Best Roils Poems
Turmoil
God awful gut wrenching
nightmare riding
turmoil.
Throat clenching
acid rising murder of crows,
False importance on the trivial grows.
A gag reflex of learned fear
turmoil roils hurricane high
calms counterweight on the psychic scale.
Taste the bitter bile of discontent.
Far fetching fowl…
fouling the content
eating the brash bits of joy
Turmoil.
The celestial royal purple lake
of my wandering soul's freedom,
in a luminous rowboat of dreams,
as the filled moon's fairest face
reflects the sun's benevolence.
As I dip the oars in stars,
slowly rowing, pondering,
on to where God wants me,
to commune with His
messenger angels,
as I dip the oars in stars.
A covenant with Him,
to pray for humanity-
as it roils on the earth,
and a healing of earth's nature,
O God I weep,
fleeting are the universe's
hours of passage,
yet, prayers for hope's
continuing, for peace,
as I dip the oars in stars. ~
How grand it is when blue sky meets the sea,
may sky and sand and water ever be,
reflected in this topsy-turvy lea.
Oh, let the stars fall down, and over we.
Will you meet me where the foam froths and roils,
where waves pound upon glistening soil,
and seagull's squawk in mismatched harmony;
oh, let the stars fall down, and over we.
Sea tossed, the dross shines upon the strand.
Gemstones are born, where the sky meets the land.
meet me down by the rush of lulling sea;
oh, let the stars fall down, and over we.
Here we will lie for all eternity,
with life and death, and our love of the sea.
Scenic Point by Robert Butler
GYPSY TANGO
The Gypsy Tango roils his Portuguese blood
Fires of passion leap into his brown eyes.
He asks, pulling at his collar, knees in bend,
“What were you listening to…”
Ah...caught him in vulnerable freeze.
A kaleidoscopic spin of a voluptuous skirt,
Hypnotic swirl of hair and beads -
The music stoked by a cyclonic pulse.
I reel in my most prized faithful husband.
The years keep him coming back
To the same fishing spot -
This is no sordid affair...
It is the cave of wonders.
May we never escape its chase
He’s got the hots for his Hungarian bride.
A szerelem egyszeruen csak szerelem. Ez egy leírhatatlan érzés.*
7/19/2019
*Love is just love. It can never be explained.
See the gardener’s open hand bring seed to soil,
into the creases beginnings, love, and endings fill.
Each of us bloom in the doing of this most holy toil,
see the gardener’s open hand.
On dark days when shadows bring tearful regret,
let shades of green jade and emerald play foil,
show the hues of blue, in morning glory and violets,
see the gardener’s open hand.
Hear the subtle song of the wood-bee working, coil
about your senses as, each to each, some pollen gets?
Man: the breeze, the sun, the seed, the rain, life roils,
see the gardener’s open hand.
First Published in Mused: Bella on Line 2015
War roars above
~ a hemisphere
gone coal black,
blasted with skin
~ned ash, soot
~scores the sky
and rubble roils; blood can not travel on the
wind. Lines cross, posts cross, peace cru~
cified. Food thought, wry humor displayed
in fields of grain from sea to sea. Commun~
nication cut-off
deafened by the
omnipresent gale.
Fenced in safety
a jest. The gold~
en fuel, isolation
will not save us.
War roars above
~ a hemisphere
gone coal black
blasted with skin
~ned ash, soot
scores the sky
and rubble roils
Blood can not
travel the wind.
An Ekphastic written in the Shape Form
After: Gray and Gold by John Rogers Cox, 1943.
The times have fallen hard now, to scenes played on 'unmade' roads
Without my volition, and despite intentions, goals;
Indifference took precedence; a lust of life was part,
The key to understanding then, as now,Was placed a piece apart;
Carousing life held quietude.?
Whilst roles to play stood by, as unready future partner,
For when times would come rushing, all arrived..!
I've striven with understanding, and carried in part its lode,
Found 'light years' were really heavy... .’
Did some things that I was shown.
Now still I face an uncertain future, as a world in conflict roils,
Self-interest & self-importance, still… the poison in its ‘coils.’
I have observed full many persons from cooks, to magistrates...
Who have introduced first their credentials,
The institutions they'd attended, then put on the desk their brass name plate.
No, the magistrates, not the cooks..!
I’ve seen it happen thus, and I see it with world leaders, and the media making fuss..!
The Olympic Torch was taken to heaven; yes they showed it on TV..'
I wondered at the gestures value, for Gods sun gives all the light we need?
Still I 'spose he must have seen it, and all the 'special peoples' smiles,
WOW look at what mankind’s achieved yet still raw conflict boils..!
Perhaps a little more understanding..? And a lot more less of 'ME'
Coupled with acceptance of human mortality, and His death upon the tree..!
©Joe Maverick 30-11-2013
Rosy rains still keep dapping on me, rippling into me, trickling in me
My sentiment and sentimentality set into sediment like descending haze
Settled, stagnated, then crystalized into concrete and constant gaze
Gaze from adrift to assured, from timid to fuss-free
Where her long-winded Hebe falls upon my sensuous serendipity
My short-winded romance catches upon her contagious catholicity
Through and o'er million-mile-long cascade of rains
Romance-woven, rose-waved, rushing curtain after curtain
My gaze meets the Grace of Venus' veins
Venus' veins from blear to clear, from confused to certain
Splicing and brightening each inspiring spot
Along each dimensionality of the whole universe
So perfectly the vast vivacity fits into my sensorial slot
That my everything rhymes and roils with its magnificent verse
Far and wide anacampserote describes
Far and wide rosy tides arise
From the perigee of my sights to the aphelion of her skies
From the margin of my mind to the adytum of her vibes
Harking back to earlier path strewn with romances of royal grith
Hearkening forward to future favors featuring our millennial myth
Reachable osculation, ne'er has remote oneirism so uncannily overlapped
Raying reality, ne'er has rainy romance so snugly wrapped.
This jade river roils
into the heartbeat of your weather beaten canyon
wetting the wonderment of a restless rebel
searching for a lost song
yet to be sung,
an ancient wisdom winds through
the young temperature
of your rain forged temple
perfume of broken sandstone
stirs secrets unstolen by Time
while a graveyard of unbroken yet dormant trees
yields an invisible fruit of forgotten fates
a knowledge quiet on the edge of eternity,
yes, there are bones here,
bones that speak of the stars...
J.A.B. 2021
I savor a hearty repast of meat and smashed pertaters,
And a salad liberally laced with fresh termaters,
But spare me anything slathered with anchovy paste!
('Tis just a matter of my discriminating taste!)
'Tis a gastronomic delight dining on Chinese cuisine,
But my appetite is dulled by things best left unseen,
Such as bird's nest soup and octopus when it is faced!
('Tis just a matter of my discriminating taste!)
How delectable are hams, bacon and sausages to eat,
But my stomach roils upon seeing a pigs pickled feet,
Or souse containing stuff that should be consigned to waste!
('Tis just a matter of my discriminating taste!)
Moroccan folks are wizards at brewing their tea,
But cous-cous with glazed sheep's eyes staring at me,
Is more than I care for when before me it is placed!
('Tis just a matter of my discriminating taste!)
I'm a glutton for cookies, puddings, pies and cakes,
But I'm repelled by the flesh of 'gators and rattlesnakes!
As can be seen, ordinary vittles I have embraced!
('Tis just a matter of my discriminating taste!)
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
A snow bound silence descends now
upon my hallowed home,
the traffic's gone, the streets unplowed
and I'm engrossed in tomes.
A ribald tale of myst'ry roils
the knights have charged the breech
the bard sings tall tales of old
of maiden's love's unleashed.
The pendants mark the battles course
as Saxons face the Celts
unarmored men fought Saxon's, Norse
in naught but paint and pelts.
And so it was, and so it is
as men live or die for a kiss.
Fast as an atomic banshee, he roils sacred halls
of White House clutches levers with brass balls
American powers remain unrestrained when he calls
Armada to exorcise imagine aery dragons,
he inarticulately falls
non-communicative, faux eruditely generative,
and heartily galls
toward this introspective kickstarter male,
and most likely others he appalls.
-------------------------------------------------
My inner guru hankers to share voice
amidst increasing din
and clamors in reaction to insidious machinations fin
hushed via Machiavellian offal prince,
who unleashes clout with Cheshire grin
unconcerned about population, chaste,
from their wells Fargo wing.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Most every citizen banker, and kin
stared down vis a vis fierce-some intimations
catapult escalating, spin
laughing at rigged voting outlook
gratefully inflicts populace with monstrous win
doomsday soldiers -
art of the deal book not writ by said urchin.
-------------------------------------------------
Though regularly affiliated with top notch
kudos to virtual soapbox platform
re: all poetry to express Bing averse
toward ill feted Barron settlement
of United States government tossed like scotch
on thar hocks, thus an uneasy angst
also invisibly grabs me by the crotch
cuz das Trump power monger,
I fear rubric of democracy, he will botch!
-------------------------------------------------
This poem alternately titled -
harbinger of political debacle wolf find antipode
where toxic brew at crack of 12 a.m.
January 20th 2017 doth bode
doctored pregnant swollen tidal anarchistic military toad
deeds sheepishly shape into battalions
in tandem - fraternal order of police erode
Civilian protesters unite with ordinary citizen bankers
crowdsource sing metallic ca clash to goad
"Hear your fate, O high-dwellers of the airy, wide open
Spaces and fertile plain, your rugged and enclosed
Lands, Sparta, untouched by that of hard-grinding war".
Thus, the fraught Oracle of Delphi had so spoken.
Now only I alone am left to ponder on all that was before...
And, which, wrongly, ignorant peoples should all suppose.
But Sparta should lose in victory -- whilst noble Athens
Would become more wondrous than any could ever
Have imagined! And although I am of Sparta...I think of her
As home. For I have hunted in the sprawling woodlands
Of Phelloe, dallied with the plodding tortoise in coy Arcadia;
Alalcomenae's giant oaks offering shelter from inclement weather.
I gave up tears when listening to ancient, groaning pines
On the sandy coast of Elis, marveled at white Blackbirds
In Cyllene, ate the dates of Aulis, tasted olive oils
From Tithorea; when sat at the table of the Gods dined
Upon wild strawberries from Helicon! The flashing roils
Of Saronic dolphins. The Six Caverns that none dares disturb.
Alas, in my distress I am more troubled than Menelaus;
And have known a hundred-fold more greater a jealous pride...
All his murderous heartaches. Same, sudden, gut-wrenching blow
At first encounter; this which serves no man any good cause...
Apart to live in melancholy. Skin as perfect as untouched snow.
A wilful deceit that can hide behind an unemotive woman's eyes.
Forgive me, Pausanias -- there is beautiful poetry in your words my friend!!
And the Wise man said to himself,
“all that is broken must be renewed”
and so it arises, slides through the horizons,
slippery as a mermaid.
While the light shivers and the trees moan,
the water thrashes, thrusts,
turns and roils.
and so the sea,
the sea begins.
Soon after, the gods awake,
and taste the pulp,
the pulp of the moment
they hover, captivated by their own power, mirrored,
down below in the depths.
and so the sea,
the sea roams on.
The crevices crack,
the buildings bow down and break,
the cities tower in puzzlement.
And down on the street, we ask ourselves,
“What was it that beat? What was the rhythm that once beat so majestically and true,
but now thuds so bashfully?”
and so the tide rears its head and strains,
the waves stampede and burst,
the Wise man smiles his omniscient smile,
and the sea,
the sea wanders on.
Sad news
whence somber church bells peal n pews
packed tight to pay homage to Graham Dixon while each mourner doth rues
in due time exits the sepulchral chamber in ones or twos.
an untimely death
tis like a whip that stings naked flesh
unimaginable by this papa
of two lovely teenage daughters fresh
into throes of young adulthood,
where world (wide web) at fingertips and skein of community. family
and illustrious lower merion
principled staff wrought mental health network
that purportedly serves as a mesh...
how and/or why (this father doth ask himself)
did one life slip thru this intricate weave
where tell tale signs of personal turmoil
usually writ larger than any pet peeve
roils inside (attested by mailer daemons) and doth leave
family, friends and strangers dumbstruck
and stunned into sorrow per priceless youth did heave
himself against premature years of his mortality,
whereby even i (a passerby per cyberspace) grieve
the permanent loss of promises untold -
thus tis death impossible to believe?
no words can salve this pain
yet, a vicarious impact felt like daggers
into my heart they reign
while whisking soul of loved
indelibly etched against logic, this tragedy doth stain
thee entire being of me,
an anonymous transient virtual wayfarer
before the sands of time for mein kempf will wane.
damn
helplessness prevails
at how to console even a milligram
what can this soul offer - when such a brutal slam
bangs against the consciousness -
where psyche rent asunder -
with a wicked WHAM!