Best Ruefully Poems
II
And did his rash actions give this prince
Cause, in moments of troubling quietude,
To ruefully ponder on all which could not
Be rewound?
A lamentable lack of honourableness and
Uncemented fortitude
Which brought those crashing towers down;
An inevitability borne from the desperation
Of his passions...
So unlike her own desperate passions contained
Inside the hapless extremities of a single gaze.
Her obvious compliance; the tawdriness of this
Sordid contract enabling an old-fashioned
Demand for dutiful obedience...but still betrayed
By a resigned sort of hopelessness. The futility of a
Guilt; his schoolboy-pawing of the tensioned strap;
Your revulsion; his constant bolstering...the
Belittling with that inane, maddening, witless chat.
Categories:
ruefully, conflict,
Form:
Rhyme
Whenever my days seem long,
And all my tasks turn out wrong,
And I wish the things I had not said
And feels like turning over and play dead...
Ha, I sit down ruefully and I write.
When someone somewhere gets hurt,
When a lively flower bites the dust,
When somewhere someone's heart breaks
And sneaks into a corner and quietly aches...
Oh, I sit down woefully and I write.
When someone smiles and shares his joy,
And takes some time out of his life to enjoy,
When he takes the right road with the end in sight
And takes it with true faith and grateful delight...
Yea, I sit down joyfully and I write.
Whenever someone dares to dream,
And essays to swin upstream,
When someone undertakes an arduous pilgrimage
And reaches ashore after a stormy voyage...
Yep, I sit down hopefully and I write.
On the wings of the wind I write,
On the waves of the sea I write,
I write for all to see, feel and hear,
Write I about love, hate, faith and fear...
O yea, lo! Now thou know why I write.
~03/07/2013
~Contest: Your Personal Favorite
~Sponsor: L Milton Hankins
Categories:
ruefully, faith,
Form:
Rhyme
transfixed
I stumble down
shifting halls of
my angst my
distress
a cold stale breath
stagnates and permeates
its doom
onto my essence.
beguiled
I entomb myself
in the moment
asphyxiating
flailing
clawing
grasping for
desperately
disintegrating walls.
abdicated
I capitulate to
the lair
that cold cavity
pit of dread
that
pool of tears
where my devotion
thrashes plangently.
interred
in the filth
of want
of need
of putrefying wonder
entombed within
every pore
every inch
of my desolation.
moribund
I turn to stone
my listless gaze
fixated ruefully
on the luminance
the far distant
light
where steadfast
dim hope resides.
Categories:
ruefully, angst,
Form:
Free verse
Let them say I was a simple, stubborn person,
hypersensative or insensative, a dispenser of partial justice,
a person of particular patience,
may those who encountered me in moments of bliss or blight,
in instances of charity, charisma or condemnation speak of me ruefully & beautifully,
some will surely say that I was apolitical, asexual, atypical,
an atheist an animist, a racist or an altruist, a want to be soldier,
a combatant for my liberty,
others, I suppose, that I was selfish as sin,
courteous like kindness, and furious as a frustrated phantom,
maybe they'll say I was gay or anticompliance,
I do not dare require truth, fact or fiction from my bifurcated biographers,
I only ask for their breath,
their rosey & ruse recollections of my life so stark,
let them say that they knew me,
let them say that I lived,
that I lived lovingly, lonesomely, and learnedly,
let them witness my reality like laughter in the dark -
J.A.B.
Categories:
ruefully, atheist, happiness, introspection, me,
Form:
Epitaph
Kaleidoscopic leaf cover
shimmers in the September sun
casting shadowy and sunlit
shifting pools of darkness and light
on a multicolored graveyard.
Sweet decaying scents permeate
the early autumn environs
while yellow oxeye sunflowers
sway to an autumnal zephyr
that whispers enchanting verses
softly throughout the trees.
********
Never could a master artist
paint like a poet paints with words.
What subtle hues could he employ
to capture a whispering wind,
the sweetness of decaying leaves,
inconsistencies of shadows?
These intangibles are captured
with colors of imagery
that are discriminately mixed
and depicted where the painter
ruefully and completely fails,
affixed to inanimateness
whereas, the poet pens movement
and complexion into his work.
Categories:
ruefully, on writing and words,
Form:
Verse
O how
Ruefully I pine
For mi pueblito perdido,
What I wouldn’t give,
To be young again,
And happy as I was back then.
Maria, full of peace,
Do you remember
Francis Albert softly keening
'O Amor Em Paz',
And other songs by Jobim,
Happy as you were back then?
O for
That wide-eyed
Impression of yours,
Paquita (la de Murcia),
Of your beloved Mary Lyn,
Happy as you were back then.
O how
Ruefully I pine
For mi pueblito perdido,
What I wouldn’t give,
To be young again,
And happy as I was back then.
Categories:
ruefully, happy, introspection, nostalgia, remember,
Form:
Light Verse
O how
Ruefully I pine
For a long lost
Espanya,
What I wouldn't give,
To be young again...
And happy as I was back then...
Maria,
full of peace
Do you remember
Francis Albert
Sing songs of Tom Jobim
That mournful afternoon...
Happy as you were back then...
O for
that wide-eyed
Impression of yours,
Paquita
La de Murcia
Of your beloved Marilyn...
Happy as you were back then...
O how
Ruefully I pine
For a long lost
Espanya,
What I wouldn't give,
To be young again...
And happy as I was back then...
Categories:
ruefully, happiness, happy, miss you,
Form:
Free verse
"I've lived too long," he ruefully said
As I was moving him to his last home.
"A respectable man would be dead.
My life is an obese, timed-out tome."
Truth lived in the old man's words.
He had reached the doddering age.
His brain shrunk to bird-like size--
A pity, he was once seen as a sage.
It's possible to outpace mortality's run
When body and mind come to naught.
But it isn't for us to declare "I'm done."
Valid moments may still be brought.
"What kind of moments?" he implored.
To live the full term God granted you.
It will be difficult but can't be ignored.
It's what Deity would have you do.
"With no quality of life, it's a sham.
It's senseless to endure such grief."
I opened a book picturing the Lamb,
And his face betrayed a sense of relief.
In His time you can bid this life adieu--
The ups and downs, the stress and strife.
Only then will you be thoroughly through.
Only then are you fit to turn in your life.
Categories:
ruefully, age, death,
Form:
Rhyme
‘did you hear it’, he asks me in a dream.
‘I haven’t stopped listening’, I say.
‘I wish I could hear it, just once’, he says with a pained smile.
‘the Ode to Joy moves me to tears’, I say.
‘I wish I could hear my sobs’, says Ludwig ruefully.
‘I wish I could see my tears’, I say.
He laughs a laugh he cannot hear.
I laugh too,
my eyes brimming with tears,
that only Ludwig can see
Categories:
ruefully, music, passion, song-sorrow, me,
Form:
Old barns, old folks and old wine - an unlikely trio upon which to muse,
But the analogies will become manifest as upon each I proffer my views.
Though the vicissitudes of life have taken their toll on each (that is very clear),
They tend to become more beautiful and majestic with each passing year!
Old barns once sported crimson paint and were so handsome in their day,
But o'er the years the scorching sun turned their boards to a silvery gray.
A fragile framework of hand-hewn oak and wooden pegs holds them together.
They lean precariously but despite the howling gales, they resisted raging weather!
Like old barns, old folks may wear a few scars and wrinkles here and there,
And lean upon a cane to steady themselves and wear crowns of silver hair,
But 'tis the inner beauty of their very souls that shines in all they do,
Having overcome the storms of life and the seasons they've struggled through!
Alas, old barns and old folks lose their sap as their years steadily decline,
But they gracefully mellow as they age like a splendid vintage wine!
They've both maintained their dignity through many trials untold,
But each of them must ruefully face the fact that they are growing old!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Categories:
ruefully, introspectionold, life, old,
Form:
Rhyme
New Year’s Day dawns bright and clear.
Expectant of an unused year,
We vow to break old habits.
Young or old, we all agree
Everything shall better be.
And as the new year begins,
Ruefully we count our sins,
Seeming to multiply like rabbits.
Down with the old, up with the new.
As Twenty-Twenty on the old Earth spins,
Year Twenty-Twenty One's best, I wish for you!
Categories:
ruefully, happy, new year, old,
Form:
Acrostic
I lie,
on my large comfort bed..
counting seconds,
syncing my heartbeat,
with the tick of the great white clock,
above my head.
What I'm thinking,
even I do not know..
Clouds have formed on my thoughts...
Fogs have scathed my vision,
hence, I cannot see beyond
the goose trail of old memory..
The wind whooshes in uninvited,,,
with a knowing air,
It tells me...
Oh.... I have forgotten..
I sit up.. and shake my head ruefully..
This blankness,, this emptiness..
This menace of internal unknowingness...
It eats me up...
I know something pegs at my unsettled mind.. But what??
Oh!!!! I remember now,,, only vaguely though..
The wind,, it had said something..
Something about sunshine..
Sunshine on a rainy day..
I stand up... No longer able to contain
the powerful synergy of energy..
Inside me, this surge occurs..
It jolts me, it jostles me here and there - So I walk
Up and down the entire bedroom..
I'm getting something..
Hazy formations,,, silhouettes,,, outlines....
Then, the first images appear..
Blurry at first, but..
as time passes... clearer they become..
I start to understand..
But....
Suddenly, I'm drawn back into the past...
I recall,,, I remember... The hindsight is too powerful for me..
I jump up!!!
And in a matter of seconds,,,
I find myself dancing..
This thing,
that boggled my pristine mind..
I finally know what it is..
But I do not have a name for it yet,,
It's,,, it's a tune,,, it starts with a rhythm..
A konga drum,,,, chimes,, gongs...
Then,,, larger, thicker, hide-drums...
Then... A beat,, syncopated and enthralling..
It's fast... Strong,,, daring...
Then...
Dancing steps..
Dancing...
A voice, raised from a variegated population...
Heart,, beating in sync..
I discern,,,,
Yes...
Sunshine on a rainy day..
Hmm...
My mind is full.. It's near breakpoint..
I am now eager to name this anonymous sensation..
I think...
I think...
Yes...
The name falls to my small ears....
It startles me... But,,, I receive it
with a heart full of dire hope..
I breathe a sigh and let the name out...
"Yuletide", I say..
And as I pant, recovering from the exhilaration,,,
A figure, in red and white
crosses my window...
Merry Christmas....
Categories:
ruefully, christmas, happy,
Form:
Free verse
Enchanted by skylarks I surrender my time.
Day's sun unabated riveted me to broiling heat,
I stew in my skin. Every toxic thought
Pollutes my surface as is intended,
But corrodes and cankers their patron's heart.
The statue has a skin change too: skylark rest,
Merely superficial - smiles surfacing for air,
For culture goes deeper than color here.
Under the statue like a sheltering tree
I stand awed at my eroding liberty.
I count the red pennies, and watch the moods
Of racuos skylarks and people interchanging.
Standing diminished of labor's properties
And even the honesty of facade history,
I am watching skylarks sky diving for bread.
They all have long black wings
And they cry awfully; some say no one sings
Again, that rap is a longing to tell our own story.
I am listening neither rhythm nor art here
But a purposeful cry dense with bitterness.
The pennies I am counting fall, and do not roll.
Birds towering above me, on a sun scarred wall
Survey us ruefully as apart we fall:
Our ideas and paradigms like rubble and litter
The skylarks beyond our vision's fetter
Cry against the unexposed anger, the facade
That marked us polite as we crumble
Like old iron raw in salt mist and nitride air.
Under the statue of liberty the crowd mingles thoughts
In silence. The statue's massive, iron breast
Stilled, as the shrieking skylarks dive and digest
Crumbs of cold, callous film of charity
That goes easily to animals and birds, forsaking
The validity of man. Birds foment in the sky,
Skylarks still crying as the boats go pass.
A shadow with a fleeting cloud shifts and I see
The statue turns green, livid green, green as grass.
Categories:
ruefully, social, longing, cry, sun,
Form:
Free verse
Wistfully watching by water's edge,
Shivering and shaking from cold,
I watched with weariness for a sign
Of small skiff without a hold.
Tearfully turning to walk away,
Knowing night wouldn't bring him home,
Ruefully railing at his resolve
To sail on the sudsy foam.
When wild winds wailed and rains rushed down,
Why would he willingly go,
Denying the danger of willful waves,
When well aware that I loved him so?
Morning mists found me making my way
To a single spot by the sea,
Longingly looking for sailor boy,
Hopefully, hurrying back to me.
I see a blimp, No, its my boy's boat,
Blissfully bringing him back
To the side of she who is wondering,
Whether to give him a kiss or a whack.
Written 3/25/19
Title chosen:r "By The Water's Edge
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Categories:
ruefully, weather, wind,
Form:
Alliteration
Lonely lyricist lyrics long lasting in lobe.
Pondering while prone. Poor poets prose probe.
Interrupting inception, interactions inflection,
slumber's conception. Somnolence secession.
Many mornings mulling. Careworn. No capableness culling.
Designs dejected day. Dragging dim, dexterity dulling.
Greatest gift grievously giving great grief.
There are those thoughts that rob like a thief.
Writing words woefully. Waxing, waning wit.
Rhyming rhymes ruefully. Alliteration reluctantly writ.
-Angel Fatale-
Categories:
ruefully, fun, me, night, sleep,
Form:
Alliteration