Best Riffling Poems
Lost sounds that call a memory to life
Loose change jingling in the pockets of children.
Baseball cards riffling in the spokes of a bicycle.
The clack-clack of roller skates over sidewalk cracks.
The clickety-click of a stick dragging along a picket fence.
The baying of backyard dogs seeking freedom.
The mournful moan of slippers sliding over a creaky floor.
The gleeful crunch of leaves under shuffling feet.
The whispered call of a windblown dove.
Voices swallowed by the silence of fresh snow.
The feeble flapping of a tree bound plastic bag.
The off key joy of Christmas carolers.
John G. Lawless
©11/9/2018
gilded hours’
intense writing,
sunrise
through twilight years.
fine riffling through strange*
fodder, of
poets,
i call friends.
mind-blown’
evident
sharpening
tool - seed-sown’ harvest.
in rows of yellow corn
we
stand TALL together.
10/6/2021
Yalto is a form invented by Edward Ibeh
Line 1-15: 3,4,2,4, 5,3,2,3, 2,3,3,5, 6,1,5 syllables
*Strange as in unknown, from a stranger
I am the breath of teardrops drying
A whisper coaxed awak’ning on rippled pond
Shadows creeping amid the grey stones
Concealing both prey and predator
A faint kiss to lift the butterflies aloft
Caress the wafting scent of budding roses
A shiver on the sweaty back of toil
A riffling of leaves still wet at dawn
A gladdened moment dancing with a feather
The dusty face of tumbleweeds at play
I am the humming voice of towering pines
That eerie whine amid the canyon stones
I am a sound e’er present in the silence
A gentle hint that life is everywhere
Autumn leaves
And on its heels
A savage wind
Hunts its offspring
Pursuing their faint scent
Riffling the golden fields
The curtain falls
A slow darkness ensues
The lights dim
In stillness
Ripples flow across the lake
A profusion of serpents swimming
Wriggling from shore to shore
Skimming stone takes four hops
causing rings to widen
Circles created by the hand of man
kerplunk, splish and splash
Dragonfly perched on a cattail
flitting its wings in the air
making shadows that look like lace
Sunlight highlights them like prisms
sparkling in the peak of twilight
A frog jumps from a driftwood stump
half submerged among duckweed
Swirls of undulating wavelets
Wind driven movements
Riffling the surface
catch my eye
expanding ripples displayed
ripples across the lake
Riffling book pages, as faces pass by
She finds answers in silence
and understands
All is well.
Sad for leaves getting out of sight
yet still
happy for the humor she found within
She smiles...
This is for all those who've wondered about that silence,
of the what-ifs...but also learned to read in between the lines...
…and so I pictured peace
…and so I pictured peace.
the lea of the meadow at sunset
meadowlarks chasing invisible bugs,
unfelt breeze riffling the tall grass,
the halo of summer warmth.
unknown to me a battle raged
within the gentle stillness,
a struggle for balance, for survival,
for continuation of the species,
the struggle to achieve stasis.
…and so I questioned peace
and its aberrant deficiencies.
its state of constant flux,
conflicts over air, water, nutrients,
its need to be delicately tended.
…and so I came to know peace
not as a utopian hammock
but as a vibrant and living meadow
that must abide the necessity of change
while respecting the changes of necessity.
a peace that dances across the riffling grass
honors both the meadowlark and bug
paid homage in the warmth of sunset gold,
a peace that knows the burden of its halo.
2/27/2015
Submitted to – Pick a Subject – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Shadow Hamilton
Radiant crystals illuminate thee, nocturnal mistress
in the wan dawn light where darkness drapes skies
Requiem aeternam bright halo, lies heaven’s portal
Winters wispy cirrus refracting ring circling
Mohawkin bespeaks of a Christmas cold moon
…December’s icy grip
Riffling ebb and tide, spawner of loon
Let rage and ruin Not be the end of me
Rubaiyat’s rhyme in thy honor
Let the waters settle, quotes of Rumi
Mercurial doomsday ruminates Mina Loy
Reigning ascendant masking impressions
Clouds envelop, shadow’s born shorn
Ravishing stillness, stormy tasks pending…
bright white ring of light
rage and ruin’s calmly still ~
not the end of me
the swans hiss
parental obligation
…warn the intruder
sunning turtles roll
drunks falling off of bar stools
…curse the kayaker
water lilies
mimicking ice cream cones
…licked by the bees
floating overhead
an Osprey admires himself
…a silent river
a pickerel darts
a frog croaks
…not just wordplay
the Geese look surprised
a cool riffling of feathers
…instinctual need
John G. Lawless
©7/29/2022
garage sale
placed junk from the past self
upon the driveway for
the passers by to come and
rummage through
riffling amongst the used goods
that are no longer wanted by the new self
spring cleaning of the garage of the subconscious
have begun
Now the chattering guns have ceased
Now the battlefields are bared
Now we walk where history teased
The convictions of those who stared
I climb the hill to see again
The land that yields its children who toil
For fruit where no father remain;
I climb to see ploughs ripping the soil
Of ignorance, snobbery, and superiority
False, where the boy swings the axe
And find stray cattle enjoying fake liberty:
The man who makes the law must use the tax.
Now the riffling pages turn no more
Nor siblings buried far from home
Now the fisherman pulls his boat to shore
And the athlete rests beneath the loam
I hear the silence of the courts and wonder
What genius does justice lack in defense
Who speaks when the voiceless in blunder
Is stripped of dignity and common sense?
Where is the advocate from Roxborough
Where the hero in the mudded trench
So much congenial goodness in that fellow
We are the bolts but he was our wrench.
The man from Roxborough was our prince
Our knight in shining armour of truth
He was the reason the world was convinced
Men have souls who crouched like brutes.
The man of Roxborough was a different kind
A class that did not stand for class
A scholar with a peasant's candor and mind
A vision clear as taintless liquid in a glass.
Roxborough man, father of the federal design,
Roxborough man, we are fifty and remember
How yielding to kindness, you made us shine
Such a big bush of fire from a small ember.
An Incomplete Love Story
Too fast the pages riffled
through dreary decades
innocence confronted
loves lusty laughter
growing faint
in darkened corridors.
Forever’s love
hesitant in a hazy
distant stare,
longing
for a return
of its longing,
passion adrift
on a fleeing vision.
An incomplete love story
written in blank pages
riffling too slowly
too sadly,
too soon,
to end.
John G. Lawless
©7/10/2018
sunflower of night
with petals washed in moonglow
dreaming of the noon
lavishly lovely
wrapped in velvety darkness
in summer's green hour
the warm breezes blow
riffling the golden petals
milky way's twinkling
I know not
the why or where
of when
of if she’s ever
coming back again
I sit
in sultry memory
passing kisses
rippling the sea
lifting from
humidity’s wet grasp
hard turgid thrill
of lovers
touching
as they pass
riffling the page-less
timeless sand
artists
of a coolly
passing hand
wispy breaths
of sunset
yets
©8/3/2018
for Summer Breeze Poetry Contest
They came last night
Sashayed and tromped through
A dreamy, semi-wakefulness
Snapshots of vague faces
Riffling pages of pageantry
Shuffling through suffering.
I failed to recognize many
Longed to linger with others
Applauded successes
Cheered failures resiliency
Reached to touch, to caress
The sinewy shadows of sorrow.
Awed by the strength and tenacity
Of life’s forever fortunes
As they danced across its ballroom floor
Huddled in its corners
Laughed at its ever-changing punchline.
A soft tear reminding me
That I had somehow been there
Shared a cosmic connection
With a distant,
Yet eternal
Moment.