Best Rashly Poems


The Introvert

Darling—
You strung together useless trinkets of imagination,
And pinned me up inside your head. 
With dreams that stalked me across the night,
But were too big to drag out of bed.

You clung to the savior you rashly mistook in me,
Like a lover clings to her dead.
When I never meant a single word,
Of whatever I might have said.

Verily, I wasn’t rummaging for anything at all;
I certainly wouldn’t have begun in you.
The god you saw, I have seen, as well, 
But only in the self I pursue.

And so I rose from shards of the mirror,
And snatched away from your fussy little hand.
For as I slept beside you, I slept nonetheless alone,
In a dream you could never understand.   

I never used you because you were useless,
Never belonged to you because I don’t belong.
Couldn’t fulfill my emptiness with your own,
And could only pretend for so long. 

But now I can’t gouge you out from within me,
From a place that never was there.	
From a bottomless, unquenched solitude,
In which you simply could not fare.  

What you wanted to see wasn’t in me;
I can’t give you what you think you need.    
We’re ever alone, yet we try to outnumber our loneliness,
When in turning inward, we are freed.
© Jessica Vh  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Hearty Poetry Soup

It’s the time of the year to make a steaming hot soup
To remember some of the best in our poetry group*
When I make soup I throw in everything I have in stock
My hot poetry soup will consist of many from our flock.

I will begin with a large piece of prepared Cunningham
Into the pot, to which I’ll add broth of Balasubramanian
Next, I’ll add spices of Ellison, Allison, and Krutsinger
Cooking for awhile at a medium to hot temperature.

I toss in helpings of sweet McIntosh, Rodriguez, Canerdy,
Buehler, Weiss, Proxenos, and lots of bold Choudhury.
I let the soup come to a boil, adding Logan and Dietrich
Turning it down to simmer soon after adding Kendrick

I cover it over with Gentile, mixing in Flood and Pinet
I let it bubble gently, perhaps, for the entire day
By now, my soup has grown and I am feeling rashly
Because I failed to add in some La France and Ashley!

Uncovering, I’ll add them both to the wonderful fixings,
Quickly tossing Wolf, Jacob, and MRR into the mixings.
The “sweet smell of success” makes me break into song
For its perfectly clear with Poetry Soup, I can’t go Wong.

#39 on Top 100 Poems of the Month
Poetry Soup, November 3, 2021
written November 1, 2021
[*My sincerest apologies to the many
marvelous poets I could not fit into my soup!
Please forgive me!]
Form: Rhyme

The Owl and the Coyote

A lonesome coyote howled deep in the wood
And a MOST unwise owl somehow misunderstood
Oh, alas and alack!
She rashly hooted back
(And she hooted as hard as she possibly could)

"Who the heck heeds my howl, for god's merciful sake?
Could this perhaps be my potential life mate?"
..."Give a hoot who you hoot at
if you don't know just who 'dat
You hoot at!" screeched the owl a wee bit too late

The gossip that followed defied explanation!
Squirrels scolded scathing and righteous damnation
The eagle screamed from his peak
"Don't even show us your beak!"
(An owl with a tarred and feathered reputation)

The coyote's good name turned muddy and mucky
Rumor spread like the plague so he never got lucky
"Your character is fowl"
Hitting up on an owl?"
(Last I heard he migrated to Kentucky)
Form: Limerick


Premium Member Sailor's Quandary

Shall I do penance for my hasty words,
or poise myself on this quaint narrow quay
to smell the salty perfume of the sea,
on platinum ship sail so far away?

I quiver with trepidation and dread.
Forgive my horrid rashly spoken speech
before I venture this stormy voyage.
Assuage my repentant heart I beseech.

Alas I am in sad, sad quandary.
I pray you hear my true profound remorse,
accept my ardent amends and redress,
before I embark on this lonely course.

Premium Member Hindsight 20-20

Once I shared a long hidden secret with the one,
I thought was my friend, through and through.
But little did I think it would hit back on me
Like a boomerang, breaking my heart.
She betrayed my trust with my reputation at stake. 
Within days, it became a juicy gossip,
A fodder for many to ruminate and cud. 
What was ‘whispered in the ear was shouted from roof tops’!
Behind my back, many used it against me.
With them, my secret became a sharp tool.
They used it at will to cut and bruise me.
I lost my sleep and reacted brashly.
It became a wound that began festering.
I longed for a release from my pent- up wrath.
I wondered if I could glue up the broken shards,
And become whole again, my former self.
It took a long time, to come out of the resentment.
But with the passing of time, the pain began to fade
And the heart once broken slowly started to mend
Not to have a repeat, decided to set my boundaries marked.

That bitter experience taught me some vital lessons,
Which I won't ever forget in life.
My hindsight told me that I should change,
In some areas where I am most vulnerable.
Learned the hard way to be more cautious
To guard my secrets and never spill the beans!
Also not to venture to be all open before others.
Never again shall I struggle to fit in
With a loose tongue, in any company
Just to entertain others with frivolous talks!
I am also careful not to rashly blurt out my feelings.
How I wish to become more prudent and discerning 
In choosing friends and trusting them!
I also resolve to always keep my calm,
Even when I know my words are misinterpreted.
Looking back on all that has happened in life, 
I don't think I have many regrets.
All my experiences, good or bad have been signposts,
That led me to where I am and who I am today.

Still there are some things I wish I hadn’t said at all.

Forget Me Nots

Such wondrous things that come to you from travels far and wide.
Trinkets and knick knacks you keep somewhat near at hand, and never too far from your side.

Throughout life's journeys You'll check on them for fear they'll be left behind.
Being of meaningful purpose; that's remembered whenever they cross your mind.
Naively not that you're rashly in love; although of them 
your feelings are warm and kind.
Solely fond memories of notable times; ergo they're ne'er out of place nor ever hard to find

'Tis odd you must hold onto them whether your abode's a fancy home or merely a shared cot.
You realize as long as they're safely tucked away, in the place of "Forget Me Nots";
You're strangely better off with them__even if they're  all that you have or got.
 ~~~ w 11172018


Premium Member No Problem Is Too Big For Jesus

Life seems a never ending struggle, or times of loss.
From our own iniquities will our youth pay the cost? 
All the hunger, all the drugs
No more love who cares enough to hug
So many types of addictions
Are we guilty of so many inner afflictions
Calling each other names
I think everyone is to blame
So much killing and crimes on the street
Everyone is lying, now days who does not cheat
People are sometimes so overwhelmed by circumstances so they act rashly
Build up anger makes them think swiftly and violently
We are governed through pompous bureaucratic procedures we love to hate. 
Only God knows our fate.
Society suffers by losing the imagination and vitality of life
We all need courage to overcome all this strife
Some people think there is total hopelessness 
We Americans are truly blessed 
Who will be the guide that leads us towards the light 
Someone that will love us whether we are wrong or right
This someone will bring us true love and peace he will free us
We know Him as Jesus
Form: Rhyme

Cry

GOD! 
WHAT AM I?
What Am I?  what am i?…

I am less than I hoped to be
 Not, what I dreamed to be.

I am
Perfectly flawed
And framed in pain.

I have wasted my flesh
Chasing rashly, fantasies
I wished to posses

Torment is my brother
And loneliness
My closest friend

I am sinking 
Deeper and deeper
Near the end

END!

I Want It To End.
The torture,
God! Let it end, let it end…
How long, how long, …

How long will it go on 
And it was wrong
So very wrong
Again and again and again.

I am, I am
Perfectly flawed
And framed in pain.

Premium Member I'M a Meat and Taters Guy

I can tolerate most any grub that is placed upon my plate,
Though I must be somewhat selective so as to control my weight!
I love a juicy New Yawk steak and taters with a slab of cherry pie,
'Cause I'm strictly a meat and taters sort of guy!

There ain't nothin' as tasty as a meatloaf with smashed pertaters,
With lots of gravy, new spring peas and fresh beefsteak termaters!
But spare me pickled pigs' feet or a feesh starin' me in the eye,
'Cause I'm strictly a meat and taters sort of guy!

I savor various kinds of soups and a good homemade stew,
And Beringer's White Zin wine with a delectable cordon bleu!
Sushi causes me to barf and pungent kimchi tears my eye!
I reckon by now you've guessed I'm a meat and taters sort of guy!

I relish the products hogs produce like sausage, bacon and ham,
And I don't care what others say, I'm an aficionado of good ol' Spam!
But Lord have mercy! Spare the anchovies, 'specially on a pizza pie,
'Cause I'm strictly a meat and taters sort of guy!

In these politically correct times, some folks might rashly conclude,
That since I detest certain grubs that I'm a prejudiced dude.
Well, that's their problem if we don't exactly see eye to eye.
It just so happens that I was born a meat and taters sort of guy!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member End Of August

August rain: the best of the summer gone, and the new fall not yet born.
The odd uneven time—Sylvia Plath




End Of August
             
The end of August is oh so near                                                                                                     
Yet, another day of golden sun scorches 
Another day with ruby rays that sear
Wild brush burns like fiery torches
No not an exaggeration, a flambeau
Blistering heat blankets my tawny skin
Sweltering August, I bid you adieu
Foliage dry and brittle; sunken in     
Squinting eyes, blinded bright
Awaiting shadows that stretch and deepen                                                             
Sun flowers once vivid, lost in a haze of light
Autumn creeps in imperceptibly subtle, sublimely                                            
Ablaze are the arid western skies
The evening west's sun takes its time, rashly, untimely
Yellow aglow, settling sights of fires belies                  
Lingering sun setting its rouge rage lust 
Harbinger of the season to come 
Equinox heralds a sign,
in the end of August
© I Am Anaya  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Halloween Eyes

Elegant in burnt orange afterglow, 
sparkling starlight opens the show.
Neighbors and strangers appear all aroun’, 
porch lights and car lights enlighten the town.

They arrive afoot and atop handlebars.
Tots wave from strollers like famed movie stars.
Mothers bellowing orders to stay in sight, 
transgressors will rue being naughty tonight.

Flickering lights and untied laces
nudge fidgety feet through their paces. 
Masquerade masks make eager accomplices’
too impish eyes and mischievous faces.

Scowling Jack-O-Lanterns carved in creepy effigies
prove impotent charms to appease candied fantasies.
Festooned arches adorned in orange and black, 
ornate ornaments to win the neighborhood plaque.

Into the gauntlet of terror they swarm; 
dressed to play in pillaging uniform.
Tree and flower tremble and quiver; 
Bumped and trampled in their fervor.

Werewolves wailing through grimacing grins
herald a night of howling hymns.
Ghostly spirits from the bowels of earth, 
hang from gallows, grinning in ghoulish mirth.

Silken chains embracing all who stray, 
beckons the widow to her frightened prey.
Garnished by cackling cries of certain demise, 
steaming cauldrons poach their pitiful prize.

Spades of woe shadow souls who rashly ignore, 
ominous omens attached to windows and doors.
Like tocks from a clock they continue to arrive, 
will the morrow find anyone left still alive? 

Hostiles charitably looting town, 
sacks of booty slowing them down.
Toting bags of looted plunder, 
looming hordes scatter asunder.

Pass me by, to my neighbor grace his stage, 
assuage with him your gluttonous rage.
Rapacious hands swaying in ritual dance, 
exuberance untethered in blitzing advance.

Eyeing my castle the rioting rabble rush in, 
guarded only by growlin’ dog an’ smilin’ pumpkin.
Upon my stoop they brazenly climb, 
my breath on hold, I hear the chime.

My time I fear is near at hand, 
my blood or treasure they demand.
Hunkered down and hidden from sight, 
no mercy presented for my plight.

With sweaty palms and pounding heart, 
please Lord I pray, make them depart.
For a shot of strong “Spirits” I silently scream, 
‘cause I forgot the candy on this Halloween!
Form: Rhyme

Mea Culpa, Extol Belles-Lettres

The Jackal's line of demarcation ye souls' furlough for interim...
Today, cockcrows perturb in a gala thrice for thee quiescent stay,
God's Park of Ephemera, sashays the daggled the minder harks,
a chest not in to rest, of dais edicts, cudgels so contagious; 
haughty wheels peddle rashly between two havocked hearts,
foisting wintry fobs of progeny pleating to let pigeons exeunt,
if bedlam trotting by pothers ye, the cob, yet calmly sings, 
"Fare-thee-well, Oh snowflake in dwindle, hallow me next spring,
via crepuscules, cleaved like vacant aulas crescendo conveyance,
wholly abutting city lights, this chimney calling cannot sight!"
Jolly pedestrians twinge at our capitol! Touring a mindful chance,
Ample of verve, knowing mortuary amblers must get their fight!
"Fountains, thawing ye? Janitor, what does the blind really see?"
tryst squelch time, squirm squander squalors n' ante antiquated feet,
Jocund or beh£s belief! Ye! Behind bellicose belletrists by beggars!
When baubles full-fledged, hast consummated thee to hobnob no more,
jongleur sloshed anchors on mimes bare laid laic stoolie, loupe aims,
Headmost, request lasting breaths above broadcasting fortune n' fame,
Then fated fires the Sniper jostles from home to goad n' prod,
Ye kindred stanchion and I, skimmed, the sunset even with me...
© R.G. Inigo  Create an image from this poem.

Dark Dark Night

Oh dark dark night what dreams do you ignite
And set them roaming passed my will to see
So freely they set off to torment me
There in my darkest hour they delight

What sharp sharp fear makes nothingness appear
And rashly spread their venom cast in doubt
As they laugh out they steal my will to shout
The sharpest sound of all a crashing tear

My warm warm bed becomes a place of dread
And from this prison dare I light the floor
Before those things come crashing through the door
Then swarm the warmest places in my head

Oh dark dark night what blindness has resigned
To loose the darkest things within my mind
Form: Sonnet

Premium Member Bridged the Generations

I am a baby boomer, father fought in World War Two
As a teen graduated high school
Left home joined the service called branch Navy
Left joined in a conflict called Vietnam War
This day, today still don't know why we were fighting for
Now I'm old an elder man
\and I can tell all you young men, (something)
I'm a pathway of wisdom, history, knowledge have been to where you're going
As I continue to talk to you,  you say I'm boring
You are trying to come where I am
you the man, and young woman children boys and girls
elder man bridges the generation
 Of the stories that need to be seen and heard
Pathway of honor dawn, from places of my past
I can tell you things history is my are  (it last)
Rather old past middle age later life  elderly
1865 somewhat aged aging ancient geriatric long lived old older over the hill

Senescent  senior un young a certain age this is what I say...
I'm a road way over depression I am a time a means spanning built over life
Young man time when I am
Youth haven't fully become an adult yet, period between  childhood and maturity
What am (am) I gonna be now I can finally see the bridge the generations
Rashly existence between adolescence and maturity
Haven't been here on this earth long enough to see anything, not anything I go to the things of elders past
Bridges the generations
I now  go to the elders for ally they know my future and my past
Nothing new under the sun
This is what they begun
Now I am an old an alderman and I can tell all the new young men
I'm a path way of winsome history knowledge and light
Pathway of honor drawn for this is right I can tell you his things
History his story is my age, the aged
Rather old past middle age later life elderly
Now I can finally see the bridge the generations

08/18/15
Submitted to
" UNO Poetry book  Poetry to Bridge Generations Elder & Youth 2015"
written by James Edward Lee Sr.
Form: Ballad

Mirage

I had a dream
I was lost in the desert
I saw your face within the sand dunes
I ran to you, carrying my sorrow
Hope was filling my bones
Tears were watering the drought of my emotions
I was standing beside you
But you were a mirage
And I was all alone once again
That’s when my eyes started to hit my cheeks with guilt
My depth burnt with the words you blazed
Blaming me wasn’t enough
So you woke up my trauma
Now I'm living with that fear
Of losing my hope someday
Even though it’s already gone
So far away
Still I need to hear your soul
Tell me you crave for my love
Say you do
Tell me you care, clamor it loudly to the crowd
Look me in the eye
Say you need me closer
Tell me we won’t die
And when it gets harder
We’ll make it easier
Please tell me why my heart’s still invisible
You walked nearby
It called you, you didn’t hear
So it cuddled you, but you couldn’t feel
Rashly, you pushed it, it fell
You crushed it, you didn’t even notice
You kept moving and it didn’t dare to grumble
Was it a dream or I’m denying this reality
My love, is it true
I heard that you came across your euphoria
Somehow you got helped
You got what you deserve
Those emotions I couldn’t serve
When you were crawling apart
Now I'm feeling so numb
My soul is nowhere to be found
I'm chasing your shadow
But it keeps fluttering into the wild murky yonder
I need your light in the night
To rewind those memories we’ve made
When our hearts were hard to separate
Because darling, I don’t plan to live forever
If we aren’t graying together
And if missing you is a felony
Then I declare myself a perfect sinner
For loving you with hunger
Waiting for you on fire
Knowing that you will never come back to my cavern
Where I’m mummified with guilt and so much regret

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