Best Quavers Poems
/I\
~a branch
snuggles it tight,
messing ivory ringlets
while beneath the orchard,
grayish cones on iced moonlight rips.
Winter now bears her dry skin, as children
romp around a frozen trunk with boughs gleaming
like crystal tassels. Nippy a fir which quavers through
whiffs of glacial air : the assemblage of leaves
falling through hardened snowflakes...
Quietly, new moon brightens this view
Crowning its frothy head on an evening
where owls
trembling
dizzily on
its twigs,
hoot low
eyes wide;
until the tangy scent pervades
long after evergreen slumbers on.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
12/6/2018-- Revised
Shape Contest for Eve Roper
While looking far beyond misty gale
until convulsion of night quavers--
just remember, in spite drizzles
new morning salves torment:
I watch those gentle eyes roam
against a skeletal frame--
yet, lightness around you glows
more precious than dawn.
Cherishing you this way
soothes the vicious gush of hours;
and that raindrop upon a sallow face
trickles down onto a furrowed neck,
defying the tumor of pain its mortal ovation…
Although brave those eyes are, white cells
invade an exhausted gait like thinning hail.
I watch you smile heroicly at night’s downpour, Mama--
You are beautiful fragile as the raindrop.
11/20/2018
For Craig Cornish’s The Raindrop Contest
indescribable,
untranscribable ~
imbibable, your exotic, quixotic perfume
spiraled me into a quandary
of dirty laundry, penance,
no superintendents in attendance
I come from ragged boys, no poise,
just noise ~ a quiver of quavers,
no saviors of silence,
but if some sap sullies our sister
we'll flatten him
you come from platinum
a blessed nest of nuance,
a quay of kindness,
finesse, fineness ~
savvy sophistication, subtlety
a quaint saint I ain't
then poise met noise
you became my bible;
undeniable, heavy sighable,
unclassifiable ~
indescribable
Written 12 Feb 2021
These words I write rest, riff, repeat half and whole notes within.
It vibratos, quavers, and resonants in your noggin.
Strumming soberly on my-six standard
snapped, worn and improvised heart strings.
Chords tuned over life’s onerous tread
Tightened and loosened in my head.
Allowing residue if I transcribe attunement
So, I reworded through musical arrangement
Of neither trumpet-warning war to make ready
Nor saxophone-uplifting gravity of anxiety
But guitar, from my heart, playing my testimony.
When reading, your experience's singalong in harmony
Her spouse wise or unwise, who can tell. Does he dream in midnight hues? Oh why doesn’t he wake up, or at least spit out that last sleeping pill. He might choke on it. The still of the night rattled by the movement of the boundary, like a lion’s hungry stomach. The moon roars creating goosebumps, pricks upon tender white skin. She barely breathes. Did anyone leave snacks inside this circus tent… Please...please...please. Helplessly she lies as the khaki quavers, heart frantic. She’s never thought herself mad, but like in a Poe story, the tell-tale… She imagines the lion with reflective eyes, baring full gums, toying with her...this is no cuddly kitten. Would her full-sandman spouse wake up, wonder where she’d gone, as the kindly sunlight blinded him to the truth. The truth is she would kill him, if only he’d open his eyes. Could she forgive him… At long last, darts race toward the roaming moon...she imagines that ghastly animal tumbling underneath the skirt, landing at her feet, swirling dust, an incomplete thought as the ferocious tongue lolligags onto her bag. Her husband smiles and turns over satisfied as he kisses his dream wife, moaning with pleasure; danger the last thing on his mind, as the hunters drag away the predator whose smell lingers in the morning coffee, the cigarette’s ash, the wife’s nostrils. And all the community can do the next morning is make fun of the snoring gun, the gray-haired spoon, and midnight adventure.
the pile of gumdrops
sparkle like dew for kitty
here kitty...kitty
11/2/2020
TORPEDOS’ NAPALM
T remors shocked the penguins of the Arctic Circle.
O rbital the water lobbed in the ocean.
R otating in a circumnavigating format
P enguins dangled high in the air.
E stablishing that quavers do manifest in cold weather,
D issolving the water into a formed ditch.
O nly the vibrations remained.
N uclear bodies lye in rigor mortis.
A ssassinated by the bombastic troposphere.
P lugger material that could be sold
A s thick plastic
L anguor in stillness.
M issiles sent by God.
______________________________________________________|
Written February 19, 2016!
Her eyes, though once bright, are cloudy,
shrunken and fragile the form
that long was brimful of vigor
and a will to outlast life's storms.
She stares past a blank horizon
through a door that I do not know;
the colors she sees are memories,
scents and sounds of the long ago.
A kaleidoscope of faces
turns merry-go-round in her mind;
while trees out her window whisper
soft lullabies long left behind.
The sound of my cheery greeting
draws her back to this metal room,
away from a creaking rocker
and her mama's sweet, gentle croon.
It is not my name she whispers
as I bend down to kiss her cheek,
but a name more dear than ever
mine was is the name that she speaks.
"Papa," the feeble voice quavers.
I am no more a part of her world;
the grandma that soothed my sorrows
is once again Papa's wee girl.
© 1987, Faye Lanham Gibson
sometimes the snow falls in sheets of white,
a blanket of excited kisses, playful -
fleeting
dampening your thoughts
racing your heart
and sometimes, the snow
falling in sheets of white
brings waves of brittle stings, sharp reminders
memories in the ice that bite
sinking your heart, making it cower -
you shiver
your lips quiver but it's not the cold
not the journey through the snow,
it's hunching your shoulders
bowing your head low
lifting a weighted foot, bringing it crashing down -
the snow bites at your lips
dapples your cheeks with tears
making you close your eyes,
bow your head to your chest, and slave through sinking steps
and always,
the last wave comes and falls,
and around your knees, like a rugged embrace
lies yesterday's shower
and as the sun rises
that soft pit of tingling kisses and prickling bites wavers under the needs of a new day
and this caked ground quavers and sunders
flows away, leaving you damp and shivering once again,
so you lift unfettered foot, send it forth onto cleared paths
and march into the warmth of a new day
and the dampness on your clothes is no match
the dampness in your bones just a scratch;
but for the dampness in your chest
the sinking of your heart....
as head holds high and shoulders lift
chest is pumped to the heats caress
so comes the healing of the sun, to mend the damage of your plight.
Ludwig Leichart
This perplexing country,
(such an under statement),
where rivers run upside down,
marbles are strewn by the Devil
and Songlines
etched in memory are
sung by those few who know.
Seeking Victoria,
the blazed trees could not help,
the Prussian collapsed, looking at the blue.
Initialled stunted trees showed the way,
signposts to oblivion,
while the heat,
always the heat,
in a furnace of shadeless infinity
dessicates his body.
What use the blaze?
He cannot walk or crawl,
only a palanquin borne by flies,
Oh the flies,
will carry him there
until their wings melt.
He came from the south
humming tunes from a Baroque choir
to reach the Arafura sea,
where Cornish stone -masons build chimneys
to ward of the chill (sarcastic laugh).
and a Tamarind tree guards the entrance.
The red coated soldiers have left
And he, Ludwig had vanished.
A fanfare blasts, .
Is that an angel holding Brown’s hand
up there on top of a nunatak of the desert,
the quavers and semi-quavers merging
in an anthem of despair?
Across the globe, music ascends—a universal zephyr,
Bridging cultures in harmonious yearning;
Chords converge from Andes to the Zangezur, xenharmonic,
Dulcet tones of a duduk—in the air, they whisper.
Every note—an echo of humanity's vibration,
From flamenco's fire to the finesse of a cello's undulation;
Gamelan's gongs—a gamut of sounds' timbre,
Harmonium's hum—hearts and spirits, it serenades.
In India where the sitar intricately resonates
Juxtaposed with jazz as New Orleans quavers;
Kora's strings kiss the breeze as Africa pulses.
Lyrics leap across lands—in mosaic form, it oscillates.
Marimba's mallets are on wooden keys lightly narrate
Ney's notes always navigate in a trance-like murmur;
Oud's ornate voice offers a limericking lyric
Perhaps to partake in profound kinetic kinesis.
Qanun quietly queries—a quivering jumping jubilation
Rhythms resonate—a restorative impressive intonation;
Samba's syncopation—a spirited harking harmony
Tabla's tempo—a testament of gripping grandiloquence.
Uilleann pipes uplift with urgent a fever for fervor
Violins voice the vibrancy of the endless echo;
Whistles and winds—the world's diverse diapason
Xylophone's xylography—a cross-cultural cadence.
Yodeling yonder in the Alps' billowing bellow
Zither's zephyrs—a zenith we accentuate and attune.
The garrulous, Greek grape gatherers,
Joined joyously with jocund japes,
The olive pickers and Ostrich plucker’s,
Celebrating the seasons success in song.
The querulous quiver of musical quavers,
From a quorum of quality wine quaffer’s
Reverberated robustly round the room,
And resonated rhythmically from the roofs rafters.
An altercation arose amongst some aggressive Athenians,
Averting an armed argument was avoided adroitly,
By brave, bold buskers, brusquely berating their bombast,
And loudly and laudably lamenting such Loutish leanings.
Personally I drank my Retsina and went back to my Hotel,
Tunefully
notes cry out singing to me
melodiously haunting ringing crystal clear
perfect sharps resound semi-tones rend through the air
quavers hover in the air so very many sounds
join together mingling, blending
Joyfully
I sing along music carrying
me to paradise sounds so sweet
flutes playing high notes drums bang out the beat
harps, oh the harps angelic notes float
rift the air celestially majestic
Enchanting
written 08/10/2013
contest creative
layouts
I sit and wait. I was here yesterday.
Sitting. Waiting.
Dead air. Bereft of sound
Suddenly, faculty for perceiving sound
is returned, and loud blown is the Gjallar
horn as Heimdallr guides my pen and
all in Valhalla shall sing once more
Technically flawless, an opportunity
to state my case before a jury of
disheveled Quavers or Couplets
Light and shade, tinged with solar flares.
Forgotten chords brought into focus
like a mammoths trunk pushing
through ice
Born from a deserted ghetto,
notes travel through a sieved mind
and flow down a river of ink to lie
on a staff of competing candidates.
Repeated, like a stanza's refrain
Eventually, this piece of presented
integrity shall be read by the corrupt,
listened to by the judgemental and
edified by the moribund and obsolete.
Those tut-tutters arriving home from Sunday church,
with their angled wrecking balls of slanted beliefs,
having already secured their forgiveness; proceed to
tear the larynx out of this persistent little song bird
Freak us together,
In beauty and love to cast,
Life time of longing,
Moments to cherish and burn;
Know it for freedom,
Our love wants us to be one,
Truths in sensation,
A joy we can feel to learn;
Link me to pleasure,
In new longing to see you,
Shadows I may click,
Vision blurs and blends, I blink;
Blush me endearments,
As my heartbeats follow you,
Thrill me forever,
With a lovable smile to grow;
Hold you in magic,
To breathe a freshness in love,
Glee with sensations,
Quivers in default I wish;
Touch you with feathers,
As you lust for misty winds,
Lewd my intentions,
Go dizzy for I exist;
Numb yourself with fire,
Seduced with warmth by my lips,
Clashes in our tongue's,
As foreplay rolls to grin;
Lure me with passion,
To crush and knead your compliance,
Tender thy fury,
Provoked they tend to cry;
Feel rubbing fingers,
Molesting you all the time,
Raptures to play,
I demand the same form you;
Teeth and the nail marks,
I dig and bite with relish,
Infuriate hunger,
Till you yearn in pure turmoil;
Music on piano,
Playful high notes to sing,
For we burn fingers,
As our skills torment quavers;
Curve and cleft defy,
Urges coaxing to climax,
Hit and run choices,
Can we surrender to dream?
Mama Matron Kudos to you
Aunty Nurse thanks a lot
But you heard my cry
Where you were laid fairly dead
And I could hear your voice
Where I was making noise
You kept asking
Where is my baby?
All because of me!
As if that was not enough
Though in pains you laughed,
Clapped, sang and danced
Even with no drums
At your breast on your chest
Very close to your heart
With every act and art of care
You fed me with milk
Till I'm filled to the brim
You would never eat
You could lay me on several places
But you carried me at your back
And faced all the arrows
That life shot at me at childhood
All because of me!
You touched me
As you taught me
Your teachings are true
And your finger prints
Are all over me
They can never be forged
Or duplicated
And anywhere I go
They are everywhere on me
Thanks for your mother-friendly care.
As the sun rises
I remember your smiles
Racing across the miles
All like stars in my sight
Not with a bait
But weights of love
From all heights
It becomes brighter
I remember your laughs
Like the moon brakes forth
Send me some smiles
Across the miles
And they would find me.
When the earth quavers
You held my hands
To help my heart
Though you grow old
As you advance in age
It behooves your body
To beseech an abode below
Your spirit prepares
For the final flight of faith
That needs no plane or pay
Thus, your motherhood
All through my child-adult-hood
Forever holds
If you had written your names
On the pages of my diary
It could be lost
But you have inscribed it
On the plate of my heart
It can only take time
To be remembered
Dedicated to V.A Aderounmu.
© Fisayo Aderounmu.2012