Best Scuffle Poems
ON RESCUING AN INJURED PIGEON
I.
sliding screen door screeches, pigeons scatter
thump of wing against breast, shockwave breeze
more frequent than in the past, shimmering necks
soundtrack squirrel zig-zags, new-green lawn
perches like the pigeons, await my departure
II.
he appeared in the night, a tattered statue
grey as the rumbling skies, white patch on his back
must be hurt, too painful to move, teal collar
my compassion swells, how can I help?
leave him seed and water, natural healing
III.
red-toed demon leaving bird-turd on my deck
can barely walk let alone fly away, railing perch
rain or sun sits most of the day, ruffled feathers
hit his head or fallen, maybe a scuffle with a cat
wants to be part of a flock, I move closer
IV.
day three I made him a coop, Bucky by name
Becky if it’s a girl, I’m not checkin’, won’t go in
moving better, flies a little, short bursts
still prefers my perch, watch him sleep, still
hours to days, nothing seems to change
V.
the four-legged’s have found the coop and feed
I become my grandmother chasing chipmunks, futile
Bucky likes grass, hacksaw walk, double-banded
looks strong enough to fly, abandoned racer
wonder, is it psychological or could it me?
VI.
trail of seeds brought him to the edge, coop and me
as I watch him he watches me, wide ruddy eyes
huddles in a ball on one foot, freckled vest
finally, twice today he found his way to the coop
sad he can’t go home, sheltered but dispossessed.
VII.
animal rescuer Howard came with a net today
tried clumsily to catch him, lift and accelerate
over the treetops he flew, circled back to land
from the rooftop he smiled down at us, relieved
proof time heals all wounds, in rock pigeon world.
Aug 30/18
Categories:
scuffle, analogy, animal, pain,
Form:
Personification
A feeling of nearness to suffering
In our hearts
While we reduce the dimensions
Of the essence of light
With our eyes
In a local scuffle
Them
They have woven a net around us.
Bearing the pains of life
While watching the people with sullen faces
And tired thoughts
All along the years
We have heard the whistle of whips...
With well-concealed thoughts
Those
Never thought of us
And... without any mercy
Have woven a net around us.
by Uzeyir Lokman CAYCI
Traduit par Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by F.J. Bergmann, 2002
Categories:
scuffle, inspirational, love, nostalgia,
Form:
Haiku
the beauty of subtleties
there are one thousand shades of grey
each separate and distinct
across this desert month.
low gravid clouds puffed,
like the breasts of flocking doves
touch the earth transforming
to pearlescent, pale white gauze
caught in reaching branches.
steely water on the bay,
life sheltered far below,
rolls smooth as oil swells
dappled with foam.
ancient almost-dust leaves
kick up on my boot toe
as I scuffle through the wood
between beach and silver birch.
an owls lonely cry echoes
as it brushes by overhead
softsilent perhaps hunting
field mice or rabbits
November is gentle
in its iron frosts. calm, still,
as though waiting
a canvas barely sketched upon.
Categories:
scuffle, november,
Form:
Free verse
Someone once burned a pentagram outside my friend's apartment
the day after, in the courtyard, he stripped off all his clothes
silently perching on one leg by the edge of the pool
A faceless neighbor giggled "he's gone flamingo".
after a brief scuffle -they carted him off to jail...
Hesitantly I posted bail I couldn't afford
the very next day
he stood on two legs
and put in a
honest days
work.
Categories:
scuffle, crazy, friend,
Form:
Free verse
Ah, the glorious damned winter
and the inviting
gray chill in the air.
I meander
ever
so
slowly
past lawns
strewn
with a cluttered array
of pagan snow zombies -
staring blankly,
as I obliterate pint-sized
snow angels
failing to don halos
that could have easily been
brush stroked with
da Vinci's golden teardrops.
(Impoverished attention-getters)
"I suggest you peruse Alighieri’s 'Inferno' –
it may, at least, promote heat - if not hope!"
(Simpletons)
Frost continues to cloud my spectacles -
thick and relentless
eagerly permeating the glass -
endeavoring to dance
a feverish Fantasia foxtrot
upon the skins of my pupils.
My heavy feet scuffle
past these endearing peasants.
Bleak…frozen…
forgotten Mt. Everest tombstones.
Disgraced outcasts of embarrassment -
smashed against a stark white canvas
hands cut off –
sticking out their parched tongues
begging for alms.
Click and count.
Their fragile bodies so much alive
their dark, hallowed eyes
so
much
dead.
(So be it)
They stealthily huddle alone -
(Hah! I’ve created my own personal oxymoron!)
These gruesome street urchin waifs -
Dumber than a sackful of hammers and
frostier than a Maine Christmas morn,
convulsing and shivering ‘neath lampposts
without snow shoes or socks,
bawling and boo-hooing...
“Clutching weather-worn copies
of James Hilton’s 'Lost Horizon'
and littering the virgin snow
with salty saline discharge –
igniting street corner bonfires
without the faintest hint of smoke."
(Wasteful)
Ah, the glorious damned winter
and that magnificent gray chill in the air.
My arctic thighs carry me home now
where I am safe.
Where I can slam my door
and shut my eyes.
My cavernous domicile
whereas I can privately converse
with Mr. Dickens and Mr. O’Neill
and read “A Christmas Carol”
or “The Iceman Cometh” -
without a snaggle-toothed interruption...
Listen to the haunting strains of L’Inverno
from Vivaldi’s “Le Quattro Staggioni”
and cackle wildly as I burn first editions
of Clement Clark Moore’s
most infamous penning -
pour myself a
tall glass of ice cubes -
devour a heaping bowl
of vichyssoise -
scarf down a fudgcicle
and just...
turn the air conditioner
ON.
Categories:
scuffle, introspectionchristmas, snow, christmas, snow,
Form:
Free verse
(autobiographical)
I was barely eight before mother died
When Gerald was happy and not as reduced
When he was the loved son
The child with a loving home.
From aunt to aunt I learned to live
Out of the anger of dad
Out of the voice that brought fear.
Into the hand of pestilence-
My second life began-
A life of maltreatment,
A life of struggle
Elder brother disowned when he revolted
The treatment harsh and inhuman - so he bolted.
I joined the struggle
The life of scuffle
Wherein I was the marked
The recalcitrant and ragged
The delinquent in school
The tortured child of the family's few
Who outlived the deads of two aunts
Beseeched to care for him.
I am half mad, they tell me
I know I am a psychic
Half crazed child
A ricochet of mum’s death-
I have been alienated
Disillusioned by life, ill-fated
Tortured by a disturbed mind.
Dad on my heels
Listening to propaganda
murder-bent at my heels
flogged flogged flogged till I go for pills.
Fled my home to the street
Ate from the bin
Lived with street kids
One of the flocks
One of the hard rocks.
I have been in the cold
No bosom have rocked with me
Save mum’s who lies in the clay.
I am spiritually dead
Physically out of mind, they say.
From pastor to pastor
From prayers to prayers
From recessions to intercessions,
Through starvation for correction
I remain unchanged.
I am finished, they say.
Nothing can help me
save God on whom I weep and call.
My relatives
Alienate me
making me atychiphobic
Aggravating my anthropophobia
building in me gelotophobia
and all those anthropological phobias
A loved child has no right to know.
It bringing me pain for they are nailing me shut.
I pity myself - Pity me father
Pity me, brother
Because I have tried
Tried to be loved
Tried to be the best from limps
But I am not up to those dreams.
I know that many dislike me
Feel uneasy when Gerald is around:
Instead of helping me
They become indifferent, violent.
I told Louisa last week as she fumed at methat
anything I lay my hands on
fails to work again.
It either gets bad or broken.
My own things end up craggy
No matter the patience and prudence I put in.
Why then am I born?
Why the fear
Why the alienation?
I pray that I be left alone
Donot curse me again, donot.
Accept my fate and let me be
Else you help in killing me.
Categories:
scuffle, child, grief, inspirational, lonely,
Form:
Didactic
Thy scarlet rise, thy wistful blur
I delve, into thine purest passion
and taste the ember
of our crazed pollution.
Thy lash, thy whipping break
I, hither under thine blooming scuffle
soothe the yoke of this moment
with the edge of epiphany's
final gasp.
Sink thine breath into mine marrow,
and live within me,
within this embrace.
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.
Categories:
scuffle, deep, love, metaphor, passion,
Form:
Iambic Pentameter
Fear not! Fear not! Fear not!
As you trudge through alien mud
Trudge! Trudge! Trudge!
Through parts that hush
Scuttle! Scuttle! Like cattle!
By tracks return is a scuffle-
But beware as you rush
That paths may not lead to paths.
Categories:
scuffle, wisdom,
Form:
Alliteration
Dependence and independence
(Humanity verses individualism)
The independence from dependence is the soul core of human affliction
The disconnection of the soul, mind and body is equal to death penalty
But liaison of waters to the roots speaks of the strength of the tree
The harmony of man’s heart to mind speaks of his actions-the scuffle within
Though it is our perpetual battle to reconcile our flesh to our spirit
Because without each other-life will drown in meaningless- cataclysm
Ecosystem of human mind, heart, soul and spirit-could be the answer to all
The independence from dependence is the soul core of human infirmity
Reacting to symptoms, diverting from the cause-the pride of man to be self-god
You will always be a slave in one-way or the other; our only sights are effects
Illusive freedom like sinking sands leading to hell and high water-caused by smugness
Dwindling within the skin, veins attached to my flesh, red blood flowing through-
Simplicity in complex, the unit and dependence of human body within itself
The day a soul can function normal without a body– that is day of individualism
The independence from dependence is the soul core of human disorder
Individualism, gender equality, fatherless and motherless society-cause of disorder
At Jiffy when marriage because minority to money, and a child is raised by neutral woman
Governed by no marital cords, submission is for the weak so she says-money answers all.
She cuddles whomever her desires crave for, driven by passion without purpose – devious
Walking in the shadows of reality, covering shame with make-up, eyelashes, and artificial hair
Self-blinded, becoming self-demon, possessed by iniquities of Genesis 3-self-gods or becoming
Categories:
scuffle, africa, desire, destiny, inspirational,
Form:
Ballad
My mind and heart will never be friends.
Sworn enemies, they wrestle and box
for control of me, the battle never ends
like the tick tocking pendulums of clocks
I ask my mind when it keeps me awake,
"Tell me, what do you think I should do?"
It growls and huffs, "Oh, for goodness' sake.
If you heed your heart, it will lead you askew!"
It went on to tell me to slow down to a crawl,
and I shouldn't hurry to make a quick decision.
It compared me to Humpty Dumpty on the wall,
headed for a fall and on course for a collision.
I'm weary of refereeing their constant scuffle,
especially when it concerns falling in love or not.
I keep smoothing the crumpled feathers they ruffle.
When they argue I'm the one put on the hot spot!
When I ask my heart, " Will you lead me astray?"
I can feel it ache as though it's crying deep inside.
It replied, "My emotions are not easy to convey,
but from love's fervor you should not choose to hide.
Falling in love is a risk and a big decision to make.
Your mind may be a sage with words and thought,
but there's much to lose if real affection you forsake.
No mind can feel the love that lives in your heart."
An unresolved dilemma, so I petitioned my soul,
but it remained mute, mind nor heart did it refute.
"Which one of you should I trust with control?"
That became the cornerstone for another dispute.
Mind: "Heart, I knew to your whim she'd concede."
Heart: "She chose to love and fulfill her great need."
August 19, 2022
Inner Conflict Contest
Sponsor: Unseeking Seeker
Categories:
scuffle, conflict, heart,
Form:
Rhyme
This sorrow is hollow in truth I am borrowed
Dont ever recall me with witness I'll follow
With constance I'll call out, the heavens in echoes
Oh save me I'm falling the broken shall honour
Their master dont bother redeem us they call out
It's painful to speak when this hunger it sets in
The children shall scuffle and ruffle their feathers
It matters so let us they'll get us and set us
On fire they'll burn us to turn us against us
And blame us with honours they'll call us
To show us they moan us in rafters
And then I will ask you to
See us believe us it withers we figure
That we are in rivers Please see us dont leave us
With pleasure we'll give up and give up with pleasure
Don't call me to tell me you sorry
Oh glory depict all the stories
Don't hold me just scold me
I cannot describe this This feeling if only
They told me the story of how I was holy
Control me they showed me how I was so lonely
Know that I was born on the doorsteps of sorrow
Just constantly furrowed by mindz that are shallow
In angst I will cry out in breath I will whisper
I have to beseech you and leave you within you
We see through through the issues and feed you induce you
Then you look whose thorugh you
Whofooled you to lose you
Then whose who when fools lose who could do what you drew
And paged through these fools who reviewed you and drew doom
They tried to erase you the graze you to faze you
Categories:
scuffle, conflict, deep, depression, fear,
Form:
Rhyme Royal
In the saloon Tom, Jenna and Tania were talking about Christmas week
They wanted to spread some cheer for the good folks of Soup Creek
Tom thought Milton would make a good Santa and hoped he'd agree
Their meeting was rudely interrupted with sounds of a noisy melee.
They went outside and Ranger David was looking very bemused
In handcuffs was a scruffy individual who was looking very confused
And had mean beady eyes with long hair and a long unkempt beard
He was shouting obscenities waving his arms and acting very weird.
Just then Sherrif Koplin appeared and asked David what was wrong
David replied "I think he's on drugs or he's been in the sun too long
I was over by Calypso Canyon on patrol, when I came across him
He pulled a gun on me but it jammed, and said his name was Jim"
Sheriff Koplin said "he's scaring the kids we'd best get him inside
Then I'll telegraph Doctor Keller to come and get him certified
I'll put him in the jailhouse for his own safety and for ours too
Maybe he needs a spell in an asylum that's probably long overdue.
The overland stage arrived next morning, Doctor Keller had arrived
It had been a long sleepless night for the Sheriff but he'd survived
Because the unruly prisoner had shouted obscenities all night long
And for a man to behave in that way something was seriously wrong.
Dr Keller had brought an assistant along, who looked like an assassin
The doctor spoke briefly with the Sheriff then to the jail they went in
The docs assistant had a straightjacket and rope; tools of the trade
A crowd had gathered to listen to the racket that was being made.
They came out half an hour later with the patient who was now secure
But in the scuffle had badly soiled himself and stunk of fresh manure
Doctor Keller approached the towns people and he had this to say
"This poor wretched man is quite sick and we'll be taking him away"
The overland stage then arrived in town and all three climbed inside
A journey to Sacramento Asylum was about a five and a half hour ride
The driver shouted and cracked his whip and they were soon on their way
"Good riddance to you " said Sheriff Koplin "don't come back any day.
written on 22nd November 2022
Categories:
scuffle, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
We're furry and coloured grey, brown, or black
Be-whiskered and sleek and reeking of fat
We'll squeeze through a hole, a gap, or a crack
For rotting flesh or dry bones to gnaw at
Four-legged dealers of lingering death
Malodorous creatures crawling with fleas
Exhaling our pungent foul-smelling breath
Urine and droppings on foodstuffs we squeeze
Our bellies swollen feasting in famine
Scrape on the ground as we scurry in swarms
Our carte du jour is often Scotch salmon
But our tastes transcend conventional norms
Some hang up meat to improve the flavour
We like ours scabrous and oozing with pus
Seasoned with still soft faeces to savour
But with or without we don't make a fuss
Our long yellow teeth are honed to the point
Where nothing's too hard for us to devour
Bone marrow, muscle, fat, gristle, or joint
We’ll crunch them with relish in half an hour
You clearly love us – we’re treated like kings
The streets are knee-deep in tit-bits half-chewed
Hot dogs, hamburgers and delicious things
Like deep fried chicken or vomit you've spewed
We're stealthy and brave there’s naught we don’t dare
To avoid rat-catchers putting us down
But once in Hamelin pipes played a strange air
That drew us deep in the river to drown
Next time you hear a scuffle or squeaking
In a cavity wall or from the floor
It might be us foraging and seeking
To build a little nest and breed some more…
Categories:
scuffle, animal, dark, horror,
Form:
Rhyme
I know I don't visit like I should
But, please don't think its cause I don't care,
My heart is still mourning and hurting
Knowing your all alone lying there.
Your free of pain with eternal life
I know in your memory I should rejoice,
But, its not the same without you here
I'd give anything to hear your voice.
One more time to see your smile
Even to feel your gentle touch,
Hearing you laugh from deep down
Oh, this and more I miss so much.
The scuffle as your walking by
I can hear you coughing at night,
Feel your presence through the house
Your assuring me everything is alright.
So, untill one day when I'm called home
The heavenly angels come down for me,
I'll continue to keep you within my heart
While I keep replaying your memory.
Memory of my brother, Matt. R.I.P. 2/5/69-3/19/09
Categories:
scuffle, brother, loss
Form:
Rhyme
Under the Iroko tree I sat and pondered
As riotous thoughts held me hostage
Making the thinkable and unthinkable
Engage in brainstorming scuffle
Under the Iroko tree as I sat and pondered
The gentle breeze caressed my tired skin
Wrestling my heavy eyelids into a deep sleep
And face to face I came with the Creator of the universe
"How are you my son? He inquired
"I am fine sir" I murmured
"I am sending you to the lost sheep of Nigeria"
" Tell them they have disappointed me"
" How is that sir? I ventured
" I endowed them with unimaginable wealth"
" Of course Nigeria is the giant of Africa Sir"
" Giant of Africa with the brain of a lilliputian"
" Lord I do not understand that part"
" I gave them unprecedented Commonwealth for all Nigerians"
"Thank you lord for your generosity"
" But it ended in the pockets of a few while the deprived bother me with prayers"
" I gave them unity in diversity"
"Lord we are eternally grateful for that"
" But it has become a source of weakness as they do not value its strength"
" what message do I take to Nigerians?
" Tell their leaders that the beauty of life depends on how happy their citizens are because of them"
Categories:
scuffle, allusion, betrayal, blessing, change,
Form:
Free verse