Best Mimed Poems
Grinding you in the coal black mortar of my expectations,
I know your substance is not one to powder under impact
And yet I work here, feverish, to prove my trepidations wrong
I grind you, harder against the walls, and you never powder,
You are shards of glass, getting smaller and smaller,
Cutting through the walls, straight into my skin
I cry out in a thousand minuscule pains,
As you enter mercilessly into my bare flesh
Tinkles flair as the wind blows upon the incisions
I sparkle in the night of our plight,
Terrorized by the horrors I have constructed,
Toying with you… you…the finesse tool to my agonies
You gained control of me like a mimed puppet master,
The binds I had tightened upon you asphyxiating my sanctuaries,
Tied along you, and twined around me
Silent, smiling, seething…
You begged me to scream
Your glass shards icing into my pupils, through my brain,
And out into the recesses of all my verbalized fears
I shove the remaining shards into my fleeting sight,
A hawk screeching, being stabbed in the eyes by its own feathers
Expelling blood and tears …matter and might,
All I wanted to do was finally see you…
To take in the scent of my grounded version of you
So long though had I whiffed in the potent poison you always were,
Too long, as it no longer has the same effect my nostrils numb for…
Induced Interludes
Twilight disrobes a soundless star
It claims some gentler theme from me
Caught lingering in a unified bestilled embrace
Beneath a unique spotlight of its gleaming afterglow
gently now, gently
thus footprints bare none
alight butterfly rest on a finger
spilled words occasions the breeze
the gist of me shadows alongside jaguars
Morning star glint after dawns flow
Challenge arranges yet another measure
An opportune solemn hymn ingratiates breaths
Stages of a day follow blissfully edge to edge quietly
gently now, gently
a better course grace me
fingertip traces a fashioned grin
a made verse set rhythmically whispers
a softly caressed infant coos towards silence
Sunsets a mimed score entertains
Review disciplined superbly portrayed
Persuades descending rays an eyeful adieu
Nightwings greet dusk, whorls up into absence
gently now, gently
ebb star pivots another
penitent pose cradles prayers
pointed at fingers in lieu of sheeps
eyes seals behind dreams, genteel cast...
FOR MARY MAGDALENE
Between necessity and freedom I was crucified
Perceiving Himself endlessly on the cross
Yet aware, as an onlooker, petrified
My vision that never was, would be His loss.
I mimed too, as they hammered in the nails
Once more assuaging myself in His deep tears
Once more my heart rallying where my speech fails
To give His lips the vinegar it fears.
Sun eclipsed, I dallied with the vision of day,
A multi-chromed banner the old enemy was twisting,
Till I could no longer read in stone and clay,
My flower-head lopped, topped to the moment’s listing -
I shone for Him like a speck in the glory of the sunrise
Waiting for twilight, the beauty of the stars’ surprise.
by Rosemarie Rowley
from IN MEMORY OF HER, Dublin 2008
Hands tick in motion but I hear naught
of the onslaught of killing time depicted.
Minutes run past me in tarred darkness
as the visions in my brain are obscured.
Clocks eat away moments of my life.
I admit I'm nearly frightened to death
of those mimed hands whose strokes
stab me with each gasp of breath I take.
Round and around, silent warning given
in gross opposition to the beastly roar,
aped by masses of such foolish people,
oblivious that my plight is also their own.
Reticence gives no relief to assault. I see
my fate's demise, and frightened I shall be
until death's full tariff has set my soul free.
Rhythmic tickings makes no difference to me.
Silence staggers my soul to substantiality.
Blinded by fear of my imminent necrosis,
I cannot traverse those two roving needles,
hellbent on stinging me to my neon grave!
Passage of time is but a travesty of life
in which man has no occasion to amend.
In the end, death haunts us all in silent
whispers; echoes of cruel scheming hands.
==========================
17th of April, 2016
How mysteriously mythical
And mystical you look
Magnificently minute
Maritime majestic migrants
More than marginally manic
Mesmerizing meanderers
Masterpieces
Peacefully going about
Your business
Magical make-believe
Monarchs of the sea
Upright and elegant
In your mannerly march
Moonstruck prone to
Misfortunes and misadventures
Oft mostly monologuing
In monotonous monotony
Mediocrely misconstruing
Mischievous mongrels
And misconceiving misplayed
Merciless minutiae
But merry merciful
Momentous messengers of love
Marketable motive and
Mission to mirthfully mate
You mavericks matched
To mettlesome mistresses
Masqueraded maroon
From menacing mercenaries
Marvelously masterful
Is your mimed courtship dance
Mellifluous entwining
Matrimonial love embraces
Mounting and moving
Mimicking moody miscreance
Swaying to measureless
Maudlin melancholic melodies
Monopolizing methodical
Momentum and motion
A meticulously modulated
Mellow match of merging
A most memorable metaphysical
Millennium melodrama
AP: 1st place 2022, Honorable Mention 2022, Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on April 16, 2018 for contest SEAHORSES sponsored by JULIA WARD - RANKED 5TH
Beautiful Siren from a distant sea
Doctor Donovan wrote of their Mastery
Aquatic, seduction enchants me…
Merman disguised the Light in his eyes
Sang the songs that a heart finds nice
Extending a hand he unraveled his web
And my sister was there after her death
“Wana ride?” was the question he mimed
And I, tempted by his suggestive rhyme
Never hesitated, to enter his mind.
Past the coffee stained collar, I climbed.
Tracing races and faces in the wind
One thousand and One nights I’d spend
Immortal and naked on the ocean
Towers of power in the robes of men
Lighting the coast to see sailors home
Nixie was the name my mother mentioned
And Trixie was the dame
...who bore little attention
The Merrow of the story, is in me.
.... The Scotch is vertical, and I’m a She.Alba….
Merlin, can you see the sight in my eYes?
Form:
Mama's Golden Pond Cried
Mama loved to chew
off the Golden Pond
bone
chew the fat
of their autumn leaves,
dressed in splendor,
a scenic lake and cabin,
her pseudo stage,
of her new found barbies,
smiling at her
smile they did
so minted the american dream,
their lives golden.
These.
These
pocketed keepsakes she kept
next to the chip
on her shoulder.
Yet her music plays
ill forgotten lore and simile
of her family and children,
scruffy unkempt dogs
she never proud,
she drummed over and over,
her catch phrase.
We watched the movie
long ago,
in her element,
in her tempo,
bated breath,
tears falling
and detached.
Yet her music plays
so content
and spawning such a fondness
in her heart,
of them rowing a boat,
aging, golden.
Yet her music plays
sadly
in her heart
of emptiness
at home
dying,
lifeless grey eyes.
Yet, so steely
her song
snow blind of her son
sitting next to her
in the darkening theater,
her wintry chill,
so indigenous,
taking life hostage.
Just my child
her teeth
chattering
to piano keys
playing,
playing in her concerto
dancing on golden pond...
such a waste her lips mimed.
Her keys.
And mine sink low.
... Just my child
she sat akimbo,
in silhouette,
tears I imagine,
and her voice
... and her voice
once icy then
now a scar,
a ghost,
... scruffy come here.
connie pachecho
6/30/17
Guns fell silent, nervous heads appeared,
one by one from the trenches climbed,
for a short while no-one feared,
some spoke while others mimed.
They kicked a football,
hugged fellow man.
Peace to all.
We can
stop
In memory of the Christmas truce in 1914, when men from both sides,
for a brief period, forgot their differences. For contest 'It's Christmas time again', sponsor Broken Wings
November 26th, 2017
Nocturnal go betweens as I wish wonder why and
pine and ponder the thrill of you, in-sensed
enraged plight unforgiving unkind-blistered
human frality relentless fingers grip and squeeze
the terrified emotion from a craving heart strong
with beaded bridled ********; unsustained in a
pisstrom of anxious delight paradise lost with a fabled man
truth sick honesty no trip to bountiful bliss
love lost passion dismissed and the threat of
a dismantled ego leanloins in jerked off ruins. No
feelings everfelt inherent in the now metaphor of existent
fervor of that which I place myself in the present
tense of future fear yearnings. My skull, cosmic of crippled
cell thoughts---transient trenchings. Forbid my manual range
inept incomplete incoporeal disavowed--I wishI mayIwishImight
have the wish I-------------------Eternity Heights
upscaled past reason's dictates a surrender gorge.
regardless of quicksand times and blows dealt
regardless of "life goes on"--stop-leave-don't outcomes
regardless of mirror mimed politicolove entgrails whom shout "NO"
from their lovelung tops of false de-saintitty thesis. On&on&on
from charm to harm all in drop C alphabet olleyolleyinfree stew.
Slowly I lose a little more cranial fragment appetitie at yesterday's
testicular terminal power love lost lunch.
Another naked being for the mating composite heap. Next!
And now I can speak
With words unwritten
Because you listened
Word by word
Yesterday I spoke
With written words
Because you watched
Me Step by step
And I mimed to me
If I should or not
Swear my spirit
But how by now
Tomorrow when I storm
My love from the struts
Let loose your words
Spoken or written
Mingle our breaths
And single our tongues
Come to me and rest
Side by side
Murmur no things
or strings of sounds...
Could not care less
more-ish whispers
were Wicked
Whips of Words-
Weighted.
Tongue- lashing sharp
fork- tine Torture.
Cat-0-nine-one-one-tales...
Thirty-nine...
Forty-less-one
thrashing...
thrashing...
Thrashing...!
P
l
u
m
b
l
i
Cut, then
Spliced
r
a
m
aught - 0 - matic -ally
u
t
t
e
s-t-r-e-t-c-h-e-d and s-t-r-u-n-g out
taut ~O~ill~O~gee~call
sayings S-P-L-A-Y-E-D out.
Taught NO one
any thing
new
Knew hear-say-
Say! Did you hear THAT???
(Did YOU know...?)
? :-0 ? :-o ? :-0 ?
Oh Oh...
Tongues plaited and tied
Gutless intentions
Implied
Allied...
Bound between mongers
pitted
unpitying
Pitbulls against distraught,
double-bind on-slaughter
pale-faced pugilism
mimics
Mummery and mimed thoughts
~acted~out~
played O-U-T
OUCH!
Bought into
Hearts wrung out
bloodless
Bloody hands wringing
in Delight-
Delighted!
de-lighted...
Delight-Full?
Murmur nothing
need less>>>>>>
Need less to say
" it" @ All.
Hot of the press,
hot air blows
seeds of doubts
s-OW-n n-OW!
Profuse Grrrrr- OW-th
Hot-head heed-less
not Grrrrr- OW-n up.
Groans are unmouthed
sounds
sown shut :-
No more hurt
Feelings
Hidden
Humiliation's humus
Not humorous.
Hideous "justice"
bids
Blurts be bought
at a price-
Caught out
Pulled-up-Pule
short-circuits
short-changed
~my~O~my
~chained~
~thrashing~it~out.
thrashed...thrashed....Thrashed!
within an inch
~~ ~~~'~ ~~~~...
nihil -is-tic
parsitic
Tick-Tacky-Town
Game of noughts.
Game of cross thoughts..x-O
Game's off-
Colour two- tone
Voice
Not "giving lip"-
Zipped~~~
:-O gains nil
By Mouth.
:- naught -:
nada
null
X
void
O
14-07-2017~Aqua Marine.
Last Laugh
© Ben Burton
Petrified slaves
Worshiping stars
Nobles and knaves
Uncaged in the dark
Gallantly fought
Gamely defended
Quietly wrought
Uproaringly rendered
Hearken to clues
Enriddled in rhyme
Ladled from pews
Instinctively mimed
Fault the accursed
Who spun the foul thread
When empty the purse
Faith's soothsayers fled
Displaying naught
But vanities vows
Savoring thoughts
Of eternal nows
Proclaim not the name
Blaspheming of God
Nothing has changed
Save the fields that are trod
Henceforth to spill
An acre of seed
Girding a will
That nothing impedes
For silence or din
Within lion's lair
No tool born of tin
Could stave life's despair
Words to the wise
The signs yet profess
The worst of all times
Is as good as it gets
Toast to the sun
The one that is true
Birthing the Nun
And dictator, too
Beliefs in disguise
Lies polished with skill
The innocents' eyes
Embrace daffodils
A senseless refrain
To sort wheat from chaff
While omniscient brain
Has the last laugh
Vying to rock
The cradle to sleep
While some in his flock
Keep shearing the sheep
From fishes with lungs
In steady degree
Bi-pedals have sprung
The last tragedy
Dedicated to Jazmine Russell
Another
angel has affallen
Before
she, stands she.
Corrupt,
she was not,
Demanding,
she was not,
Everlasting
beauty, she was.
Fell
for her, i did as if my shoes were untied
God
i thanked for this miracle
Her
Love & light was saving me from Hell and darkness
I
never knew it was possible
Jordan,
me and undeserving person,
Knitted
by anger and passion and
Loved
by none but a few.
Mimicked,
mocked, and mimed and never truely understood
Now
I am strong, but
Only
because of her
Pain
no longer living or speaking to me and is only not
Quiet
When she is pained.
Remains
of the devil no longer shows or exists
Since
she has come
Things
have been easier and more
Understandable.
Things for me are no longer in
Vain
cause i am strong now, and as for
Weaknesses
i no longer have any.
Xyloohones
now have more of a tune and
Yelling
has no effect. And
Z
makes Jazmine a whole new name
the best name
and my love's name
Under the tree in Africa, we sap strength
from the songs of the sparrows before sunlight.
as we walk to the farm, the
morning breeze brush our
body from the billowing branches.
We pick up our hoes and cutlasses
and keep our basket and calabash,
the big Agbadas of the elders and our little
catapult hang on the bole as we plough and plant.
Under the tree in Africa we relish
the radiance of reality as we rest
after the rigor of raising ridges.
we break the dried branches to make fire
to roast the harvested maize;
we stroll with the spirits as we slumber,
listening to the whispers of the wind
and wake up to feast on the roasted maize
with some cold water from the serene stream.
Under the tree in Africa we share
the shield of shadows,
shying away from the sun
as we walk back to the village.
We use our traps to tame birds;
making some meat available mama's,
meal by moonlight, throwing stones at some
ripe fruits we have a feel of freshness
and get some fruit for friends and family,
we get locked in luck as we get lots of grains
and goodies that gives us passion and pride.
At twilight, under the tree is a place to be in Africa,
the elders drink from the cup of culture.
Passing the calabash with love; there is enough Palm
wine and bush meat to go round,
quarrels are settled, feuds are finalized as the echoes
of the evening resounds.
The day's delight are shared, friendships are
found and formed as fresh fragrance flows.
The children chant with vibrating voices, moral
melodies are mimed with clapping of hands under
the tree in Africa.
Graceful games and spirited sports go on as
communal creeds cruise in their conscience.
The elders feed their seeds with the water of wisdom
as they share folktales and facts,the children are charged to
be charming as they listen to the tales by moonlight..
In Africa the women sings with virtuous voices
as they make mats, beads, basket and raffia
under the tree.
nursing mothers keep their sucklings on the mat
for the cool breeze to caress their soft skin,
at twilight, women roll out local pots, mortal and pestle,
to prepare pounded yam and melon soup for their household,
as the food-is-ready alarm sounds, folks and friends
gather to dine and wine as the moon peeps through
the leaves under the tree in Africa.
Once upon a time, my life was a fairytale.
I didn’t see anything wrong with it.
Then I opened my eyes.
And saw all the previously hidden ****.
Once upon a time, a was a happy, young child.
I was innocent, and gullible as well.
Then I grew two feet, two years.
I realized I was living in hell.
Once upon a time, I lived where Barbies where the “thing.”
I loved them and Bratz dollz and even more.
Now I live where people call others,
People on the internet they don’t even know, whores.
Once upon a time, I lived in a happy place.
Everyone was friends, we all got along.
Now I notice, that it was an act.
That I was totally wrong.
Once upon a time, In a land far far away,
I was happy, I was free. I was a great friend.
Not any more I say,
Whatever is good or bad, eventually comes to an end.
But that was all, once upon a time.
What about now?
Do I need to rhyme,
Or do I need to shout?
Yes, that was all, once upon a time.
Where I was pure, and loved.
Now it’s all mimed.
I’m a dirty, and shoved.
Of course, that was all, once upon a time.
It couldn’t be now. NO, it had to be hell.
We will be judged, all in due time,
Right now I just want to yell.
Because.
Once upon a time, I got myself dressed.
In my girly pretty clothes, that I showed off.
My hair shiny, my skin soft.
Now, that I’m older, I’m so depressed.
And in that time, where I got dressed,
I was giggling, and blessed/ But now that I’m older.
I am stressed.
And even though I’m stressed, I’ve gotten bolder.
Oh, once upon a time, you were like that too.
Had an identical life, everyone loved you.
Let me tell you something my friend.
All what’s good, must come to an end.
Form: