Best Poppet Poems
Amidst the amazing aroma of the angelic sticks
Cheering along the chants of charismatic priests
Promising on the petals of pearly purity
You said, "I LOVE YOU"
During the dreadful dreams of dying waves
Glancing through the glass of dry gloomy grass
Lifting me up into the light of lively land
You said "I LOVE YOU"
Fondling my feathery feet with your fancy fingers
Twisting your tangy thumb into my twirled curls
Scrawling your signature on my splendid smile
You said "I LOVE YOU"
Searching for the sensibility behind the madness of your words
Enjoying the ecstasy of our bond enriched with folly fights
Roistering the roller coaster ride at the royal stage of your vivacity
I solemnly stoop before your solicitude to say,
I LIVE FOR YOU.
Prick up your ears my darling
Open wide your eyes my poppet
Unlock the hatch of your heart my swain
Look into my eyes,
Slide deep into my nerves,
Feel the warmth of my blood
You will realise that
I AM ALL YOURS.
Dear parents, don't you agree
that you all quite regularly see
Your tiny pranksters shouting loud -
Higher and shriller than they are allowed?
So here's the solution to end all your worries -
When your naughty little poppet stealthily scurries
To make blood-curdling, spine-tingling, uproarious noises,
Just scare them to silence with their headmasters' voices!
Tis midnight, no star shining,
My sorrow is nearly burning
All my soul, within me, stirring,
In my heart all hopes are dying.
As I watch you, dead you're lying,
There upon the velvet poppet,
Like a cursed, lethal prophet,
“Oh, my love! “, my poor heart crying.
But the echo still replying,
In this gloomy, hated tower,
In this late nocturnal hour,
Still you’re lying, not replying.
It is now no more worth trying,
Begging, weeping, pleaing, kneeling,
I have lost my happy feelings,
Only lying, not replying.
You look like an angel sleeping,
Filling my black heart with sadness,
Making me a slave of madness,
Angel sleeping, secret keeping.
Now beside you I am lying,
On a velvet, so smooth, poppet,
Smiling at that cursed prophet,
Happy, cheary, almost dying.
Our bodies the spell is binding,
And there is no more life in love.
You are so far, yet I can touch your heart
I can see your mind without you talking,
What happened to us? We used to be a brick!
Now we are just apart like a coca-cola glass bottle's,
Sitting side by side facing opposite directions.
I miss those days that we talk & talk about us non-stop,
And its funny how we wouldn't stop,
Your eyes are as clear as crystal,
Your smile is warm & charming,
Your hands are soft yet strong,
We send each other love notes here & there,
Pretend in front of others we are just friends,
I miss those days we had,
What happened to us?
No matter what you will do memories won't fade away,
They are there like a soar of thumb in your face,
No matter how much you wash your face,
Yet the images in your vision play like a poppet show in your mind,
Now my mind is talking on its own,
Thinking about all of our memories good & bad,
Its ahead of my hand writing,
It goes on and on talking...
The game you think glamorous and wonderful
It is not really, it is dangerous.
Watch these poppets bit carefully
Their dance is quite similar.
Note their reins.
Do you want to know? Why?
Who is behind the scene?
I am afraid,
What will happen to you if you don’t like to be a poppet?
He is clever and you are a consumer for him
And he knows only how to make profit.
Inviting you into my heart was both a blessing and a curse did you not think ?
to tell me in less reckless ways you lost yourself in this fragile dance for two
Inside this tango of passion you dipped then dropped, where was the floor ?
that swallowed me like a Spanish dancer with a Rose between her lips
Idealistic player that you are we fitted right, so what sin did I commit?
Truth be told the only one that I could think of was loving you too much
Ignoring all your calls I tried to make a life without you in it but why oh why ?
tackling all my dance moves you got me like a Flemish wounded poppet
Indian giver that you are you loved then passed it on, so why was she ?
tangerine lipped & coiffed congealed to your chest like a Minerva Goddess
Ice cream words melted from the heat, castanets clapped & where were you ?
tendencies often nothing more than Paso Doble moves for you, so you slid
Inside your wealth like a hoof. A Hexabranchus man, did you not miss?
the little doll you toyed with in Valencia while the festival of fire was going on !
August 27 2022
Sponsor Mark Toney
Contest Name 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 13
I’ve been here waiting for your breath to come.
Still, I would have move and forget the ruin,
By then you’d say I’m just a fool and Idiot to some.
Please, I already beg the Great land of the Bruin,
To receive this transmission from a far,
Neglect not this for it’s my soul you mock.
My poppet I beg and bleed for this to par,
Will you now take my empathy and unlock?
Touch the layer that breaks so you can see,
My depth is that you toyed and ache.
Search my soul for it holds an empty sea.
Lay your hand on me and take.
Whatever you say or do I miss.
The trace of you left behind I tart.
No matter how dark or painful I search in this Abyss,
I will never leave you my poppet for we will never be apart.
the dried apple-headed
grandma poppet smells
cinnamony*
appearing toothless
grinning
dressed
in calico*
Contest:SEPTOLET THE PUPPET
Poet: Debbie Guzzi
Date:9/22/12
Heaven knows why you wish to hear anger and misdirected blame
tossed toward you on the ether by unknown souls, what a shame ..
You are misguided, mistaken, a mischievous little maudlin imp
to encourage such bad behavior, and to have us not skimp.
Hornet nest poker, naughty miss, you'd withhold a frog's first kiss
Listen young lady, no good comes of bad reminisces
so, curb control issues, chart your own course, hand on the rudder,
I see you there now, through my third eye, so, don't think to sputter.
Silly, silly, woman, a whirlwind you wanted and now you fret,
you just remember, never forget, you're a real girl poppet.
Stringless poppet with that cute little nose, so engrossed in prosey
write to me from alphabet soup, spin me a fairy tale rosy.
Divine are the curls 'pon your head and your sparkling green-blue eyes
and that heart of gold ..well..you're loved and it's no real surprise
for you sprinkle stardust on our lids at midnight, spinning sweet dreams.
Blessed was the day you were born to this earth, smiles on moonbeams.
Demur as a pink rose, soft as a kitten, we're smitten,
addicted, transfixed, are all by the proseys you've written.
Words, though sublime, can never truly tell of your glory,
only Shakespeare and Wordsworth could do right by your story.
How do I keep writing when my words have no sense, how can I keep going, from happy to tense, how do I keep going wrong, why does my poem turn into song?
Why do I struggle to fall asleep, why do my words hurt so deep, why does night fall upon me, what is there that I can't see?
Why do demons haunt my dreams, why is life ripping at the seams, why does it hurt to breathe so slow, why does it seem I have nowhere to go?
Why is death always on my mind, why is pain never far behind, why do I struggle to smile so kind, why don't I giggle or laugh or unwind?
Why do I ask all these meaningless things, when tomorrow even no answer brings. Goodnight, poppet, and sweet horror dreams, I know you'll hear my anguished screams.
I am your little voodoo doll your little effigy, I am what you hate the most, your number one enemy
You made a model of me so that you could inflict pain at any time, and what did I do to deserve this punishment? What was my crime?
Is this your way of expressing your anger that you feel burning inside against me? Tell me why did you make me your poppet? Can’t you just let me be?
Oh, you casted this spell on me and I must live with this dreaded curse, I don’t know how to feel, you’re the one pulling the strings and that makes this so much worse
I trusted you with my heart and soul and you completely baffled me, you were evil from the start, but I just couldn’t see
You keep pushing and pulling these pins in and out, out and in, like this is all a game to you
Are you that cruel? Or just bored? With nothing better to do
Whenever I enter your mind I know because I feel the stick of the pin, and oh how clever you are, you think that you’re going to win
I’ll know when you’re done with this game and when you’ve moved on to your next victim to play, because I’ll be left lying useless like a ragdoll with nothing to say
I will be left with the ugly scars, the reminders of when you chose me, to be the unwilling pawn in this game that you have crafted so carefully
I wanted to be something to you but not what you made me to be, I wanted to be the good in you, not the cruel and witty
Why am I your enemy? Is it because I loved you too much? Or did I say something that offended you? Please tell me why you chose me to be your voodoo doll, go ahead end it all, and just push the pin all the way through.
I am a would be "poet".
I guess you know what I mean
"poppet".
I got my minds made up to my God
at this "moment".
Evil things, bad things, Jesus make
me "vomit".
On my past life, I know many will
"comment".
But I ain't scared, I am backed by
the heavenly "government".
Making sure, I am shielded from
evil "bombardment".
Don't expect me to sit here, do nothing
like a "monument".
I raise up my hands in prayer, in great
"commitment".
I avail myself, use me, bring thy word
to "fulfillment".
For the lost years, I pledge, I will work
for you till death my "retirement".
The greatest commission being one of
a must do "commandment".
Blood of Jesus, wash my sins as a sign of
"atonement".
Thank you for fishing me out of sin "predicament".
The endless page is a story of meaning
that she has so excellently sewn
The endless sentence is but a fire
that she has so excellently extinguished
and she mixes quill and ink.
Among the morning dew is when I had to leave
because of her unconscious fallacy
And she may not realize it yet
that it troubled me so
She writes the endless page,
with endless words.
I who lives one-thousand miles away from love
I who has decided to drain himself of rationality
am announced upon a letter from the post master
and I who is shamefully evil
entail the details;
the endless page.
"My Dear love,
to whose actions I cannot express
why am I such a deceit to you?
The deceit to which you left little explanation
the girl to which you killed with burning ambition
Why do you fare with my heart
why must you treat it like a poppet?
"My Dear love,
I'm forever sorry for never detailing
just how much I love you
And the pain to see you everyday
just reminds me of the darkness;
my dear love
I'm in the ground now,
as you read this endless page."
On beginning to compose a new poem...
Assaying thoughts gambol,
scuffling as in an affray
née crushing, jockeying, stampeding...
demanding equal airplay
gushing as metaphorical think
spigot turned on full force airway
thru totally tubular cerebral
microcosmic aisleway
vesicular conduit fifty
plus shades of gray
exhaling sigh of relief, cuz
transcending writer's block
innovative talent with words
did once again allay
needless panic, where yours truly
finds himself punchdrunk
in some dark alleyway,
an unfortunate fate
Matthew Scott alway
avert reminding myself
to utilize ujjayi breath
hard driving gateway
into Pranayama practices
analogous to make
emotional transit thru
golden itty bitty
teensy weensy archway
infinitesimal impossible mission
to pinpoint areaway,
yet crisscrossing meditative
zen zone an array
of utmost nirvana
will never lead effortless
mantra buffeted concentration
not lead astray
and matter of fact
lightness of being
scaling metaphorical kickstarting
rah height aweigh
up yonder within
outer limits twilight zone
re: supraconsciousness
keeping at bay
non intrusive thoughts
ruff lee collaring, mimicking belay
boring bonafide dog obedience training
pant tum miming (think) begging
for limp bizkit, thus
canine loosens seat belt buckle
one notch braving violating
no trespassing sign
despite petsmart restriction
heavy populated wall tint
head nab yule Haitian
made Christmas benday
eerily resembling voodoo
cursed poppet summoned
if anybody doth betray
not being spellbound
hence, blithely skipping
reading future poetry (mine)
magic edict I dost bewray.
A poppet swings upon a paradigm of flight.
Cruising at an altitude below the starry night.
Its wings made out of vines.
Its seat reverberates in oak.
A poppet’s pure airborne oxygen of sight.
3/14/2018