Best Manoeuvred Poems
Am I pretty enough?
A question oft asked by adorable little girls,
But also a question lingering
At the back of every teenagers mind.
A question that haunted Me,
Every second of my teenage life.
Am I pretty enough?
I soon stopped asking myself.
'Cuz I always assumed the answer
Would be in the negative.
I looked unto others for the
Appreciation I'd denied for myself.
Am I pretty enough?
I soon stopped wanting to know.
Manoeuvred around every mirror,
To avoid having to answer.
The weighing scales oppressed me, and
Food- such a loyal friend- remained a friend no more.
I am pretty enough,
I finally told myself.
Stopped looking unto others,
And looked deep within.
Stopped obsessing with the scales,
And embraced me for who I am...
The sky and sea intermingled as a mist evolved.
Soon a moon appeared surrounded by tiny stars.
From the beach, a whisper of awe arose, all wondered
Onlooking the misty phenomenon of a beauty rarely seen.
Night fell and some bathers rested on the sandy beach.
Could the sky kiss the sea, most wondered musing a lot.
It was a sensation of wonder and mystifying occurrence
Yet finally most lay down into a deep sleep and dreamt.
A summerlike breeze swirled around them prodding dreams.
Most wondered what could one find beyond the horizon.
Many felt that beyond was a void, others dreamt of sunken ships.
But many dreamt of fantastic beings that hovered around.
Soon the sun rose from faraway. Ships sailed placidly
And on the horizon, a cruise ship manoeuvred to far off lands.
Deceit of sun when rays are still but porous;
unwelcome thief, afford my dream more seconds.
Some dappled shadows flit through mystic keyhole;
alight upon pellucid remnant image.
I stifle yawn as thoughts embrace the vision.
My ever-restless spirit merits story
which doesn’t evanesce at first obstacle
encountered when issues foisted upon me.
Embarked on travels, trinkets of high finesse
that crossed the boundaries of reality.
The past firmly imbedded in the future,
illuminating a path predictable and
imbued with fantasy and peccant grandeur.
Adroitly I manoeuvred through initial
self-doubt that plagued a multitude of people.
Circumlocutory whim of eidolon
expertly gathered evidence to support
demand that’s straddling realms, but I will resist.
I read the missive through and then carefully
enfold my dreams in cocoon, preserving them.
Unpleasant facts I spat out like an obol
that’s placed under tongue of recently deceased.
The critics can wait with Charon for day of
reckoning – future set aside for visions.
My dreams swim at the edge of river’s conscience.
Expectations made dreams luminesce brightly,
but withered in morning sun’s naïve splendour.
Like sands in the hourglass, the grains of wisdom
filtered through consciousness and needled thinking.
I set aside the search for epiphany.
Chronicles of a long Distant Race
I arrive amidst all the chatter and confusion
that seems to haunt all pre-race activities,
friend greeting friend,
club member greets fellow member,
New shoes, shorts and shirts being shown emulously.
Profusions of Vaseline used in all those little places,
stretches of an overweening nature giving one an
overawed feeling of inferiority,
warm up laps being produced at a frightening pace
conveying to this novice the very thoughts they are suppose to!
Tannoy system then bursts into action signifying the
end of the disorganized bustle, thus signaling the creation
of the organized hustle.
“Favourites to the front, others to the rear,”
Mr. Starter then proceeds to give a small sermon to all,
on sportsmanship.
The pistol then snarls, the jostle begins, one thousand souls
are manoeuvred on their fervid way, each striving violently
to become at peace with one's inner self.
Still jovial the chatter remains at fever pitch,
only time will subside its fervour.
I, trying to focus in my mind any subject at will, if only to
ease the pain of this competitive array.
Step by step the miles begin to abate, this, only reminding the
body of what already has been achieved,
leaving one searching the brain for even more constructive
reasoning for progression.
Then through eyes glazed by abundance of moisture I see the
eternal finishing line,
with throngs of folk waiting proudly to caress to share to
question,
I finish amid scenes of wild excitement breaking out all
around me,
although I have an inner satisfaction of achievement I still feel
like a stranger here, in this a carnival atmosphere,
for a moment I nearly forget,
that no one is here to share, my glory my burden,
that I am what I am.
The loner!
© Harry J Horsman 2012
They thought i was disabled by choice, not by veracious right,
They thought, ‘cos i objected to medicine’s lady,
But my parents were both a malady,
To medicine’s elegance and height.
My parents were faith healers, into prayer,
For coughs, colds and constipation,
And so I did object to faith consummation,
Rather than medicine’s beautiful lair.
I was desperate to become independent by a male OT,
But I hid my yearning, covered by my face,
My sociology became bad and with a poisoned lace,
Until I had to escape the worlds of religion and disability.
My blue bird lifted upon my sight,
And then i confounded the solid door,
Manoeuvred into the computing floor,
In the stillness of the night.
A very small thought passed my mind,
Right or wrong? There’s morality in existence,
But i did just continue on without much persistence,
The keyguard from the cupboard to find.
After half an hour or so, there it was,
My name on top of the high score board,
RIM, never to be belittled or to have water poured,
On this gamer of much dexterity, cause.
So i was functional, that would just say everything,
But i knew and felt I’d turned the tide against me,
Hot with sweat, i did not have nature on my side umbilically,
And the law would also condemn my aiming.
However, i did think i could still complain legally,
Against no named person for living and loving,
And because i was also disabled and aggravated, in the ring,
I thought I’d not be charged necessarily.
Life under threat, but there are boats,
Sea water may not be right for an isolated disabled child,
And paddles can avenge the tide to forward gild,
That child from the darkness of no votes.
Nature comes back and people burn,
To help you up your ladder of reason,
And sea water is by no means treason,
So i did change from that day on to upturn.
SANTA'S SURPRISE
Santa Claus stripped off his beard and red suit
And left the show in the officers’ mess
Pulling the last tiny pieces of cotton wool from his stubbled chin
As he ran to his position
At the end of the starboard bow catapult of the Carl Vinson
Eighty feet above the stormy grey Arabian Sea
He watched as far off down the flight deck
The final touches manoeuvred the F22 into the cradle
Its ordnance today a hundred kilogram fragmentation device
For a rebel bunker in Afghanistan an hour’s flying time away
A surprise delivery for them;
The salt wind whipped the last cotton from his face.
Then his thumb pressed the green all-clear button
Engine screamed to maximum and the catapult released
The flying load into the grey sky. Another successful delivery.
He checked his area of the mechanism after the aircraft blurred past
And hurried back inside to finish his Christmas dinner
Merry Christmas Santa, they all yelled as he came in again.
Slowly, perceptively, she melted closer to him. Her movements mesmerized, teased. He was helpless in her power. Never before had he been so entrapped by such an overwhelming presence. Their silent liaison twisted and turned as each poignant moment unfolded with emotional expectancy and lulled with mock withdrawal. They quivered like a bow string as the charged atmosphere between them crackled with heightening tension.
She held his eyes with a probing gaze, searching for any sign that might alter the course of his destiny that she had so skilfully manoeuvred him into.
Transfixed before her, he was hypnotised by her dominant spell that had delivered him into her clutches and he knew it and she knew it. His pulse raced as he felt her hot breath on his cheeks in the darkened room. Closer still she came.
Then... She Pounced!
The silence was broken with a howling attack
Determined to have him she clawed at his back
His shrieks rent the air as he scampered in fright
Out of the doorway and into the night
Her wild eyes narrowed to glare down the path
“How dare he escape me and incur my wrath”
But he was long gone now, his flight took him far
Across the neat lawn and away in his Car
I listened
The sound of the gushing waters on the rocks
Soft sounds soothing to this troubled heart
Soothing and mending
I listened
My soul is yet at peace longing for more
Why is it so demanding so wearing?
Why is it so exhausting? Heavily I breathe seeking to catch a breath
Why so many questions? Is it worth my time………my peace
The peace so freely given……….
I listened
The soothing sound is becoming louder as I search these empty walls
Isolation had brought no joy but sorrow
Slowly I manoeuvred towards the sound………followed the small streak of light
Sunlight stroking this lifeless skin of mine almost scotching but yet warm………
Slowly I walk towards the light…….toward the sound
I listened
There is an open window……….the sound is coming from the outside…it is now more audible
These walls have become a safe abode for me………should I go outside……out where the music plays? Out where the sun shines?
I look for a way out and cannot find it………..panic! as I seek my way out my mood soon quickly changing into anxiety…….
Gently……..swiftly the sound of the water calms me down and I follow the sound yet again to find my way to a door……….there is a way out……..
I listened
First my feet on this foreign ground……….My feet bare on the meadow
It is a new feeling…..barefoot I gently walk towards the sound of these gushing waters
The sound drawing………mending…….it is a beautiful sound……music to my ears
Healing to my soul……….Healing to my heart
The warmth of the sun on my skin………soft sound of the birds chirping from the trees up high……..
The wind softly brushing my soft skin……..I am drawn to the sound of gushing waters
I listened
The magic of the puppeteer’s hands, brings life through the strings
The mass of wooden limbs on the floor, unrecognisable as things
They all applauded as they watched the master puppeteer at work
He made his puppets dance, his duty he did not shirk.
Then the day arrived, they all became bored with dancing marionettes
The stage was empty, the puppeteer sad, the stage was up ‘For Let’
He vowed that he would win them back, and he reset his new stage
With magic in his masterful fingers, people returned of every age.
They clapped and begged, they shouted, they wanted to see more
Never had such a sight been seen, the puppets danced across the floor
He said my puppets I will dance, but one thing I ask of you
There will come a day a question I ask, I wonder what you will do.
They all cheered willing to pay the price the puppeteer called for
His dolls, the wooden limbs, rose and danced across the floor
Wooden limbs that came to life, all connected by some slight strings
The puppeteer manoeuvred them, they became as living things.
The crowd roared and asked for more they had never seen the like
He said now for the question I ask, you may answer as you like.
To keep the puppets dancing there is one thing I will ask from you
Will you always watch the puppets dance? If so, I will see they do.
All agreed to pay the price to watch the magic puppets dance
He asked the question they all affirmed, quite willing to take a chance
Now you are mine, the stage is set, the curtains will open, all looks well
It’s time for you to follow me, then he pulled open the curtains to hell.
The audience became the puppets as he toured the wider world
Come see the magic dancers he cried, and watch the marionettes twirl
Never had there been such a show, the puppets they looked so real.
Until the audience started to stray, and anger the puppeteer did feel.
Once more he promised them magical dancing, even through hoops and rings
He tweaked and pulled, the puppets danced, as though there were no strings
But the strings were hid as long as they danced, and did what the puppeteer bid.
So read the print before you sign, never let the magical puppeteer you kid.
© 7/01/2013 ~GG~
The Inspiration for this poem came From Harry J Horsman's "Entrapment"
Wrath whirled in the air, and satan manoeuvred around.
Darkness enclosing around, with memories of the past jeering at me.
Pain blistering my heart breaking my being, shattering me
Their laughter ringing in my ears.
Cold wind pricking my skin and loneliness filling my life for years.
My life becoming a curse for me.
Time aviated and with a sudden lurch, so did my life
Shattered pieces of my heart hitching as love filled me
Light ablazed in this darkness of mine
Making my soul stalwart, like it was never effete
Hope repleted my life like i was never bereaved.
To think, this life would become a paradise for me!
Like an astral, she flared into my aphotic sky,
Filling my empty life with glee.
What a salvage she was; which no one else could ever be.
A Flicker of hope, invaded in this soul of mine
Florets of love grew in my arid heart.
She infused life in my deceased soul and
Traded my silence with an euphonic rhythm of delight.
She may not be my blood, but, heavens forbid, she is the other half of mine.
I am not deserted, neither is she
No matter how isolated we are
We shall still remain the two wings of a queen bee.
My algid heart beats for the ardor of her arms
And my soul is fated to burn at her laughter
For This is what she is-
A miracle in my damned life.
The aeroplane lay upside down
At the bottom of the lake quite profound
How it came to be here
Was a story that was not clear
There were no markings that would last
And it appeared the water landing was not very fast
Its door was blown off the side
And it sparked my interest of what was inside
There was a sealed box bobbing around
So I manoeuvred it without a sound
And it floated out and up to the water’s surface
I pushed it over to the landing place
The box itself was so very light
I was able to put it in the van and close it tight
And I pondered what to do next
Thinking what was inside made me so perplexed
I drove it home and locked the garage door
Sipping a scotch I thought some more
Picking up my pry bar
And with one push it opened up with a jar
It wasn’t peculiar in its shape
With a video screen to contemplate
And when I touched it came to be switched on
With scenes of an alien world to wonder upon
But the biggest surprise was the fade to one
Back to a being whose speech had just begun
The universal translator said to me
“Contact made we are locked in, we will come and see.”
© Paul Warren Poetry
High summer at the Regiment,
Admin Inspection coming around
So they placed a little saluting base
At the edge of the Parade Ground.
A coco matting covered floor
On a stout square wooden base
Which the fatigue party
Manoeuvred carefully into place.
Now I may have worn a uniform
And been a soldier by name
But i preferred to play
Very unmilitary games.
So, every night I visited
That special little place
And ceremoniously and seriously
Passed water on the saluting base.
How I loved the thought
That the building smell
Would make of that area
A pungently urine smelling hell.
Alas, all good things
Must come to their end
Because sadly I was discovered
By an equally discontented friend.
And before I knew it
Every single night
Folk were treated
To the unedifying sight
Of an ever growing band
In the process of urination
On that little coco matted
Official saluting base station.
Discretion being the thing
And the damage being done
We ceased operation and left
Further action to that of the sun.
Having sadly been posted for
Unspecified but suspected crime
I was not present there
Come Admin Inspection time
So I never did find out
If it all went well
And the Inspecting Officer suffered
My planned olfactory dose of Hell
So many many years later
In odd moments of leisure
I like to think it did, and that
Gives me such intense pleasure.
Spill the tea, tipped up spout, stirred
Friction mixes fiction into fructose
Whispers pull expectant ears close
Muffled message can barely be heard
Listen where truth and lies intertwine
Hot off the press, a hopscotch
Pebble thrown, trending watch
Manoeuvred over as squares 3- 6- 9
Folded inside last week’s newspaper
Transfer blur, ink bleed injury
Tear away band-aid gingerly
Atrocities reduced to peculiar caper
Shrine to memory melts fact, flimsy
Shadows spread black plague
Smokey mirror, images vague
Cloak and dagger funhouse whimsy
Pressed for truth, tea bags shrivel
Leaking last drips of drunk dribble
21st November 2024
Written for Contest:
How the Echo Filters Reality
Sponsor: Di11y Da11y
The old ice house is where it happened
The old ice house where cold still grows
We ventured down the hidden old footpath
By the stream where now only the ducks go
A dare to see past the old iron fence
A dare to go over the ivy strewn wall
To creep through the overgrowth
In the sunken garden where wild flowers grow
'Tis there where we witnessed something strange
An eerie shadow cast over the stone
Behind us fast movement but nothing seen
Though we knew something was watching us go
We stopped and looked at each-other
We knew something now was wrong
Had we ventured too deep past the folly
Had we stepped where no one should go
Now movement happened around us
With sounds unholy and low
Shadows danced through the bracken that shouldn't be
Without some kind of form
As we looked up-ahead we could see
The old ice house entrance; like a hole in the wall
We wanted to go further but we couldn't you see
Because as we looked we saw a dark shadow grow
Then some noise of a squawk type of moaning
Then a figure out of the shadow was born
It looked at us and appeared to stand staring
We both thought it's time we should go
I have never moved so fast with such dexterity
Like a commando I manoeuvred over the wall
Like a jungle cat through the trees
Until I got back onto the old road
I turned to see where you were
I heard movement, some weird sounds, then there was nothing and none
I know this sounds so weird but please you must see
Please Mr policeman I can't tell you where he'd be or where he has gone
But please Mr policeman don't try to see what we did see
Please, please, please don't go over that wall.
A voyage of dark mists swoops and swirl
In and around my once strong body
The strength breakers disable a part of me brick by brick
Laughing at me as I struggle to rebuild
In my growing confusion
The whispers inside
Causing conflict and mistrust
Creating enemies from innocent voices
This dark devil grows inside
Leaving my conscience
A long lonely road behind
Now feeling controlled and manoeuvred
By this power hungry curse
Is it me that it wants destroyed?
Or just chaos and destruction
Of all that is around me
Where I am the culprit controlled
By this misty being from a hell unknown