Best Quagmire Poems
Quagmire of uncertainty, a murky blend,
Underfoot, the treacherous ground extends,
A labyrinth of challenges, where paths bend,
Gripping tightly, the struggles never end,
Mired in complexities, where shadows descend,
In the quagmire, resilience must transcend,
Reclaiming solid ground, on strength depend,
Endurance and fortitude, our guide and friend.
At the scribble Scrabble table
I'm raising the bar
by adding seven lucky tiles to your letter R
Vanna please let me buy a vowel or
can I have a few?
I'll take A, E, I , skip the O and gimme a U
Please allow me three more letters to
fill my desire
I'll take a Q, G, and M to make the word QUAGMIRE
* Written for Nancy Jone's "Scrabble Contest"
Unquestionably, a marked reaction
is better than withholding all action
Factoring in, of course, the distractions
created by pie-chart wielding factions
Sharing the wealth in minute fractions
while gathering corporate pie rations
without any equal sliced transactions
has become to most an awakened distraction
The laborers pie is sliced way to thin
appeased by slogans, needed votes to win
a smiling face says “Hey, things will change!
Just vote me in and I’ll help rearranged!"
When appealing to a government levy
national debt has crushed the helping Chevy
Sorry, Mr., Ms. and Mrs. American Pie,
we’ve burned the crust and the fruit is dry
You see… humble pie is no longer served
nor meek pie for the poor, deserved
That safety pie we once all adored
now litters a congressional pie-faced floor
© Debra Squyres
Fuzzy little balls of fur,
Sleep, stretch, then yawn.
Snuggle up to warmth,
and keep me up 'til dawn.
Eyes that are opening,
and at first they are blue.
Can't wait to see the final color.
I love to gaze at kittens so new.
Each personality shows early,
Lois is needy, and Jasper, smart.
Quagmire is feisty, except for the "goatee",
him and Emmett you can't tell apart.
You all have brought so much joy,
and you take stress away from me.
Even when you're fighting over milk,
you guys are as cute as can be!
“An impulsive action done in haste and without forethought can cause trouble and there is no point in feeling repugnance” - By Poet
When did she have a quarrel with life,
That left her mind with resentment rife?
Her dreams are blurred by a diaphanous mist
And her life has taken an ugly twist
When she felt she was not treated well
She decided to leave the house, seeing it as hell.
Now she wonders if it was an excuse lame.
Knows quite well no one else but she is to blame
She feels her life, now in a slushy quagmire.
Anytime her rashness of action could backfire.
Now at life’s barred gate when she knocks in vain,
The ‘no entry’ sign drowns her in pain.
Far out, her mind wanders into deserts forlorn
She feels the bite of heat even in the morn
Sure, this life for her has become a quagmire.
She desperately needs repair as like a flat tire.
_____________________________
March. 31. 2023
~ Placed First~
Writing Challenge ‘Q’ Words Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Constance La France
I walked the shape of a square
Inside of a circle.
I brought shrimp to a lobster fest.
This morning I woke up
With someone else's nose.
My niece is stuck in an elevator
With no shoes or sox.
The leaves need to be raked.
No one can find the rake.
My brother loves to talk on the phone
But he has strep throat.
I can't pick up the roll of paper towels,
I'm holding this baby.
I'm driving home
And there's not even ginger ale.
I can see the words but can't read them.
I can hear the sounds but can't put meaning to them.
I can feel the feelings but not know how to process them.
My toaster of a heart can't tell when the toast is burnt.
A roaring beach campfire
Waiting for reflective faces
That never show up.
The body as the asylum.
Choices that further enchain us.
You, please, you entertain us.
You will entertain us.
I will entertain us.
***
3/30/23
Writing Challenge "Q" Words Contest
Sponsor: Me, I'm sponsoring myself
Not in any quagmire –
in a wonderful plain,
he raised as a tree
among depression.
In long thoughts,
with a sharp wit,
threw needles around
in the surroundings.
Stood there alone
far from his fellows.
From time to time
bent usually down
under the winds.
From a high crown
to the green grass
lay the landscape,
behind a swamp
there were the hills.
In misery there,
he looked farther,
the stature was higher.
Growth had nothing
to do with curiosity.
Rooted to that ground
needed new to be found,
besides his own side,
in faraway spots.
Tortures took root
in the stock.
Never seen,
never challenged:
all that was high,
all that was far.
He’d strive for a valley,
but grew in a broad
with no kith kin plain.
He has come again
and I am powerless to keep him away
Yeah I desire to hear his voice
yes I know he only speaks lies
Even though they smell like death, I listen
I and he become as one, cursing the groumd
The same ground that supports my step
the same ground where I slept
That dreaded quagmire that shall bring me down
which holds my foot from solid ground
I listen and the why
has forever evaded me
So I tell thee now
fear the quagmire meant only to pull you down
Form:
Space cadets moon
Howling in the night
Why is this apple green?
June 16, 2017
Form Q contest
Sponsored by Broken Wings
quagmire of desire
cupids arrow did not miss
love, passion and pain
'Q' Words
Poetry Contest
Chosen Word: Quagmire
Sponsored
by:
Constance La France
31/03/2023
Pixabay clipart:Ikut
What if Trump was caught in a quagmire
Had gone over his body and entire
And he became so deeply involved
Missed evidence and mystery not solved
Did not re-enlist and contract did expire.
James Horn
Terired Veteran and Poet
This business is not as simple as yes, no
and I know, we both want to know,
how our fate will go.
For every happy start,
it’s not a must,
to have a bad ending,
and for every happy start
it’s not a must
to have an ending.
The continuity is well sustained
if we both agree to obtain,
and abstain,
from all other sort of bargains.
A common understanding.
We may need to talk
but am not sure if we can talk
for we are now stack
in this holly Month.
I know I have been acting strange,
you have every right to protest,
but I don’t know what to say,
for admitting a yes or no,
is not in this game.
Form:
The crepuscular sky is an eerie pink.
It reminds me of my dire situation.
Here I am in the quagmire of solitude.
How does it feel to be stuck without a love?
I just want to rise and leave the world behind.
Lonely moments feel like an eternity
when there is no apparent end for my woes.
Another sun is about to set on me.
It is casting a pink hue on nimbus clouds.
Soon, I shall be shrouded in opaque darkness.
How long do I have to wait for the day’s light?
Let me see the dark solitude pass quickly.
A quagmire is a soft, murky bog that shakes
or yields under the foot:
in other words, a swamp.
One that is imbued with sticky mud;
where progress is impeded
and souls get stuck.
A quagmire is also a synonym:
for an unpleasant, constrictive situation,
from which it is not easy to escape.
Look around you; we are stuck
in a swamp of rage and hate.
A quagmire of our own making.
Bigotry is a by-product of fear and greed,
and the blood of the innocent sullies our souls.
We are sinking into conformity;
stuck in the quicksand of complacency.
Change is strictly rationed to the masses,
and it is tightly controlled by a few.
We are born as a cog in a system
designed to extract our individualism
and replace it with compliance;
thereby keeping us stuck within the very gears
that keep grinding us down.
We need to drain that swamp,
but the alligators are always on patrol.
amble
waddle
search
she strains at her walker
prowling the home's halls
shoe on one foot
bare on the other
in an other worldly time
her soft footed tracks
are marred with circumstance
"where is my shoe?" she wails
a quagmire to be free of
wanting to emerge
sure footed from this hobbit hole
I find her soft black loafer
near her bed
slip it on to her bare foot
like a snap of Cinderella
her discomfort subsides
a "thank you" chipped from rounded shoulders
sometimes a stranger can right hapless motion
when full sight is no longer stitched to an independent will
sometimes things are not exactly in the right place
not fitted with precision
when we can't see what lies ahead
like the end of something hanging over us