
redhead and flushed.
A companion in distress.
We drank together,
confessed together,
envied together.
Time's up.
Outwards we lurched
hugging each other
towards the beach
where empty cabins
gave us respite.
Morning arrived.
She was not there.
Pity!
I knew not her name.
Might as well call her
whisky.
Categories:
lurched, abuse, addiction,
Form:
Free verse
I. Myth
A giant, I thought, fondly,
one that brought power first;
then, too, love, always love,
then, too, justice, wisdom;
you commanded the supplications
just as surely as your gods;
I thought it would reside in you
and preside over me forever.
II. More
Far more, I thought, fondly,
and gifts of bounty at hand;
then, too, power, always power,
then, too, justice, wisdom;
so, then, more the reward of good
and more the power of the reward;
you were sure it was yours
and divinity would surely follow.
III. Less
No less, I thought, fondly,
it was always these, I assumed;
then, too, those, always those,
then, too, less the malignant seed;
but assumption is deepest folly,
and greater exactitude held sway;
gone the lesser virtues,
less than the virtues pledged.
IV. Of And Or
I surely walked into a hemisphere
darkened by my own design;
but perhaps you walked, or lurched,
or clumsily something elsed;
perhaps into a hemisphere darker,
unwittingly darkened by folly;
I won't know until I get there,
and even then I might not.
27th June 2020
Categories:
lurched, father, god,
Form:
Free verse
Feverish The Hex
The root of the melancholy
he has not always known,
and perhaps, with strangers
and with unknown strangeness,
he has embraced its love
and loved its hateful wounds.
He prides the strength resting his bones,
the iron-glove that wields power grasped
in his haste to taste its honeyed glow,
anticipation seeds ever greater destruction
as horrific night dreams eat into oblivion.
The root of the melancholy
she has occasionally known,
and surely, among bitter foe
and boon companions lost,
she has lurched painfully from it
and pained herself yet more.
Blind to the curse, she begs for more
sharpening blades to spew the red,
eager for battle yet fearful the result
she prays dark gods lend power, not gold,
as dawn awaits its inevitable relief.
The wounds of devils not false
but gods surely true
persist within the marrow
of abject, seething, mortal slaves,
and morbidly caress and torment,
and the leaves are bitter as the root.
For in realms of dark - thirst so consumes
that even the chaff born from regret,
this the black seeds do replenish;
ever deeper moans from heartache and woes
resounding echoes from piercing stabs.
The hex is feverish as its birth.
A collaboration, Robert J. Lindley and Lawrence Sharp
Free verse, 10-27-2018
Note- My dear friend , it is such a great honor to compose with you this our third free verse collaboration. Each time you astound me with the immense creativity, depths, and exquisite beauty of your verses.
Categories:
lurched, art, creation, dark, evil,
Form:
Free verse
In dreams
i am always lurched by soothing zephyrs
across the lovely streets of Medina
Searching thy footprints
in the pious dust
ya Rasool Allah(s.a.w).
Every night i sleep with a hope in heart
to meet you
and in the morining i wake up broken and fragile
Ya Rasool Allah(s.a.w)
In the chills of night
I search thy reflection of beauteous face
in the moon
During day i kept on staring the sun
Ya rasool Allah(s.a.w)
As i write thy exalted name
with all emotions
My whole being dissolves in fragrance
Ya rasool Allah(s.a.w)
My heart melts with thy remmembrance
and my soul feels heavy on your seperation
Searching thy light in the chambers of heart
Ya rasool Allah(s.a.w)
You are the light of my eyes
and joy of my heart
and i always hear your blessed name
in my chest
Ya rasool Allah(s.a.w)
Categories:
lurched, angel, animal, earth day,
Form:
Free verse
The year was 1680 and I was travelling,
I sat in the carriage looking out the window;
The coachman was driving the horses quickly,
As a storm was approaching us from behind.
Thunder was booming and rolled over the forest,
Already raindrops were falling on the glass;
The sky was overcast with dark shifting clouds,
And everything was getting dull and gloomy.
This road was so deserted and remote from civilization,
I must admit that I was afraid.
Suddenly the carriage lurched and was falling over,
It bounced through the foliage, twisting and turning;
And then it stopped and all was quiet and still,
The coachman was dead and the horses also.
Struggling, I managed to climb back up to the road,
My corseted body, full overskirt of pink satin;
And parchment petticoat unsuitable for climbing,
The bun on my head loosened and my hair fell.
Oh dear, it was so dark and misty on the road ahead.
But I started to walk in the inkiness.
The forest around me was pitch black and frightening,
But there, through the trees a light was burning;
The rain was coming down in torrents that blinded me,
As I stumbled forward through the tangled trees.
A wood cabin was hidden in green lush vegetation,
It looked so secluded and isolated and lonely;
But I found myself banging on the door loudly,
As sheets of rain poured on me from up above.
And then the door slowly opened and light spilled out,
And I stood there dripping wet, and . . . .
________________________
August 22, 2015
Poetry/Narrative/Cabin in the Forest
Copyright Protected, ID 15-702-939-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Categories:
lurched, dark, rain,
Form:
Narrative
Many years have passed on by since the 'happening' on that night.
Long before huge bigfoot feet were causing such a fright.
A humid eve and very warm, yet simply summer fare.
I'd left the draperies open to let in late cool night air.
My spouse was in the land of nod with me not far behind.
That feeling one gets just before sleep makes the mind go blind.
But something caused me waken and I did so with a start.
The lump I felt deep in my throat was the pounding of my heart.
For peering through my window and pressed up against the screen,
Was a face of neither man nor beast, but something in between.
And was I fully on my game; I think I might have fled,
But reflex over came my fear, as I lurched from out my bed.
And in that following instant, lacking reason, rhyme or grace;
I grabbed the draperies in my hands and slammed them in its face.
Next I raced from out the room and every light got lit.
Collapsed with heart still pounding to ignite my cigarette.
I used my freshly muddled mind to think about the sight.
This creature need be nine feet tall to peer inside that night.
I reasoned with myself the facts, contained within the scene
And then convinced my addled brain, it had to be a dream
No way could I describe him, nor for all the years to come.
But when I learned of bigfoot; I surmised it might be one.
I kept the 'happening' to myself, so not to scare my sons,
As summer slowly strolled on by with blaze of fall to come.
Then nearly two weeks later; I was awakened in the night,
As the screaming of my oldest son, was subjected to my fright.
A face peered in his window, even though his bunk was tall.
The creature was the one I’d seen, same face, great height and all.
My son is now a granddad with slight memory of that time;
The summer of the creature thing, when he was eight or nine.
With all those years behind me; I still wonder what took place?
In the open bedroom window, with that awful bigfoot face.
© 2015 Diane Lefebvre
Categories:
lurched, dream, fear, goodbye, mystery,
Form:
Narrative
If humans chirped, chirped, chirped
What would it sound like if they burped?
Would it sound like a chirp-up?
Or like they got their leg caught in a stirrup?
If humans chirped and ate and burped
Would it sound divine or like they lurched?
Would it sound as if they ate worms?
Or ate lobster and with the cook they came to terms?
Ahhh, lets just wonder what it would sound like
if humans chirped and if they would use a mic?
By Susan Mills
Categories:
lurched, funnysound, sound,
Form:
Imagism
I have danced while music played,
and smiled, although despairingly,
through tears at smiles not meant for me.
Both soft eyes, though brown and drab,
have strived to glitter, with scant success,
as others shone bright, reflecting light
beneath their lashes, lush and long.
While I lurched in crazy drunken spirals,
others, precise, performed their pirouettes
and flowed across the polished floor
and smiled and laughed and more:
completely at their ease.
What terminal disease decrees
despair my partner in this dance?
Is there no chance to sit the music out,
a listener, discrete, devout?
While others whirl and dip, I slide and slip.
Must I be a half-a-pair with stumbling feet,
inept novice, graceless lout who, led about,
never has an easy air dancing with despair?
Categories:
lurched, angst, dance, depression, introspection,
Form:
Free verse