Best Mangles Poems


Premium Member Past Times 2

Five stones
                closing times
radiograms and
              seventy-eights
school caps
              sticklebacks
saturday flicks,pooh sticks

Charabancs
              steam trains
linoleum
              oil cloth
mangles
              fish paste
sandwich spread

Hot towel shaves
        cut-throat razor
shopping baskets
          paper bags
braces,plimsoles
short,back
          and sides

Wizard beano
        and hotspur
lending libraries
picturegoer,
                road to
Bridget Bardot
            Marilyn Monroe

Dripping
          coal fires
antimacassars
nylons,suspenders
crumpets
          and toast

Brown and mild
        barrelled beer
conkers,school milk
blackboard rubbers
          and liftup desk lids
times-tabled
                school-kids

Draughts
        and allotments
rusty bikes
        roller skates
satchels and scrumping
pounds,shillings
            and pence
Categories: mangles, nostalgia,
Form: Rhyme

Faces of Loneliness

I stare across the concrete ocean.
People evaporate like raindrops 
in the heat of summer skies. Dreams of love 
become the vapors, disappearing before my
eyes. I feel alive in the pain; yearning 
pours from the depths of my soul, 
all I abhor…loneliness pounds in my head, 
stealing my every thought. On crowded 
streets, I feel most alone. Amongst nameless 
strangers I am lost, a foreigner without a home.     

Then, there is she. I see her glide 
through the faces. She, the perfect one, 
with her flawless graces, her flowing hair;
she is but a shell of beauty, bare skin hiding 
perversity, she woos with plastic smiles. Why 
do they flock to her, entangled in her shallow words, 
swallowing her seeds of lies? Her laughter hangs 
in the blue. Why do they love her as she mangles? 
Do I sound jealous? No…just lonely.
I wonder if she is lonely, too.

I walk further up the road where concrete 
turns to pasture. Feet fall under rich, 
velvet skies. If only I would disappear
into the darkness, surround myself with   
anguished souls who wear masks 
of day-to-day life, masks of lies. Trivial tasks 
dilute their hours, passing the time until sleep 
relieves despair; lonely faces blanketed until morning
light shines into their empty corners. I cross 
familiar ground, places blinded by shadows. 
Reminded, I am one of them.

Stained-glass yesterdays shatter, slashing 
promises…I fall deeper and deeper 
into my wounds, crashing. Who will rescue me  
from bitterness? No answer…
The deafening silence of humanity 
never explained. I hear only my own wails of mercy 
to God. Love never fails…I hear the words from my 
own lips feigned, and I realize…I have never known love.
Some crawl to their deathbed, eyes fall, lonely;
their last words whispered to no one. Is this my fate? 
I wait...No answer.
Categories: mangles, heartbroken, lonely,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Routine 3

Look closer now:
In just a point --
All things abide


First aid kit
Small cut;
Blood ooze colours


Bad dream
Nightmare taunting;
Fear intervenes


Out of sync
With myself;
A flu bout mangles


Back home Wednesday
Nursing jet lag;
Sleepy adjustment


Home sweet home
Notice the aura;
Rest works best


Diary entries
Messy thought flow;
So much babbling


Souvenirs collected
Keepsakes to tuck away;
Memory milestones


Gifts for people
To keep in touch;
Sacred sanctuary


For a short while
A Chinese terrain;
Now equatorial blooms 


Words and more
Cryptic collaboration;
Strange deluge


Be of good cheer
Laughter frames zest;
Despite the pain


Leon Enriquez
03 June 2014
Singapore
Categories: mangles, deep,
Form: Haiku

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


My Child-Love

Now that love's hands have lifted from my searching eyes, I have begun to see. I look at the faces of those who love has captured, and my misanthropic vision clouds their joy. Don't they know what love will do to them? It will consume them, body and soul. It will control their minds and make them do things they swore they would never do. And once love's soft touch wraps around your finger, you can never let it go. Like a child, it grows. It then holds your hand, and demands to be carried, even when it has grown too big. Love wraps its legs around your waist and its arms tightly around your neck. You can still breathe, but only when love lets you.
My love has become hopefully vulnerable. It sees those that it has loved before, and those who have loved me and it tugs me along as it tries to pursue them. I trip over my own feet, I feel awkward and unwanted. But love doesn't understand that. It is blissfully ignorant, and it does not realize the destruction it causes within my heart and soul. It welds, twists, and mangles the metal of my strong heart. It entices my soul, then disappoints with flawed morale. 
But through all this, I hold on.
© Molly Hill  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: mangles, children, emotions, heart, love
Form: Free verse

The Ghost of Bill Zison

A Penn Valley phantom appears to haunt and lurk
   premises at 1148 Greentree Lane
his youngest daughter (Abby) I pledged my troth and, natch won my Zison’s 
Dunkirk
  ire and vindictiveness akin to rivalry of Abel versus Cain
now breeds and festers hallucinations that make me go berserk
 also brings to mind myth of another named King Canute, a Great Dane
whose battle cry and hymn of the Republic made manifest with ease of dirk
  visitations with ethereal sprite pushes me to madness and makes me go 
insane
torture treatment mangles mental management amidst mire and murk!

The rattle of chains heard despite noiseless apparition and wraith, which curse 
and bain 
from dark and sinister shadows make me feel like a jerk
at such fallacious belief in preternatural imaginative creations ranked as inane
by this skeptic whose vulnerable acuteness to otherworldly visages does perk
especially during wee hours of morning when superstition runs amuck and 
seems to gain
upper hand and let spiral out of rational control thought of afterlife quirk 
yet confession must be made that long dead father of wife does wag finger of 
disdain
and utter silent disapproval and near ruination by marrying a bum of a guy who 
lacks for work!
Categories: mangles, funny, husband, introspection, me,
Form: Light Verse

Premium Member Those Were the Days

Five stones     
                 closing times
radiograms and
               seventy-eights
school caps
               sticklebacks
saturday flicks,pooh sticks

Charabancs
               steam trains
linoleum
               oil cloth
mangles
               fish paste
sandwich spread

Hot towel shaves
        cut-throat razor
shopping baskets
          paper bags
braces,plimsoles
short,back
           and sides

Wizard beano
         and hotspur
lending libraries
picturegoer,
                road to
Bridget Bardot
            Marilyn Monroe

Dripping 
           coal fires
antimacassars
nylons,suspenders
crumpets 
           and toast

Brown and mild
        barrelled beer
conkers,school milk
blackboard rubbers
          and liftup desk lids
times-tabled 
                school-kids

Draughts
        and allotments
rusty bikes
         roller skates
satchels and scrumping
pounds,shillings
             and pence
Categories: mangles, childhood, history, nostalgia,
Form: Verse


The Ghost of Bill Zison

A Penn Valley phantom appears to haunt and lurk
   premises at 1148 Greentree Lane
his youngest daughter (Abby) I pledged my troth and, natch won my Zison’s 
Dunkirk
  ire and vindictiveness akin to rivalry of Abel versus Cain
now breeds and festers hallucinations that make me go berserk
 also brings to mind myth of another named King Canute, a Great Dane
whose battle cry and hymn of the Republic made manifest with ease of dirk
  visitations with ethereal sprite pushes me to madness and makes me go 
insane
torture treatment mangles mental management amidst mire and murk!

The rattle of chains heard despite noiseless apparition and wraith, which curse 
and bain 
from dark and sinister shadows make me feel like a jerk
at such fallacious belief in preternatural imaginative creations ranked as inane
by this skeptic whose vulnerable acuteness to otherworldly visages does perk
especially during wee hours of morning when superstition runs amuck and 
seems to gain
upper hand and let spiral out of rational control thought of afterlife quirk 
yet confession must be made that long dead father of wife does wag finger of 
disdain
and utter silent disapproval and near ruination by marrying a bum of a guy who 
lacks for work!
Categories: mangles, funny, husband, introspection, me,
Form: Light Verse

Pain

My unbearable pain tries to choke my soul
Trying to take over
Trying to swallow me whole
 
It mangles everything that I ever believed in
Making me think
Think that I committed a shoddier sin

It tears at my heart
Till it pours crimson red
All the memories raging through my head

Being in a act, like putting on a play
Screaming the words,
That I will never be able to say

Trapped in this bleak depression state
Try to block it all out
The cold, the tears, the hate

I watch helpless as the days march on,
Watching it all wither away
To be forever gone

Draining ever last bit of happiness and hope
So hard to keep back the tears
So hard to try to even cope

Slowly creeping into each and every vein
Beating me down
Just pouring like the rain

Wonder what the future holds for me
Afraid to look ahead
Just to even peak and see

That it all just got worse from the start
Couldn’t stay in control
Everything just fell all part

They all think my life is peachy keen
They don’t know what’s going on
What all I have seen

It seems I have it made but I hide it with a smile
This feeling never meets death
It’s been lurking there for a while

Can’t escape this empty dreadful fear
Don’t leave me alone
To yell those words I hate to hear

Take me apart piece by piece
Just wishing one great day
This pain will all cease

Laying in bed to think of a cold way out
But their hearts are like stone
Love, ha, I doubt

They took away everything that meant the most
Wish that this was all over
That this would all just coast

Mirror, mirror, on the wall
Is there anyone there
Anyone that cares at all

I go run away to my hiding place
To get away from everything
Away from their relentless face

All these thoughts just torture me
Leaving me here
Open here for all to see

Just cut me up with the jagged pain
Barely gripping reality
On the verge of being totally insane
Categories: mangles, angst, lifeme, pain, me,
Form: Rhyme

Aching To Be Free

Hope rang hollow today
It's echo was a moan
A lament for wisdom
That is now no use
After the event
That caused so much pain

Time
With its disdain for rehearsals
It marches on
Dragging the tears
That emotions in turmoil
So wantonly create
Leaving us with memories
We achingly ransack

Sorrow
It mangles hope
With its pitiful backwards stare
And its stifling myopia
The future has no flavour
The mind cannot be at rest
Forgiveness can never be achieved
There is no release from internal strife

Peace
It helps hope to heal you
It could sets you free
It might protect your psyche
It  may comforts you
Peace takes time to bear fruit
It never transforms completely
It is often all too temporary

One day things may be OK
Today they are nominally better
Yesterday  it all was bleak
Hope may help us
Find what we seek

Hope give insight
Can be a close friend
Forever swaddling                
Never letting go
Categories: mangles, hope,
Form: Prose Poetry

Tamed and Tied

To give glory to Satan I'm sorry to sound,
Though bitter a truth I've certainly found:
Some sons Satan has strictly tamed and tied,
(Forbid O Lord I might have lied).

On wicked ways their thoughts hidebound,
As devil dictates they gullibly go round;
They have become his bond-servants and lieges,
In enemy's bondage who artfully besieges.

And they sorrowfully lead their breath on earth,
The dragon depraved them their mission and mirth;
Them he mistreats and mangles and mocks,
And laughs at loud and in the searing Lake of fire, he locks.

But listen, you who are tamed and tied:
How long will devil destroy you and deride?
Subject your soul to the Savior's side,
 And He will right reward you with a free ride.
Categories: mangles, religion,
Form: Rhyme

Dark Side of the Moon

this is a twisted little tale of a moon king cult leader on death row...enjoy and employ

to all of my fans and fanatical fantastics...to all of my disciples of doom...living and breathing on the dark side of the moon
my heart reaches out to you...and it bends and breaks fortified steel locks and iron bars
no matter how near and no matter how far
through prison doors and electrified fences...my grip on the goal has no consequences
through gun tower killers and soul sucking police,priests,politicians,pigs of power and other bad boot lickers

my thoughts transcend time and space...monster in your mind...mad moonbeam in your face
i traded lunatics lies for that terrible truth...i'll see you all soon...on the dark side of the moon

harvest moon's coming like a nuclear blast...seperating the wheat and burning the chaff
i can hear war drums bang and guitars slash as mankind and money turn to mountains of ash
as democracy demons keep singing that same sad song of fools...i'll see you all soon...on the dark side of the moon

condemned and convicted with an addiction that's tragic...my mind mutilates and mangles the masses

the judges and juries of anger and fury,soon they'll scatter and scurry like roaches and rats...9 billion lives spent like genocidal cats

i'll fly like a bat straight out of the pollution...i'll bring a holy holocaust and start a righteous revolution

still i shine like a star to the sad ghosts of gloom...i'll see you all soon...on the dark side of the moon

the moon is now full and the sun is eclipsed...in trances of terror minions go on deathtrips
i slide and i slip...strapped to a black table

brutality beasts brainwashed with bloodlust...believers in fairy tales and fables and diamonds from dust
pronouncing the sentence and pumping the poison...
i sprout wings...i'm free to fly to my kingdom
now i sit on a throne made of thorns and tombstones

ps i love you all and i'll see you all soon...on the dark side of the moon
king lunar the loon

anthony_beesley@yahoo.com
Categories: mangles, epicdark, dark, moon, sad,
Form:

Where the Serviettes Go To Die

After Analicica Sotelo’s Death Wish


Her swollen eyes speak a different version of ASL for those of us who understand it,

But not too many of us understand it because her composure is thicker 
than the makeup she uses to hide the wrinkles taking over like tyrants. Before

wet tears moved in like my unemployed cousin on Welfare
Leaving only the crystalized, microscopic, residue of constant failure

And salty circumstances, I’m sure it tastes a little like Fireball and Jose Cuervo
Because that’s what she hopes to replace her blood with ‘cuz her heart deserves a drink, too.

And she can’t recover because Ed Sheeran’s “Dive” pounds in her mind all the time.

So she mangles her napkin till its remnants scream mercy and tap out
Only to grab another one, because in her hands are where the serviettes go to die.

She begins to twist it, and it no longer holds a purpose. The frail sheet becomes a casualty
of war, enemy fire going off, paranoid shot glasses being slammed down all around her 

But that napkin could have easily held a lipstick printed number that could have
Been passed on to some down-on-his-luck schmuck looking to comfort himself 

Maybe even comfort her enough so that she forgets no one is watching. I see her.

Time cares for no woman and stops for no man but for just a second it watches her
Intently as it wraps its minutes and seconds around her throat and squeezes so tight

Her eyes begin to bulge, and she struggles to gasp that last bit of air trapped 
In her gullet. It’s too late for her because her perfectly made up face won’t allow the

Others to call 911 and she loses consciousness with the twisted napkin still in her hand

But right as time is taking her life it loosens its grip, “she has suffered enough!” 
He shouts out in ASL while the alcohol takes its course one last time.
Categories: mangles, absence, abuse, addiction, conflict,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Forties Footles

Five stones
   school caps
pooh sticks
  film flicks
short back
           and sides

mangles
 oil cloth
   braces 
 plimsole
dripping
           and toast

satchels
  school milk
cut-throat 
    razor
 coal fires
      and draughts
Categories: mangles, car, childhood, nostalgia,
Form: Footle

Premium Member Exchange Rate

( depiction of our hoochie heroine being 
        nailed by a stranger on his car) 

Branches warp inward where image reflects
Winscreen mangles trees in curved convex
Numbed halt of midday awaits later's laze
Birds suspended survey layered heat haze

Where for art thou crow's demand forlorn
Whips and ripples paisley foliage, air torn
Shuffle ruffles motley eucalyptus crews 
Flora's koala arms will afford her rescue

Kookaburra vantage, vast birds eye view 
Suspending foolish spectacle evitable 
Hot face hover over bonnet maneuvers 
Spur skyward climb, memory's removal 

Barren unfathomed clay crunched pebbles 
Beneath rolled sole boots, convey evitable 
Without pattern, frustrated thrusts slip 
Steel scorch sizzles sweat, elusive grip

Duco commodity, cancelled flat crucifix 
Urges her escapism to ocean rush fizz
Bug umpires whistles amass harrassment
Topaz top mushrooms burst effervescent 

Thighs printed by grille, his grunts ridiculous 
Flora's tenure lessens, his groans ubiquitous 
Deadening will release her, venture wiped 
Dusty windows blurred initial lustful hype

Drought of thought which welded them
Meeting of minds surely smoulder when
Straggly bush barely smudges rooves of blue
Stupid choices compiled in direction evitable 





         10th September 2020
         
         
         Quick examination of the role of choice 
          in fate.  ( play with evitable )
Categories: mangles, adventure, day, education, woman,
Form: Narrative

Premium Member Amen

Clinging
climbing the walls
cracks and burrows
dodging mangles and tangles
dead ends
no bends
fire and ice
and ice hurts more
once twice thrice
but hey!
dismount
assess
access
I'm a mess
creak crack
(yes my crack hurts too)
broken back
arms dragging sagging and blue
but hell I'm here!
and hail that too!
Categories: mangles, appreciation, life, pain,
Form: Free verse
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