Best Rope Poems
Let go of the rope my tethered friend
Your holding on to a futile end.
For if you fall what’s the consequence?
But if never tried life won’t make sense.
And if you try and don’t succeed
You just may find its all you need.
See God is in the nothingness
Where pain resides along with bliss.
Its up to us to find the strength
And see what all this life is meant.
So take a fall, get up again
And leave that world of bogeymen.
Under cold lights, dark air and the still,
All is quiet, nothing spoken no sound,
Hangs the softest of rope from the hardest of beams,
Hanging in a straight sort of proud,
Reaching right down to the black and white rose,
The rose standing ready for more,
To raise her like a dancer in the moment of yield,
And display like a trophy of war,
And her hands are bound tight, legs are tied back,
Shoulder, head and hips cannot moan,
And her hair is secured out of the way,
She hangs defenceless and naked and owned,
She lives for the love of these cold vivid nights,
Obeys what the rope will demand,
She relishes the play of losing control,
When she submits to her dominant man.
He never runs out of patience
gives us as much rope as we need
We can use it to climb our way up to Him
or hang ourselves with our misdeeds
Empty and sad and twisted
Smiling and nice, patient
Hanging on a rope
I'm he and she, and condemned
And I'm locked, again the gap's deepened
Fake desires
Carved in plastic
So sick of it
Dig it into my skin
Wanna bleed my smiles off
Embrace me, backstab me
Until I can breathe no more
Under the shell, my heart is choking
Save it from life and death
Crush all the worthless rest
On an island in the storm
Like wounded angels, wings crippled
Blood and cold and thunder
Your hands around me, fire
Slowly dying together
Are you here?
Wrapped in plastic
Sick of it
So I'm smiling and nice, patient
Hanging on a rope
A shining light where no one can see,
A breath of fresh air where no one can breathe,
A glimmer of hope in a place filled with doubt,
A belief you can cope until you get out,
A whisper of sanity when you're beginning to sway,
A touch of humanity when it's slipping away,
A helping hand when you need it the most,
A release from the existence where you feel like a ghost,
Giving you life when you feel likes it gone,
Giving you fight and the will to go on ,
A place you can turn to when you're completely lost,
A face that will always be there for you, no matter the cost.
I pictured her up there on the Moon
Sitting forlornly in my lonely lagoon
She was draped in a cloak of alabaster
Glistening in starlight ne'er to outlast her
Dancing midst an asteroid shower
Her silhouette did sparkle and tower
High above me in my loveless bower
Drowning in daiquiries reflections dour
So far off, she -- dared I give up hope ...
Yet nearby, my imagination of rope
Whereby I reeled her in from her escape to the Moon
~ To kiss her madly, lips wild from absence hewn
Now you might think?
The titles a joke...
Yet if you deal in
Marijuhana
I hear there; is truth
In that old trope.'
the firmament
generously bled violet
at the moment of truth;
our love-light,
a diamond
brightly sparkling in the dark.
granted we've tasted both
the nectar and bitterness of a world
that tried to obliterate
the steadfast foundation we built,
yet, we stubbornly grasped...
onto the rope of endurance;
your knuckles white
and bleeding into mine,
w i t h s t a n d i n g
the sinews of the passing years,
where weaker threads
would snap and fray apart.
we learned
to map and anchor
the rhythm of our trepidations
deep within the soul...
it's a bond time can't erase.
we are but two travelers
on life's serpentine road.
now look where...
the lilac blossoms glow...
a promise
sealed by everything
we survived;
no longer merely a ghost-light,
or a dream,
but a ribbon tied...
around a jacaranda tree.
Pecos Bill rode herd in the vast forlorn.
His quiet Paint gobbled buttered popcorn.
A tornado, in a fit,
Came for a whirlwind visit.
“Paint, meet Curley. His back I will adorn.”
Bill grabbed his rope and threw a loop with hope
And saddled the whirlwind so Paint could lope,
Leisurely grazing along
While Bill sang a peaceful song
Though the twister used top spin, Bill could cope.
Whirly raced north swift as antelope might.
Picking up barns, tossing them left and right,
Heaving a freight train five miles.
Bill hung on with joyful smiles,
“Almost beats chasing roadrunners at night.”
Bill rode that twister into a broke nag,
That lay city curbside limp as a rag,
A sadder, but wiser storm.
Where his horse Paint, true to form,
Whinnied by the nag, wanting to play tag.
A jolly sheriff saw Bill ride in view,
He chose at least three tickets to issue:
Parking in a tow away;
No emissions valve that day;
Driving a twister with no license too.
Tale Tales 1 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Jeff Kyser
Date Written: 3/14/2022
Used Poetry Soup Syllable Counter
Stuck in this place
Full of empty space
Where the deafening silence
Awaits a verbal embrace
Just one utterance of hope
To be given the strength to cope
And I will unwind the noose
From the end of my rope
Just one ray of light
To regain my sight
To be able to be set free
From all of the anger and fright
Unable to bear
This mask of shame I now wear
To keep living this lie
That anyone will even care
But now it’s too late
My feet now fully off the crate
And my body is now free
From my minds loathing and self hate
follow /us/
follow /us/
lose your mind
leave your head /behind/
get in line
grab a hand
we're making it
you're making it /now/
Rope of the dead
Rope of sand
swallow /this/
swallow /this/
selling you soap
demanding demand
hope no hope
take no stand
…>/I said
crawl instead
said where you're led/
/now/ we're making it
you're taking it
Rope of the dead
Rope of sand
Nature holds the rope
I remember that Thursday
Crystallized in my mind
Like all the intense moments of my life
At the doctor’s with my wife
She had a heart
Why did she depart?
Why was this the end and not the start?
This was Nature over Art
We had a hope
We thought we could cope
But Nature held the rope
Around our baby who might have been born
Now our hopes are torn
She had a heart
Why did she depart?
Why was this the end and not the start?
This was Nature over Art
Was it all for the best?
In a place of eternal rest…..
Not for me!
I want my baby!
She had a heart
Why did she depart?
Why was this the end and not the start?
This was Nature over Art
They’ll say it still
It must have been God’s will
Was this a chance to kill
Another of Pharaoh’s sons?
Or was an angel sent
To massacre the innocent?
She had a heart
Why did she depart?
Why was this the end and not the start?
This was Nature over Art
A dog a horse a rat-
I know what Lear was at
With his famous lament
To grief I too give vent
-Why do they have life
And you have not
My child asleep in some ethereal cot……
She had a heart
Why did she depart?
Why was this the end and not the start?
This was Nature over Art
Those aesthetic fools
Who play with their tools
And say Art over nature
If only they knew how premature……
She had a heart
Why did she depart?
Why was this the end and not the start?
This was Nature over Art
We had a beautiful baby
But in the law of natural selection
She didn’t even win a primary election
Her heart-beat was too slow
And so she had to go……
But sill she had a heart!
So why did she depart?
Why was this the end and not the start?
This was Nature over Art
For those who go by his tentmaker’s rope
swing from one end to the other
though neither low nor too high
nothing will pass you by
if you swing not to the end of your tether
Let the tavern-keeper yell
no legs past his dream threshold
will wander before old Khayyam’s knell
accept at last your unwanted vow
no damsel will crash into cleft-stick cuckold
sweep away celibacy
take your heart in tow
Is there talk of yes who may be chosen
what role could your pain fill in bold
letters which you’d rather see in numbers broken
Come away come away from all this quarrel
Let those who wish to be weighed in gold
make much of their worth par rapport
à l’infidel
June 5, 1997
From the privately pub. coll. (rev. 2016): longhand notes (a binding of poems), Paris:1999, 115p.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016
NARRATOR
Infatuation, mysterious,
Must possess
A hello will be good, an offer
Of a drink,
And here comes the invite,
Does it lead to a casual, or
Lengthy good night
HIM
My furniture's sparse
I have a desk and books,
I hung clean tea towels on
The kitchen hooks.
I have a chair and a cat,
Time to go forward
No more chit chat.
I have wine in the fridge
And two glasses at the ready,
Must remember
To keep my hand steady,
O forgot, also have a wife,
Who I promised to be faithful to
For the rest of my double life.
But full steam ahead,
Yes, still in my pocket
I’ll put it back on
after this evening’s affair
I’m excited, I’ll avoid
Her terrified stare.
NARRATOR
This sleazy professor
Had succeeded in
His dirty deeds
Three times before,
Would he succeed again,
And leave another stain,
A memento on his floor
At his secret flat,
By the front door.
HER
Wanted to pass her first
Year at university,
Noticed he was glib,
Certainly, no novice,
But would entice
Him to promise.
Too quickly did he offer
An exemplary exam mark,
She somehow felt
Things were off track,
Saw a murderous
Glint In his eye,
He was of slight build,
She noticed his hand
And the knife and rope,
Dug her sharp nails
In his neck,
Alarmed and hurt
He hesitated, she pushed
Him and ran to the door,
Tripped and moved a
Carpet which hid blood stains,
She put her hands to her ears
To block out the screams,
Pain and fears,
In her mind,
She would make sure they find,
this evil man,
I will destroy him,
I can,
Fled down a flight of stairs
Into a busy street,
Where she mingled
With thousands of feet.
NARRATOR
Too late too late
Bad guy,
For this you will fry,
And burn in hell,
Where are the
Other bodies,
Now all you will
Spill, and
Have to tell.
I was sad and scared, in the middle of the silence, hanging on a string of blades
that is about to snap, a mirror in front of me, cries beneath me, depression was raging around me.