Best Mouthing Poems
Where has she gone?
I can't seem to find her
though I try to play her part
imitating her laugh
coaxing my lips
into one of her smiles
mouthing her words
singing her songs
her dance is my dance
I leave nothing to chance
Practiced through and through
what else can I do?
I try
real hard
I try
Where has she gone?
I can't seem to find her
the laugh is laughable, unreal
the smile wobbly, no glee
the songs, off key...off key
the dance, lackluster mockery
I try
real hard
I try
Where has she gone?
You know...that young woman
the one not terrorized by her mirror
whose songs were solo praiseworthy
her hair, shampoo ad noteworthy
the life of the party girl
who swayed and who twirled
spinning their world
making them stare
unaware...of time
caught in the moment
Sublime
Where has she gone?
If you find her
I'm looking for her, you see...
she visits now and again
and then it's like....
it's again way back when
when youth and beauty
were on full duty
Where has she gone?
Why won't she stay?
Help me make her stay
because that woman of yesterday
has to help me be
the woman of today!
Eileen Manassian
I followed that cad Robyn Hood
and discovered he's up to no good
An expert at cheating
bad mouthing and bleating
His actions I've not understood
Oh how awful that folks feel so glum
Many now call him Robyn Hoodlum
He's a raunchy thief
who brought them to grief
He preyed on the blind, deaf, and dumb
Robyn has folks dancing like Muppets
He loves to treat them like puppets
He tugs at their strings
and then clips their wings
No wonder their confidence plummets
Heard the sheriff will arrest him soon
Robyn will be singing a new tune
While sitting in jail
He will cry and wail
In sorrow for acting like a goon
Sheriff found out Robyn is a girl
Her real name is Antoinette Pearl
Robyn Hoodlum wed
Now the sheriff is dead
and Robyn is engaged to an earl
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Fairytale plot by Jan Allison, Marti Sutherland, and Lin Lane
Angel?
Demon?
Faerie?
Witch?
Random labels
None apply.
We are all changelings
Pure and simple
Or complicated and unpure
Depending upon the mood, the moment, and our momentous events.
Divorce, death, cancer, car wrecks, they all take a toll on us.
Changing us completely in one second.
Giving us a perspective we never had before.
Showing us that our opinions are not the same now.
Sometimes switching to the opposite side in one second.
When we become the needy, we stop bad-mouthing the freeloaders.
When we realize how close we are to homeless, we maybe develop a little more empathy for them.
There are life-changing events happening every day.
We may go into some of them kicking and screaming,
But we still
Go into them
Changelings that we are.
Angel? Demon? Faerie? Crone? We’d best leave labels well and good alone.
2017 a New Memorial Day
My dear country is in disarray,
But its protectors protect it anyway,
Memorial Day finds them far afield,
Unable to laugh, unable to yield.
Lonely, disillusioned over news at home,
Cowardly violence, loud mouthing, moans,
Still they are stronger than these short term vents,
They sleep in sand, in rain, in tents,
Optimistic in their hearts what they are trying to heal,
God bless them today, past and future – that’s how I feel.
Misleading, minacious maze now thwarted,
eschews stealth as sandal-clad steps resound.
Determined and dour, destiny draws near;
completing this quest: forever renowned.
Stygian sky grants a much-welcomed boon:
conformable clouds cast curtain aside.
A radiant pearl suspended aloft,
reveals route to where foul fiend does reside.
Mouthing prayers to a personal angel;
supplication: salient and silent.
Head held high, eyes fixed firmly on heaven;
bless these dark deeds, bloody and violent.
Sharpened silvern sword raised proudly aloft;
unblemished blade mirrors midnight’s moon-light.
Utters an oath sworn at parents’ graveside;
tonight sees the zenith of a birthright.
Shrieks fill the air, inhuman and hungry;
hero’s hammering heart reaches its peak.
Fear is just fleeting, for foe has arrived;
savage beast attacks with claw and with beak.
Garden’s guardian inflicts ghastly gash;
‘tis nary a scratch for warrior’s might.
Unyielding weapon wielded with such flair
finally - fatally - settles the fight.
Chimera confronted, cowed and conquered;
tales of this victory regaled forthwith.
A marble mosaic marvel beckons
and once-true events pass straight into myth.
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February 2017
An apology for any students (or masters) of classical mythology. I’ve used a fair bit of poetic licence with the events leading to the death of the Chimera... but I was raised on a diet of Ray Harryhausen and this was my homage to his creature features!
-------------------------------------------------
Written for the “Chimera World” contest sponsored by Nayda Ivette Negron - Eighth Place. The following restrictions applied:
“1 original poem that uses the following words: mosaic, maze, moon, guardian, garden, angel, heaven, heart, midnight and clouds.”
I have just reached the end of the school year
giving my last lesson to the last group, as it were
Unlike before, not quite content with what has been done
on whom would I put the blame in the long run?!
Apart from the human factor, we have Covid-nineteen
and under my wings students at the age of a teen
To teach a youth, you need understanding.. patience and time
how would I make it, as students study part-time?!
Day on, day off.. that’s the school year for them so far
how to ensure the development of the learners’ repertoire?!
Hard I strived to hide the leak of confusion on my face
as it was puzzling to recognize my students with a mask on each face!
I spare you the trouble of an everyday struggle with every task
as my students and I are sweating under a suffocating mask!
Just envision me teaching the phonetic symbols and every problem sound
without accurately mouthing utterances and hearing a clear sound!
“Group 1 or 2?” Would you please your teacher remind?
that’s of paramount importance than any other task assigned!
A quick look at my notebook to check what is written down
so that I would be in the know after each two-week lockdown!
To God’s countless blessings I am grateful so much
though guilty with the feeling of not being able to do much
Still facing the dangers of the pandemic and its many a wave
and need not just get Covid-19 vaccine but also be brave
Possess a valiant heart, share Love and Light with a vibrant energy
have faith in God, in human nature beauty and in the “call of poetry”!
June 10th, 2021
Besma
I join my friend and fellow great poet, Poetic Flame, in his inspiring Poet's Call!
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/covid_toll_and_poets_call_1362448
11:45 pm
Spot light’s glare, shadows rocking
Wooden stage moving beneath my feet
Worn of past performances, steadied for the new breed
Bottles line the edge, dead soldiers, lipstick
Some full, some not, some spilled…nice
She’s there, always there, a comforting sight
Behind the bar, eyes that invite and a laugh that sings
Keeping watch, black printed T, wears it perfectly
Hot as all Hades, but cool as spring
Not sure if she owns this or it owns her…but she knows
Sticks count out the intro… 2,3,4
High on E, bent to a G, this is it, her favorite,
the one that gets her right there
She looks up at me with that smile, that smile
Loving how this feels in her heart
And she knows I know…
The way she moves her head from side to side
Eyes closed, lips smooth, shut tight, grooving
Playing an air guitar now,
She’s good…following my lead fret by fret
She knows how…yes she knows
Maybe I’m in love, no maybe…she is mine
My music is for her, it’s always been for her
And somehow, she’s the lyrics
I have always sung…and always will
I play D’addario, she plays heart strings…mine
Mouthing the words to the chorus,
She is my silent harmony tonight, pitch perfect
This music is us, this club her world, our world
I love this place, I love us and I love her
And she knows…
The 6th Street I am talking about is in Austin Texas. It is the center of the musical world in that city. You can find any kind of music you like being played live in any of a number of different clubs on this street
There are four parts to this series if you care to see them. Actually there are 5, but # 5 would probably be a bit much for this site.
Less than twenty-four hours after dashing off a poem
explaining why i wanted to die
found me experiencing physical duress vis a vis,
a bowel movement wherein waste unable to expel
from the anus of this guy
which bout with rectal obstruction
found me doubled over with lower abdominal distress
whereby comfort found me unable to lie
down nor sit upright (with back padded with pillows
against the cellar brick wall),
thus severe bloating a bonus well nigh
and managed to muster the means to bare
frigid arctic vortex aire to purchase
the Acme brand Metamucil, which akin to Drano doth ply
thru the excretory tract supposedly loosening the stools,
which optimism (product didst earn claim to fame) generated a sigh
if that expressed intent to cease LivingSocial would try
humph enjoining this lvii year old married male
to cede victory to the grim reaper, who would vie
as winner de jure to this common fellow invoking libretto
ohm resistant understudy waste not want not
allowing, enabling and providing relief,
without successful defecation
despite the oppressive urge to bolster this Uriah
heap of balled up and tuckered out five foot and ten inches of lovely bones
thence mouthing retraction of former thought to cease existing
though a non-bull lever in any power broker qua mankind
relief at long last provided posterior answered prayer
yet, this scrivener scrutinizes his recurring pain in the ass jagged torture
and asks a rhetorical one word question "WHY"?
On a sea of calm I long to be
you and a breeze to set me free
the water sparkling a soothing flow
the sun surrounding with a warming glow
your eyes shimmering in pools of peace
setting all my worries off to ease
my lips mouthing words of sensitivity
holding on to forever in this long lost captivity
on a sea of calm I long to be
you and a breeze to set me free
floating off into the great unknown
heartbeats drifting into all you've shown
I thought to when my mother took my hand.
We skipped the cobblestones and shopped for wishes,
(toys which I could ill-afford;
a Batman cape,
a red fire engine.)
The lanes were thick with merchants and the joy of life,
haggling, chattering like crazy seabirds,
loud, and mouthing their
wants and wares,
and then we wandered home exhausted.
I never lost my youthfulness, my
joy at seeing herons gloating, eagles floating
high on zephyr'd breezes free as spring;
hallowed times,
in Jesus' presence,
I measure now my moments as the hours shift by,
thirty years and blissful, regrets are slight and few,
I count my blessings,
feel content
that tribulation never came to trouble me.
A birthday cake is waiting for me,
candles flicker, frosting beckons, hope eternal;
my wish the same, for peace on earth,
to all men
greetings and goodwill!
I lie down in the close and holy quiet
while the village sleeps and slips toward a new adventure,
safe in His keeping,
perfect day
with promise of a bright tomorrow!
The mind eternal lies before us always.
Less pure in tone, we come to it drenched with life;
Fearless companion in our hour of days.
A purity not withstanding breadth of knife.
Away! Away! succubus death,
much less a breach than I.
How many not mislaid in breath,
In priceless toll, said duty to be paid.
No field of honored memories
they preach without belie.
Captured each, and each with closed fist shouting;
Me or not, Cold or hot, we stand between as choice;
all for desperate screams grown silent.
Pastoral in the presence, of one solitary voice,
Whose form of words so hesitantly mouthing.
Whence came we witness to the stream.
Whose eyes are these that hold our field a-view?
Memories whose touch a solid scream;
Form ignored and glory gored of few.
We are not the man.
No animal or simple word defined.
We pause, we pleasure, we perform,
With speck, and all our mind deform;
Our fingers will one day unfold.
Our torrid tortured tale be told.
Yours, mine, ours,
Drumroll spam-like dance,
Become the gist of one more fist
To smash against the sand.
Black sheet ceiling
Seeing black lace feeling
Falling, glistening limbs...
Love's darkness
Darkens my dreams.
Skin painted purple
Pleasure tearful
Teeth on neck to nibble
Scribble reckless
Romance in red.
White crescent nails
Trail over satin statue
Catch you writhing...
Rushing blood
To blushing rose.
Bitten lip crimson
Crushing bittersweet passion
Pushing, burning, mounting...
Mouthing silence
Silken in satisfaction.
Black sheet ceiling
Seeing black lace peeling,
Pleading... glistening limbs,
Longing begins,
Begging for you.
Para Todos~ for Everyone
This world works for all who work it.
Sitting and complaining, no, you will
not make it.
The Doers of this planet,oh, so hated!
The freeloaders walk the world unabated.
Victimhood, oh how we praise it!!!
True goodness~ oh how we hate it.
Envy and jealousy overcome us.
So soullost we hunt the good ones.
Searching for the people who blame things
on!
When it is we who all partake in bad
mouthing everyone.
You are blessed if this is not you,
You are indeed an angelic one,you!
God walks with you!
Panagiota Romios
4/29/2019
11:45pm PST
Donkey’s ogling artful masks
like drunks ogling addictive flasks –
You sure look fancy—Nancy!
Be submissive! Behaving neurotic
is now patriotic – loonies in charge
of the asylum;
Be safe! Give them your first
born...and second – they have an appetite
for helpless babies, and religions that
object –
teachers becoming malevolent
preachers, mouthing the party line –
they look to godless heavens for the
accepted sign your beloved offspring
are bullied into carrying –
Keep your eyes to their worshiped
skies – stars of tyranny and leprosy….
Aint nothing in life so weak and parasitic
As the smug self-delusional heckling critic
Sick with repressed envy and a manner most vile
He slithers to his seat to vent his acrid bile
Bereft of any talent to do anything himself
Can't wait to put the boot into everybody else
Can't act, can't dance, can't sing, can't play
Wouldn't have the nuts to get up on stage anyway
Sad man, sad man, silly little sad man.
Really rates himself as a man who knows his stuff
Mouthing well-used insults (too dumb for off-the-cuff)
When you're up there playing he'll inevitably try
To portray mock disdain if you ever catch his eye
So pay no mind to this impotent imbecile
Who follows his calling with unrelenting zeal
No wit, no style, no clout, no class
The turgid remains of a charisma bypass
Sad man, sad man, pity for the sad man.
Like a keyboard warrior, an internet troll
Loves it when his barbs hit an unsuspecting goal
And if you ever flinch, he's got you mind and soul
Thinks this master of the moment the ninja in control
Next time I'm performing I pray that he will show
I'll come on all guns blazing, and hope he has a go
This piteous mug who'll dismiss me with a sneer
Chuckling with his cronies at how bad I've been up here
On social media you can bet he'll go to town
Spewing forth his venom as he tries to put me down
No joy, no smile, no love, no praise
A pitiful indictment of his hollow darklit days.
Sad man, sad man, silly little sad man.