Best Rattled Poems
“The Queen-Sized Bed”.
© London F. Buss
A queen-size bed was coming slowly,
down the rough dirt track.
As it drew closer,
The wheels clumsily mounted on the base of each leg,
rattled like a hospital gurney on the stones.
The bed was being pushed slowly,
ever so, carefully.
By a weary old man in tattered clothes and worn-out shoes.
as he drew closer, and closer,
I saw that he was pushing his dying wife who was,
lying in a dressing gown under the covers,
in the Queen-Sized Bed.
He pushed carefully trying not to shake the bed,
excessively.
His wife's head was supported by four pillows,
she had wispy strings of silver white hair.
She was dying.
Several I.V. Bottles dangled off a hook,
And dripped painkillers into her arm.
She was awake but barely conscious,
I wondered where they were going,
but in my heart, I knew...
privacy for an hour,
I came back as the sun was setting.
I found them together sitting on the bed,
Looking over the ocean.
The old man was holding his dying wife,
in his arms… stroking her silver hair under the sparkling,
southern cross.
They were sharing her last sunset as,
the dying embers of a fiery sun faded into the ocean.
Night fell and I walked home alone,
I had witnessed love real love,
something I had never experienced,
something I had never known.
If you’re near Cowell and you look hard enough,
You may just find the queen-size bed,
with a tattered mattress and exposed springs,
quietly rusting away outside a decrepit ruin of a barn.
Take a closer look at the legs and you will find four rusting,
gurney wheels.
and if you approach quietly on a moonlit night,
you will hear soft sobbing in the whistling wind,
as it dreams of that dying sunset,
under the southern cross...
and the milky way lights up the sky,
soaring into the heavens
as the angels sing.
Categories:
rattled, death, for her, loss,
Form:
Free verse
(For Dad ... I love you and miss you, and time doesn't help)
~
Of all the loved ones chosen for that final task that saints abhor,
I wouldn't head your list, I'm sure -
your eyes, then staring, empty ...
I sat beside your deathbed, lone, and counted each dry, rattled moan,
the hours ached for seeds, unsown -
with your eyes staring, empty ...
Why was I chosen for this fate that put your end upon my plate?
a blessing, dear, but FAR too late -
now that your eyes stare, empty ...
No more, your prince of ill demands I walked you God-ward, hand-in-hand,
there are no footprints in the sand -
just eyes still staring, empty ...
Soft lullabies, I sang you, tender, meant to quell a well-earned bender,
closeness stamped "Return To Sender" -
dear eyes just staring, empty ...
You squeezed my hand, then let it go, let one last breath out, long and slow,
though you had left us LONG ago -
with your eyes staring, empty ...
At night, I lay me down to sleep and pray the nightmares never creep,
still, what I find there, dark and deep -
are eyes still staring, empty ...
Your sparkling eyes ... now empty.
Categories:
rattled, death, father son, grief,
Form:
Rhyme
The sandman will take pause and say a prayer
Then reach in to his special bag of sand
And with a sweeping motion of his hand
Bright glitter colored stardust fills the air
It falls to bring a dream beyond compare
Where castles in the sky are gold and grand
A momentary glimpse of "Beulah Land"
As we envision life beyond death's stare
And with that thought we'll take a rattled breath
The last tear of this life will find release
We'll see our shooting star, a passing flash
Exhale our soul and welcome life in death
Then build our castles on white clouds of peace
The sandman will sweep up our sparkling ash
by Daniel Turner
Categories:
rattled, death, dream, poetry,
Form:
Italian Sonnet
It'd been one of the most bizarre days; downright crazy
so I had a martini, maybe four, so things got kinda hazy
I fumbled in my wallet so I could pay my pricey bar tab
Friends thought I had too many, so they put me in a cab
I stumbled up the steps. It seems walking was a chore
Couldn't find my key, so I tried beating down the door
Her screeches of "Where the bloody hell have ya been?"
Pounded in my head, making me sorry that I'd come in.
She hissed, then off to the kitchen she foolishly prattled
With horrendous noises, pots and pans were being rattled
My head was sorely throbbing so I begged her to be quiet
She screamed, "Don't yell at me! Blame your liquid diet!"
She banged a bowl of something down on the table cloth.
I weaved my way to a chair as my mouth began to froth
Put my head in my hands when the room started spinning
Caught a glimpse of that evil woman. Yeah, she was grinning
A mound of muck she'd plunked down right in front of me
looked like it should still be swimming in the salty sea
It smelled vile and disgusting... nauseatingly atrocious
I gagged and turned away, that's when Liz became ferocious
I couldn't move an inch to find my way back to the couch
I was a brick, held by mortar. My wife was being a grouch
but I couldn't find the strength to flee. I felt far too dizzy
My turn to shout, "Can you just stop your naggin', Lizzie?"
I didn't mean to say it, and my words came out so slurred
My vision was fuzzy. Everything was clouded and blurred
Something was staring up at me while awful music played
That's when I saw green heads and grew appallingly afraid
Whether fantasy or reality, frogs had escaped from a pond
These were fugly creatures. From evil they'd been spawned
I was being serenaded by a quartet of deep croaking voices
So suffers the drunken man while his heartless wife rejoices
I crawled to bed when I couldn't take the harmony any more
Lizzie punched me and said, "Wake up if you're gonna snore."
I tripped down the stairs, woke the dog and made him bark
Left the wife and found a bench to sleep it off in the park
Categories:
rattled, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
Out walking on the beach alone,
Waves breaking with a somber tone.
I was only a stumble
From cracking up and crashing down.
Old driftwood and a weathered shell;
Lone inmate in a private hell.
I'd been telling myself
I should take my business out of town.
Bad karma plucked a sour string.
No music, just the same damn thing.
I'd been singin’ the blues
With a heavy feeling in my gut.
Faith, charity, but not much hope;
All tangled in the hangin’ rope.
You can't open a window
If someone's gone and nailed it shut.
Just then she came and took my hand,
Said, "Got a minute, sailor man."
Her assertive approach
Caught me unprepared and way off guard.
She rattled me with sunset eyes,
Full frontal, wearing no disguise,
Her horizon aflame
With a sexy charm that hit me hard.
She teased me with her silhouette.
I smiled and said, "I'll see your bet."
It was getting on dark,
So I took the hint and got undressed.
I'm sure we musta broke some law.
No telling what the seagulls saw.
If they’d called the police
We'd be lucky to avoid arrest.
Some risks aren't really worth the chance.
Sometimes it doesn't pay to dance,
But the answer that night
Was to call her on a double dare.
I'll gamble, though I never bluff.
She's coy, but then I dig that stuff.
It's enough to get lucky
When you wager on a winning pair.
Categories:
rattled, allegory, women,
Form:
Lyric
Jesus you are my saving grace
My coach preparing me for life’s race
My refuge through life’s raging storm
Mending all that is tattered and torn
You are my forever guiding light
When my way grows dark as the night
My anchor in truth, who keeps me grounded
Through trials and tribulations I am surrounded
You are contentment of all my days
Among a world that has lost its way
My joy where everlasting peace abides
In times of trouble, my shelter my fear abides
You are the constant and steady beat of my heart
My shield from the enemy’s fiery darts
You are the melody my spirit sings
Praise and worship to you I bring
You are my strength when I become weak
The answer to the question that I seek
The solid rock on which I stand
Protected from life’s sinking sands
You are the wisdom that prepares my mind
My eyes can see that once was blind
My redeemer who ransomed my soul
Freed from the chains of Satan’s control
You are my courage to face the battle
In victory you leave my enemies rattled
My constant hope in days of doubt
In distress, an escape, my way out
You are my comforter collecting my tears
Relieving my mind of constant fear
Living water to my dying soul
A friend forever while ages roll
You are my intercessor to God carrying my pleas
You are all that I will ever need
In your name, I do pray
Jesus you are more to me than words can say
You found me and loved me first
Even at my very worst
Your death, my salvation, I can never repay
Through my failures you choose to stay
On the cross my eternal home was gained
Because your love for me was greater than your pain
With all that is within me, I shout your praise
Jesus, you are and always will be, my Amazing Grace
Categories:
rattled, christian, faith, god, inspirational,
Form:
Rhyme
The old wood framed home stood stark and abandoned, a
shell of herself, where now new homes were standing..
Rotted roped windows wept with the rains and rattled and
trembled with each passing train..
The once solid foundation now unmoored by silt causing the
aged house to lean, a precarious tilt..
Yet inside her ancient bones still chiseled and grand with her
high molded ceilings and oak floor plans.
For over a hundred years she was home, haven, shelter, thru
cold winter storms and hot summer swelters.
Many years had passed and her families moved on.
She stands out of place where she once so belonged.
Categories:
rattled, age, change, time,
Form:
Rhyme
“Over there,” yelled the Helmsman
“On the Starboard side.”
Though when I looked from left to right
Nothing caught my eye
“Over there,” he yelled again
“On the starboard side.”
And again as I looked from left to right
Nothing caught my eye
But I knew when I saw her
For she was not water nor was she beast
That she had come upon us
To rest us all in peace
Her fingers rattled the rigging
As all hands fought to stow the cloth
The helmsman lashed himself to the wheel
We faced the worst of her wrath
Then she brought the main-mast down
The crow’s nest crashed upon the deck
Fear eclipsed all conscious thought
For we floated upon a wreck
Our lives so fully in the hands
Of nature’s primeval fury
We prayed to our mystical gods
For their heavenly mercy
Lo she ignored our desperate pleas
As she drove us beneath the waves
Relaxed and confident she left us
To our watery graves
Then the helmsman free from his shackles
Pulled us with all his might
Dragged us by our sodden collars
Toward the watery moonlight
The helmsman of defiant strength
Pulled us with all his might
Through our aquatic graves
To freedom’s shining moonlight
Categories:
rattled, storm,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
Let me tell you a story from the old wild-west;
Of a terrible lawman with a star on his vest.
His title was “Ranger”; not bound to a town
He studied the outlaws then hunted them down.
One long hot summer; played like a pawn
He’d failed to take down the man called “Big John”.
He was tired and thirsty, his mood like black jet
As he rode into Dodge his sights were still set
On Big John!
He stabled his horse, and checked out the saloon
‘cause he’d heard the big man liked to drink there at noon.
Through the wide swinging doors, he strolled to the back
His face as long as a wagon-wheel track.
The scowl on his face told me this man was risky,
But I was the bar keep, and he needed whiskey.
So I poured him a double in a clean mason jar
And slid it down deftly to the end of the bar.
He quaffed it and gave me a tip of his hat.
I thought it was over, except for the fact
That his mood was still dark, like rain in a flood,
I knew in my gut there was bound to be blood.
There in the corner; his back to the wall,
He waited with patience; said nothing at all.
Just stared at the space ‘bove the wide swingin’ doors,
His hands at his sides, drooping down toward the floor.
It was quarter past noon when the room darkened some,
Big John in the doorway; blocking the sun.
Two shots rang out from the man in the vest.
Two blood stains emerged on the big fella’s chest.
Big John just stood there; there in the door,
Then the glasses all rattled as John hit the floor.
Dry-gultched, like a fox at a watering hole
Big John was finished; so, likely his soul!
The old wanted poster said “Dead or Alive”.
They just didn’t care how Big John arrived!
The Ranger just smiled and sighed, “One more round!”
Then he gathered his pony and rode out of town.
May 9, 2017
Categories:
rattled,
Form:
Metrical Tale
Ta'likra
was a most stubborn slave
He loved to rattle the chain
It was a sound of pure defiance
that echoed across the lush plantation terrain
Son of Antuk
had a pygmy burning bush spirit
He seethed silently
as the lashes dug deep into his back
The masters hoped the other slaves
would see this bloody spectacle and fear it,
thwarting any thoughts of a rebellious attack
He was beloved by the other slaves,
he had a will of burnished steel
He had a big heart, noble and brave,
his presence strengthened the weak and the ill
The European rulers had a troublesome dilemma:
If they killed Ta'likra, they would make him a martyr;
causing him to live still past his death,
stirring up angry African chants of unrest
And if they let him live,
he would continue to challenge their authority
Thus making it harder to rule over
the other slaves with complete fear and impunity
They struck a balance as to what they would do,
they would whip him daily, give him meager rations
Eventually break his spirit down to ashes
But that didn't work against this
four-foot-two mountain of a man
He was Pygmy,
he was a dark bush man
He was pure African,
borne upon the hot desert sand
He didn't fear death,
he didn't fear pain
Thrice bitten by the deadly viper,
he loved to rattle the chain
The masters, unable to break his spirit,
were perplexed and at wits end
When a wizened one with gnarled raised hand,
offered up a most enlightened plan
This old, white medicine man
appealed to Ta'likra in a peach grove
He said, where would the souls of the ancestors go,
if the tree of life isn't allowed to flourish and grow
The tender buds of the future will wither away,
and the great roots of your ancestors will die here today
Let us gather up the ancient leaves, my warrior friend,
and build a fire of peace
Let us pay homage to the holy ancient ones
with gifts of love and largesse
For as the stars will not always remain in the sky to stay,
the chains of slavery will be removed from your people one day
Ta'likra, the Pygmy prince,
peered into the blue eyes of the old man,
and thought deep on his sage sayings
Then he arose in dignified grace
and silently walked away
He never once rattled his chain again,
he kept his untamed rage locked in the cage within
Categories:
rattled, america, anger, black african
Form:
Epic
Haiku one of my first poems on soup
rattlesnake
Georgia rattlesnake
venomous dangerous foe
hidden in garden
A Rattlesnake In Georgia
Metamorph Revision
To the herb garden meandered
Some squash needed picking
Gloved hands and a six inch long blade
No thoughts of snake sticking
Rockie our Rat Terrier pet
Jumped 'pon retainer wall
Then back down as fast as lightning
The snake did forward crawl
Putting some herbs in the basket.
Out of corner of eye
Something in a flash moved
'Twas a snake going by
Looked like a rat snake mixed in straw
"Twas a Copperhead then
Sticking him with my blade so hard
He crawled off, coiled just when
I thought I had him conquered_ he
Rattled, raised up, fangs showed
Backing off out of reach, gave thought
When he dropped, my blade goad
He crawled off injured; Hope he died
I didn't want him to strike
At unprepared family member
Enemy still dislike
Inspired by:
Debbie Guzzi
Contest: Metamorph
The form is similar to Quatrain but not exactly.
It is a form used by Emily Dickinson in many of her poems.
It is a type of Poulter's measure.
It is 8,6,8,6 with the six rhyming.
Verse is a stanza of a poem so these are stanzas or I can change it to Quatrain..
Categories:
rattled, family, fear, life, nature,
Form:
Verse
I'm the caretaker of a lonely lighthouse
On the edge of a small New England town
Not much here has ever happened
That is until Stephen came around
For weeks now I've been haunted
By the ghost of Stephen King
I'm quite sure that he is still alive
Which makes this very strange indeed
At first he wasn't doing much
Rattled chains, walked through walls like a normal ghost
Then Stephen discovered the roaming light
That I shine up and down the coast
Now his favorite pastime every night
Until the break of dawn
Is to make shadow puppets in the light
I don't have the nerve to tell his ghost it's wrong
Yes, Stephen loves his shadow puppets
On the jagged rocks below displayed
Butterflies and puppy dogs
Is Stephen's ghost's forte
But all the puppy dogs have monster heads
And the butterflies giant bat wings
I guess you just can't help yourself
When your the ghost of Stephen King
This light house is no longer lonely
Since Stephen Kings ghost did arrive
I'm still not sure how he does it
Since Stephen King is still alive
Categories:
rattled, humor, scary,
Form:
Rhyme
Back rubs are given, pills have been handed out,
Patients settled, some won’t sleep, I have no doubt,
Fear paralyzing their being when darkness falls,
If they close their eyes, will night terrors sprout.
Night lights shed a little peace over their bed,
The medication eases the pain or so they’ve said,
Someone to sit by their side would ease the fear,
They worry, wanting to awake, not ending up dead.
For they know that death will come, it’s not far off,
They work to breathe, chest heavy, the rattled cough,
Sunlight drifts in the window, another day, more life,
Eyes slowly open, blackness gone, at death they scoff.
Written September 23, 2012
For Craig Cornish’s contest
“Night-Dark-Black-Happy-Sad”
Categories:
rattled, death, fear, urdu, death,
Form:
Rubaiyat
There are no more tests
Like Daniel, I stand with the rest
Though like Stephen I may be stoned
But I bet you I can't be cloned
But I am not about choke
Just because I have taken a toke
Now you know that was joke
As I blow out this puff of smoke
Moses was the one who said it best
As the words rattled from his chest
Then there was the one with the moral code
You know the patient one they called job
You can’t forget about Jonah and the whale
And his story is similar to my tale
Cause I am that guy with the pail
You know, the monotone angel who was in hell
Now, I am here to let you all out of jail
A place where I no longer dwell
And here is my story I tell
Pour, pour, pouring…dark fire will not avail
Categories:
rattled, love, peace,
Form:
Personification
Each book in my library must be read, each one, each and every one,
vagrant, homeless papers must find a forever home, I must
edit, amend, revise, reword and condense a poem-
Rattled, I search for my keys, oh collywobbles!
Yearning for tranquility instead of this constant dither and tizzy, and
daunting days of jitters, willies, shivers and heebie-jeebies,
and my heart in a knot of anxiety!
Yes, I have days of cliffhanging moments!
Inside my soul, I just want to dilly-dally,
silent, I want to make each day count, but
apprehension and anticipation always keep me on tenderhooks.
Consternation, worry and anxiety, creep, creeping, and
like an unsettled butterfly, I flutter befuddled.
Inside my soul, I just want to lollygag!
Fearful, I face each new day undaunted, taking
first one step, then another and on and on and on . . .
hoping my distress is unseen and undetected.
And I step off the cliff that is my life each morning, oh
no one can escape some anxious days, of
go here, go there, get this and get that, oh collywobbles!
Edit, amend, revise, reword, and condense a poem, but really,
really I love my crazy, hectic, unpredictable, anxious life!
_______________________
February 24, 2017
Poetry/Acrostic/Everyday is a Cliffhanger
Copyright Protected, ID 17- 879-893-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Categories:
rattled, anxiety,
Form:
Acrostic