Best Rankle Poems
chaotic uprising of humanity
milling throngs
in their intellectual stupor
search endlessly
for beans ...
and stuff.
murky faces
masking minds
that compete for favors.
races crash in harmony
of wanton pick-up desires
as love ceases to exist.
blaring music
battles pinball machines
to rankle dope shattered nerves.
coffee blotches
tables and chairs of putrid green.
the floor rises up with
suffocating scents.
open twenty-four hours a day
welcoming night souls.
The Hot Dog Palace
a farcical palace
where hot dogs are terrifying
and the Man
can maintain
his scrutiny
of
creation.
The bible
our pure poetry
Divine voice
art -- gallery imagery
Father’s expanding palettes of time
space infinite –
shadows of unframed
formless canvas -- man's freedom
to light, shape, transverse supernal grace,
we, alone, limit speed
and trajectory
bridging dark gaps, colors
dappled, dropped and splashed
faith will make mix, both consciously
and intuitively apply:
heaping our scrapers and brushes,
the chill of the chalkboard screech
the joy of the slip and slide
the rankle of arms and hands figuring
otherwise meaningless medium
Creativity man's Adam
ligaments of my elastic being
dutifully, lovingly allowing stretch
for explore
sinewy constructs for
mental lift and taut endurance,
the unshakable frame that
holds all upright, and
makes daily challenges
superbly sculptable, while
retaining elasticity --
God let’s be
and we decide
if when and what…?
His unseen hand
yet in the flaming attributes….
my little heart is heavy
with its burden of unspoken words
feelings needing expression
are not allowed to be freed
they remain in stately chambers
pampered and spoiled
to keep them complacent
safe from rejection's rankle
my little heart is heavy
the weight is causing pain
the chambers enlarged
with unruly words
tearing the place apart
demanding voice
the cajole as they roll
this way and that
pounding on doors
my little heart is heavy
perhaps it will burst
and all will pour out
without a doubt
something will give way
to another, I say
and the tumbling torrent of torment
will wash any chances away
my little heart is heavy
for just a few moments
in the sweet silence of sympathy
help carry it, for you see
my little heart has become
too heavy for me
Eileen Manassian
Therewithal, profluent life ettles it's while.
Thitherward, from Death's bleak campanile
Grim antiphonals serenade.
A capriccio, the slashing swipe of the reaper's scythe
will serenade.
Stringent Death forthwith anoints the mithridate to
Life's cantankerous and rankling ado
Hither now come, anon recondite Azrael, neither protend
nor annex this throttled contretemps.
The antiphonal of the reaper's cavalier scythe
Shall now serenade.
Awhirl, like kerfs demarcated
Years, bollixed, muzzy and brattled
shall holus-bolus expire.
No retaliation to death's gloomy surcease
No ingenious riposte to the reaper's final cleave.
Bootless now to don the amulets,
squeeze the jujus,
Kiss the talismans,
clutch the periapts or
Attire in steely cataphract.
The serenading of the reaper's scythe,
it's efficacy shall blithely cleave.
Bedim mine eyes from life's assailing
Bedim mine eyes from life's poltroonery
Vocabulary: barghest-a goblin fabled to portend misfortune; monody-funeral song;
antiphonal-chant; protend-to protract in time/lengthen; riposte-n. in fencing, a quick
return/thrust; brattle-v.-to make rattling or clattering noises;
cavalier-supercillious/disdainful/haughty; muzzy-hazy; attaint-v. to condemn; rankle-to
give pain/nettle/gnaw; contretemps-untoward accident/hitch; throttle-v.to
choke/suffocate/strangle/stiffle; bollix-v.-to bungle or botch; holus-bolus-adv.-all at
once/altoghter; mithridate-antidote against poison; cataphract-suit of armor for the
whole body; poltroonery-n. cowardice; a capriccio-musical piece characterized by
improvisation; ettle-to intend/to prepare; campanile-free standing bell tower; kerf-a
groove or notch
Azrael-the angel that helps souls from living to enter the afterlife; recondite-not
easily understood/abstruce;
periapt-a charm worn to ward of evil; juju-object believed to contain magical powers;
contretemps-disruptive unforeseen event; protend-to hold out or stretch forth
the words you wrote still rankle in my heart
and though I try, I cannot find reprieve
you act so well; oh, yes,you play the part
no matter that you've made a heart to grieve
you move on with your life and soon forget
the one you've maimed with words and set on fire
no care for hell on earth; you've no regret
a body charred and burned, I'm on the bier
and yet you wonder why I can't forgive
you come to me with smiles and proffered gift
but true forgiveness I have yet to give
you've not apologized; there's still this rift
A time of reckoning will one day be
when answer you must give for hurting me
Eileen
"Love means always having to say you're sorry" (the TRUE love story).
To Winkin’
Blinkin’
and of course nod.
In terms of
symmetry
prose and
shish kabob.
The tricks and twirls
and polar light;
the flip and flare and star
of kiddy sleepless night
can rip and roar
and rankle up
a juicy fight,
in the twinkle of an eye.
Forget wit and woe
and places to and fro and
things obscure in fuzzy
wuzzy lights to
swing and sway in
wrinkled tights
or sit boldly still
daring you to
a contest of will
hanging in a drop
of drool falling from
yon wounded whipporwill.
Will he will or will he won’t, or
do the thing we don’t?
I see again in terms
of symmetry you see.
But mostly for the rhyme
I hear inside the room
just made for me
in terms of speech and
in the song of my
sweet cooing babe.
© 9/17/2016
Charles G. Henderson
To the North, South, East, and West...
Geniuses are lost in the jaunty jewels of rakish cads,
The hazard morsel palaver allot odium on idioms...
Rankle virulent mishmash wheeze addle chagrin jives,
Loosing a volley of expletives ordure waft charmed oafs,
Self-iniquity gull maven heresy when blighted wizardry jinxes,
Ticklish cynic infidel swindle dupe cozen duress...
Squall patois and whammy sham schemas wriggle hoaxes,
Charlatans and hoodlums melange to dunce vows,
A shyster unquiet quivers with jester gestures now...
Semi-sacrilege vitiate and endemic jargon raze imps,
This collides as a white energy as dolt hooligan knaves beget...
Colloquial bilge putrefy, the rascals soon flatter us,
Bollix of potpourri lingo wanes to tutelary tongues,
Harlequin coercion argot musical novellas in history,
Pray our shifting shrapnel of karma, varnish boor minds,
Erstwhile, live grenades made of better lives are unvanquished as they are
thrown by unsung heroes into the North, South, East, and West,...amen...
What if I put up a blog, or comment about politics.
What if it grates on your soul, in your craw it sticks.
But you think I’m a pretty nice guy, otherwise OK.
You want to support my blog not look the other way.
For the life of you, you find you just can not do it.
You just can’t raise the words from a bottomless pit.
What kind of person am I to put you through all this?
Surely no friend would plead to such thoughtlessness.
There are places on the net for one who is in need,
of venting the poison which in so many mouths feed.
Take your place in history, record your verbal feat.
May you be recognized and valued by all you greet.
Just leave the soup blogs free from political agenda.
Don’t rankle and debate the many political referenda.
Don’t ire the quiet multitude reading your dilemma.
Lest someone go bonkers with a little Iwo Jima.
No matter which side you are on.
No matter you brag or complain.
Someone is always offended.
Please, lets keep politics off the blogs.
Sept 28 2010 Charles Henderson
A LETTER TO MY SON
Listen son
Thinking about the memories you have of me
The memories that rankles
It rankles as long as we sniffle off air
Air of life and eternity
A wave of guilt and remorse
Swept off my pillow at midnight
I had been a cross and a spear
That cut deep into your Childhood
I scolded and humiliated your ego
I had been a threat
Rather than be a FATHER
Do you remember son
When I was on the telephone
Quickly your innocent but timid face
Pop into my room with hurt
Hurt and tears in your eyes
You wanted a touch of daddy
A touch of comfort and a hug
Impatient at the interruption
I snapped at you in neglect
You ran terribly with sickening fear away
You were gone pattering up the stairs
I had been a peril
Rather than be a FATHER
Son you grew up fast
So fast with scars
Scars and wounds that may rankle
I was finding fault and blames
Even when you bid me goodbye
Goodbye to daddy yet I frown
I have caused all the mistakes you made
Because I was a pharoah
Rather than be a FATHER
Well son, God did create you
with a kind blossoming heart
Heart so meek and loving
I reprimanded you in all things
Yet you still rush at night
Before bed to kiss me good night
With remorse and shame
I write to you
It was never hatred
But the wrong habit that repulse
I truely love you son
Now I desire you to dwell in my arms
For I want to take back
All the hurts and pains
To be a better daddy from now.
©Michael Edison
6:15pm
28/5/2016
My x-wife went on holiday
And unbeknown to me,
She broke her ankle in a rankle
When she skied right up a tree.
Her first day back I said to her,
"Did you have a nice break?
She grabbed me by the scruff of my neck
And threw me in a lake.
this veritable unknown bad man in the mirror
would likewise beat it behind the mask
ben writhing in pain to feel best of joy
for (i can't make it) another day without billie jean
in this
black or white
whirled wide webbed world
whereby hypnosis breaking news
like dangerous butterflies effects
ben tormented thus this earth song
time and again experience ye that doth
give in to me
sans like a loved one
gone to soon
but my spirit does want to heal the world
for tis only human nature
to feel claustrophobic shuttered in the closet
all a jam and smothered
yet...please keep the faith
and keep your head up
for tis much to soon
to erase off the wall
memories
that perhaps one day in your life
pretty young thing
would will remember the time
happiness did roll and rock with you
like a rockin' robin
though now ye rankle
like a stranger in moscow
concluding supposed guardian angels
they do not care about us
minor bit players on the global stage
self reflection finds me wondering
if this is it
blinded by unasked for fate
to be blinded in the limelight
haint no thriller
cuz...honestly, i wanna be startin' somethin' fresh
like...paris in springtime
then upon winter of moi descent
into the dimension beyond life
wondering if you will be there.
So, I still
have miles to go
and poems to save,
and time to rant and rave
and snort and shout
and let it all hang out.
I’ll fuss and fume and
act the part expected, ad hoc.
I'll smooth the rankle from my brow
and darn the that hole in my sock.
I’ll lie in bed and contemplate
the path of man, his ultimate fate.
I’ll awaken to the sun at dawn
with rancor as I begin to trim the lawn
and spread some seed for the birds,
the waterfowl and the fawn....
And at dusk with my bride by my side
will close my eyes for that final ride.
CGH 10/13/2018 at 3:58 pm
Thank you God for this wonderful poem.
All I had to do was write as you dictated.
I was never a muscle geek.
Tho’ you wouldn’t call me weak.
Working as a life guard
during summer.
I always took care of myself,
watching my diet and my health.
Growing old is a bit of a bummer
On my arms, I had bumps.
On my chest were big humps.
And my butt at the beach
caused much rankle.
Now my Abs, Pecs, and Glutes
are shaped like a Newt’s.
And my pants fall often
to my ankles.
Apr 13 2010
Asper sweaty palms,
and other physiological ills
nothing beats infusion of
spine tingling electrifying chills -
experiencing psychological nirvana,
(nope NOT even
prescription medication pills)
except attaining, experiencing, and succumbing
delivering to bodily flesh, sans
nightly cathartic, intrinsic dream changing stills
and pacific inner calm gained,
thru shuteye, which tranquility
vis a vis REM hark able slumbers instills
necessary linkedin kickstarter instagram
godaddy transcendent reddit state, and fulfills
verity corroborated by perusing reliable
opinions painstakingly researched tracts
compiled by hands of
expert sleep specialists quills.
No surprise to me reading
(easy to understand)
judiciously, meticulously, and
professionally researched studies,
which unswervingly demand
the absolute zero tolerance
to deny deep jeep grand
(Cherokee) surrender into the land
where lovely bones and flesh
at rest, the agreed stand
hard quota of about seven hours finds
Melatonin the naturally occurring hormone,
secreted by the pineal gland
augmenting figurative trip wire,
where entire corporeal being fanned
by naturally biochemical processes
as if...complex species
guided by invisible hand.
Today, upon arising
without deafening vacuum
cleaner, yours truly did not feel gloom
me, nor rankle, an ordinarily mellow (Hume
more wrist) fellow, nee unlike
yesterday morning, where boom
ming ear splitting cacophony
gravely rented death stillness
unwittingly did exhume
even the grateful dead,
they did fuss and fume
(lumbering like 10,000 maniacs)
furious with rage
unbridled as many a jilted groom
(imagine a billion infuriated room
Hun hating thwarted lovers) assume
ming stanced ready to throttle throat
of she that chose to clean house
no matter engendering global sonic boom.
To run after material fame
Counted not rich sensitive game;
Among wealth, sex and love affair,
Character is above all arbiter.
As adorn ornament each bridal's limb,
An artist make alive clumsy-wart-stone;
Company bear trophy by aggressive troops
Oblige character graceful at distress grown;
The character die seldom minus bloom,
Yet en-lights personality fade in gloom;
Usually left little paid proper care,
Although always seen inclined sincere;
Certain place customary said temple
Where almighty's statue noted install
Estimated body deserving only when;
Thermal of character ne'er fall;
Effort need to build the character
Honesty and endurance are weapon mere;
By effacement total thought rankle
And block pulse hide egotism perennial;
Good name lost can regain later
But character pleases rare if blot;
A richest jewel survive human tread;
Turn soul ill, fret, spiritless on rot.