Best Puzzlement Poems
He’s never heard one lesson of this class,
but has to get a grade in history.
So he’s shown up at last, sure he will pass
the test that prior students say is easy!
He feels no need to read the test’s directions.
It uses letter symbols; he can tell
he only needs to trust his recollections
about the fifty states. He should do well!
He feels assured that Md has to be
for Maryland, and Missouri is Mo.
It’s very clear Nebraska is Ne.
But why No? Everyone should know that NO means NO!
Ca, Pa, In; a piece of cake!
Then he sees a few that are an utter
puzzlement or just a huge mistake!
Pb, he’s sure, is only peanut butter!
Sg might be Singapore, or else Saigon.
But how are those in U.S. History?
Fr for France? Just what is going on?
The cocky guy is feeling kind of queasy.
At last he thinks to go back to the start
and read the test’s instructions. . . O M G!
The test was on the periodic chart
of elements! Wrong class. It’s Chemistry!!!
Note:
*The correct answers of the test were really
Md for Mendelevium, Mo for Molybdenum,
Ne for Neon, No for Nobelium, Ca for Calcium,
Pa for Protactinium, In for Indium, pb for Lead,
Sg for Seaborgium and Fr for Francium (he was close on that one!)
As for me, I would stay in the history class!!!
I watched a raccoon on a warm, sunny evening
as he lazily sit upon a branch high in the breeze;
When all of a sudden a brilliant, bright butterfly
gently landed just below him on a leaf.
The raccoon's eyes lit up with curiosity at the
brilliance of it's colors, as it's wings slowed to
a soft flutter.
The raccoon reached out to touch the butterfly
and lightly it lifted it's self toward the sky.
The raccoon reached for it once more with
his little hands eager to touched what his eyes
adored. The butterfly would not come close enough
for the raccoon to touch and in puzzlement the raccoon
he did stare and watched the brilliant, bright butterfly
flutter in the air. The raccoon seemed to want a little
friend as the butterfly landed and was now sitting on the
branch's bend.
The raccoon longed to see the butterfly up close and to
touch it's colorful wings it adored. The raccoon stretched
out it's little black hand once more.
To my amazement the butterfly landed in it's hand, this I
adored. As I watched, they stared at each other for what
seemed like hours; It was an amazing site to see natures
love and appreciation for one another.
What a beautiful memory left on my heart of nature's love
and great spiritual power.
She could not understand what I was saying.
I was just telling her about my summer vacation.
Our annual family motor tour.
Mountains with snow that stops where the clouds begin
Pines that climb the mountain
until the air is so thin they can no longer grow.
Snow melting from the peaks
becoming ribbons of liquid ice,
tumbling faster and faster
polishing rocks into pebbles
until the stream becomes a river
flowing with deep silent power to the sea.
Deer in the forest and horses on the trails.
Eagles dancing on the thin fresh air.
Rocks as big as a house.
Puzzlement covered her face,
Disbelief in the slant of her eyes.
I was just as puzzled.
Had she never been there?
Could she have never seen a mountain?
Had she never been out of town?
Was that possible?
I went home - still pondering
Realizing how fortunate am I.
I changed my words into a picture
so she could understand.
Her eyes grew so big.
She was amazed at what she saw.
I was amazed at her reaction.
I brought her a new world
Could I do it again?
I drew another picture, and another, and another ...
I have never stopped being amazed.
Note: This is a true story. We were ten.
When true love’s gone and doom hangs over head
When life runs like a river to the sea
Then shall I take new lovers to my bed?
And with their carnal touch consoled be?
When my love lies,so breaks my tender heart.
When life seems grey and rocks bestrew my path.
Then, shall I my life of evil start?
And on the world shall I bestow my wrath?
When true love lies and wrecks all loyalty.
When puzzlement makes all my world seem mad.
Then I shall upend causality
And let myself do deeds which make me glad.
For I have love’s sweet child inside my soul
And I shall tend her till at last she’s whole
Today’s Good Deed
In your open hand
I placed a red rose petal upon it
You looked up at me in puzzlement
Curiosity won over fear
I replied “ the rose petal fell from the sky”
As I tried to capture and hold, it fluttered to your hand
I am sorry, was not I… simply the wind
You smiled retrieving your hand back to the pen
umm, ummm , excuse me miss
Sorry to disturb encore
You looked up, maybe even wishing me gone
I looked down, how does one fix that frown?
These by the way are for you, please, absorb the fragrance
Twelve lovely red roses
Oh but now your face is the absolute same color
Your frown is a smile
Alas beauty has fallen onto beauty
The mist of yesterdays tear, evaporates
but but but stranger man, why me?
The rose petal was a sign for us both you see
You so wished to know there is kindness in this world
I so wished to make anyone at all smile, even but for a moment
So you see, we both have achieved a goal today
I bid you good day, wishing thee well with flowery bouquet
Off I went, across the street, lurking in the shadows
Following close behind, almost empty street
Behind, a wire quickly wrapped around the neck
I slit the throat, blood spurting to the skies
Shock and wonder, why why why?
Death though came fast, I walked away
The roses made her smile only for a moment
Ah but her stalkers death by my hands.............
Shall wipe the sadness and frown
Her fears you see, I just drowned
In blood
Puzzle Pieces
by Odin Roark
How troublesome the process
This jigsaw puzzlement of completion
That piece of apology
Impatiently gnawing at conscience
Never uttered
Forever evading the moment
The congratulatory gesture
Ever studied for the right angle
The approach that would empower
Not merely pander to an ego
The closure unattended
Acceptance of grieving’s unfamiliar form
The not-yet-ready release from
Mistake’s stubbornly suffocating choke
Even saying I love you
Remains held in abeyance
Fearful of misjudged reaction
Forcing rejection once again
Yet…
Patience remains as always
Our least respected
And most willing protector
Might forbearance have but one goal?
The simplest move of all
Acceptance of the game
Oh how we question
Engagement of challenge
The forever-perplexing summons
The curves
Angles
Miscalculated chances
When life’s countdown only asks
We respect commitment
Without need for interlocking
For conquest
Or gain
That winning is non sequitur
To mortality’s premise
That always-alive existence
Provides tireless refinement
For the countless puzzle pieces
Yet to ponder
Is it a farce to lean on Lent
to receive the black ash Cross
on our foreheads, to walk
home in humble pride alive
to people's puzzlement;
to look forward to Holy Week
not to correct our weak wills?
Is it false to keep a True Lent
to tell others it is our intent
an unholy act to practice?
Is it to quit the dish of our
failings , to fill our hearts with
sanctimony , to have pride
in our many dreadful duties?
Is it to conpete for favour on our
Lenten voyage of spiritual quest
to show the comedy of our worth?
Is it to mock materialism that God
provides by putting it upon others
to show its limitation in our lives?
Is it to show false humility for our
road of rights not our responsibility,
to apologise for the flesh of Christ
in case it so offends our fellows?
It is to keep a True Lent by the boon
of Jesus Christ's Resurrection?
To say God’s non-existent I draw a blank
It defies all logic if I might be frank
When a crisis that’s pending
Has a real happy ending
And an Atheist is grateful, who does he thank?
When true love's gone and doom hangs over head
When life runs like a river to the sea
Then shall I take new lovers to my bed.
And with their carnal touch consoled be?
When true loves lie and break my woman's heart.
When life seems grey and rocks bestrew my path.
Then, shall I my life of evil start
And on the world shall I bestow my wrath?
When true loves lie and wreck all loyalty.
When puzzlement makes all the world seem mad.
Then I shall upend causality
And let myself do deeds which make me glad.
For I have love's sweet child inside my soul
And I shall tend her till at last she's whole
It was wonderment.
The mesmerizing expression rolled off her tongue in waves.
To my puzzlement I was in a state of allurement.
Her vibes were sent to me in soothsaying proportions.
It was almost trickery, but I knew where I was going.
To the festivity that arose through great apprehension.
Thoughts intertwined with her perplexity.
Her magnetism pulled me into an eternal trance.
We floated into elation of bewilderment.
Bygone indifference; we are one.
You are my goddess; ravishing, statuesque radiance.
Purely beautiful with a beautiful mind, heart and soul to match.
To my amazement I found her within.
She was snuggled in my organism.
Wrapped up in all of my thoughts.
She was warm.
I was connected with my wizardry.
She brought out the magic in me.
It was a prophecy.
To be told; never old.
We are undead together and full of life.
We are everything and nothing and everything in between.
And we are an incantation of youth.
We are; limitless.
Nonesuch bewitchment nor black art or ill will.
This was love as we hither to the schism of bliss.
Away with all devilry; we roam galaxies of heavens.
I hold you in my hands like a dragonfly who lets me.
My dragon with fire that doesn't burn me.
My butterfly who can hold my weight.
My snow in the sea; my light in the haze.
My flowers in the dirt; my green in the concrete.
Sail through my eyes, past the smoke.
Bring me closer to another zenith.
Give me your endless sensual voodooism.
My muse I adore; forever more.
She has taken me to that statuesque radiance.
I had a mouse come in my house;
I hoped it would not stay.
Lucie took one look at it
and tried to run away.
Lucie ran beneath the sofa,
the mouse then ran there, too.
Lucie jumped and took right off,
just like a streak of blue.
The little mouse then came back out
and sat there on the floor,
cocked its head in puzzlement,
then headed for the door!
To whom shall I say my last goodbye?
To the shining sun or to the shady sky
**
To whom shall I say my last goodbye?
To the lost happiness or to the last cry
**
To whom shall I say my last goodbye?
To the tough person or to the tearful eye
**
To whom shall I say my last goodbye?
To the former failure or to the first try
**
To whom shall I say my last goodbye?
To the right answer or to the wrong reply
**
To whom shall I say my last goodbye?
To the unstoppable what, when, how or why
***
Blackmatta
The old girl looked lost, standing there,
Puzzlement resonating on her leathered face,
As she gazed at the mouth of the pillar box.
The box, an iron sentry, all guardsman red,
A stoic ********, a passive recipient of mail,
Gave no ground, gave nothing away.
Beyond the iced glaze of her grey eyes,
Something sparked – scant and fleeting.
A fission trip of memories, in tumult.
Banshee voices howling doggerel phrases,
Mouthed and distant in the windswept canyons,
Barely heard, or heard only in snatches,
The receptors torn and ragged.
Why had she come here?
What should she do?
She would have known in the summer of
Years ago;
But in the winter of today
Silence and confusion, the cold splutter of atrophy,
Told her only of mystification.
I watched for a while and then approached.
I smiled at her and pointed at the white envelope
Clutched in her weathered right hand.
“Shall I post that for you, Gram?” I inquired.
“Who are you?”
She said.
A Memorable Senior Moment
By Elton Camp
Old Mrs. Jones reached her car in the parking lot
Oh, but what an unwelcome surprise she then got
For two strange, rough men were sitting inside
With sudden anger, the elderly lady then cried
“I have a handgun that I know exactly how to use.
Get out of that car unless it’s death you choose”
The two men immediately fled with the greatest fear
For the old lady made her intentions perfectly clear
Mrs. Jones opened the car door and took a seat
Attempts to insert her key with failure did meet
She looked around with puzzlement and surprise
A pack of beer and a football caught her eyes
She realized her great mistake and quickly found
Her own car that was parked two spaces down
She drove to the police station there to confess
How it was she had created such a horrible mess
The officer laughed because he had to retort
Two men had come in to give a scary report
“A crazy, gray-haired old lady hijacked our car.
Please go after her, for she can’t have got far.”
Don’t cry
I have no idea whether my leaving story is real
I remember that once I wrote on the wind wall
Iam not alive without night
In this undoubtedly faith in love
I am afraid of night s loneliness
What wrong have I done that I have to like my leaving
I understand of your love that love is a scrawled writing on the wall
Is a writing on feeling leaf
Is walking beside loneliness of dried leaves
And is farewell of a pigeon who lost his way to home for years
You didnt draw me in this white painting
And I will remain in this puzzlement
That my leaving is real
Or your white painting