Best Shamble Poems
My desk is all of a shamble
My garden is full of bramble
Does this show me to be
High in ability
Or just a bad example
So, if I tidy up the mess
Would my intelligence be less
Would I be a social turd
Misunderstanding each word
Just like a politician ... yes?
Einsteins Quote :
If a cluttered desk, signs a cluttered mind, of what, then, is an empty desk a sign?
Penned 17 April 2015
Categories:
shamble, confusion,
Form:
Limerick
Barefoot on the paving slab chill, concrete
feet feel frostbite emanations in their callused souls;
rooftop mystique clamours silent slate triangles,
perched the stray cat observers, red-eyes smoking coals.
Down to the river's edge where swaying reeds
feed mongrel contemplations with moist whispered words;
rusty oil-slicked surfaces lick the muddy banks,
karma sutra assassins are the predatory birds.
Fixated upon a frozen traffic system, bolt-locked,
dumb-shocked by electric one way streets to dead ends;
barstool poets weep sleep-sozzled cabbage tears
for the closing-time tragedy of long-time absent friends.
Drunkards shamble on beer-stained coliseum floors, grumble,
mumble incomprehensible diatribes into thin air;
the memorial park benches flake skin and rot within,
white spirits rape the dreams that anyone should care.
Deserted boardwalks spool a crooked travel,
unravel with myopic glint and blink, cat's eyes dying, died,
and the desolated song from night's deflated lung
hums doggerel consolation with no meaning left inside.
Illegitimate offspring of fatherless daughters and sons,
buns in sceptic ovens, burnt baked black offerings;
sacrifices on toilet stall altars, to lie in state
no more than ether, aborted ghosts, empty superfluous things.
Saviours ride no pale horses, immaculate white stallions,
galleons never sail to where the sun pristinely sets,
for the purpose of this life resides in its conclusion,
deserve has nothing to do with it and nothing is all it begets
Categories:
shamble, life, people, philosophy, places,
Form:
Verse
I Love Food Contest
Sponsor: Lewis Raynes
Yummy steak fajitas with a pound of sour cream,
along with hot salsa and many tortilla chips, I do wish,
chicken quesadillas are my number one dainty dream,
I’d have to say Mexican food is my favorite savory dish.
I eat more than my stomach seems to be able to handle,
then I write and sleep it off until the next dinner time,
my life is so full of food it’s in a messy complete shamble,
it’s time for hard and soft tacos as I think of a rhyme.
Cheese enchiladas are good from my gramma’s recipe,
a few green onions topped with delectable hot sauce,
black beans mixed in with cilantro so incredibly spicy!
with just a pinch of hot chili powder gently tossed.
A complete meal with palatable food upon my plate,
entices me for more before I even take the first bite,
for the scrumptiousness of my love for food is innate,
when I was just a wee young lady it was love at first sight.
The greatest feeling about eating is filling up my void,
even though it seems silly and hard to comprehend,
but Mexican food will always be very hard to avoid,
at the restaurants I’ll always be the first to recommend.
Oh, the edibles and luscious cuisine I choose to love to eat,
fill my tummy with rumbles and tasty appetizers so great,
oh, I almost forgot, Mexican corn dip is a delicious treat,
for the scrumptiousness of my love for food is always innate.
Date Written: June 29, 2016
Categories:
shamble, food,
Form:
Rhyme
Terry, as I called him, was ten years old when I bought him
No power steering, that, I could handle
No air conditioning, now that was a shamble
I tried fixing his air, but he said no
He drank all of the freon and said let's go
With my head out the window, we drove along
One day the brakes went out, and when he finally stopped, I walked home
I reluctantly put him up for sale
because he was my first car, my toyota tercel
Driving Me Crazy
Adrienne L. Gresham
Categories:
shamble, dedication, friendship, hope,
Form:
Light Verse
Virtue flee and vice will come
A new observation I made today
The things I do not want
Are always in the way
When what I desire most
Tetters me pining at some sturdy post.
Here comes cockroaches trekking on the table
Here comes rats my hate to disable
Here comes flies knotting up my space
And spiders threading desert place
I little use, even for waste
Here comes gobs of green fungus
Turning black on a cloth of white
There is so much oddity in my race
That I share with every man
We do what we do not want
And what we want we can't
Resolutions are a shamble in this place
They creep and crawl
Infectious desires
Contaminants of everthing but fire
I cannot let this in.
Categories:
shamble, war,
Form:
Free verse
18 YEARS, JUST LIKE YESTERDAY.
18 years ago, just like yesterday,
I remembered how it all happened.
A life, his life was ebbing away with the breaking of dawn.
I held him but could not hold back the fleeing spirit,
swiftly taking its flight to its eternal abode.
I held him but could not hold back the tears as I watched him breathed his last breath.
*Erin wo lojo ojo yen,
*Ajanaku subu ko le dide.
The cock crowed, innocently heralding the end of an age,
Of a soul, a father and a husband.
He was a fighter,
full of funny banter.
a warrior,
of no terror.
He was my father,
the muse who triggered poetry in me.
It’s been eighteen years now, we are no more the same
The teenagers have become father and mothers of men and women.
The little boys have become men.
The young widow has become a grandmother.
And the inheritance which triggered acrimony among kith and kin,
is now in shamble,
a total mess, with no allurement
Those who drummed the tune of discord,
can no longer hold their heads tall,
But the souls that suffered the hate, the sneer,
have moved on
Yes, for eighteen years,
we have laughed together,
we have played together,
but we have hidden
our bitterness,
our hatred,
our rivalry,
under the shroud of deceit.
Now,
eighteen years is enough to heal the sores festered
by rivalry,
by hatred,
by bitterness
Eighteen years is enough to let go of many pains.
Eighteen years is enough to sheathe our weapons of war.
Eighteen years is enough to remember our last end,
And show love to friends and foes.
It’s been eighteen years, just like yesterday.
Categories:
shamble, bereavement,
Form:
Free verse
A women of one drawer
I lost a friend today
a summer pal
we shared seven years together
it left me by the rear
where my cheeks meet the chair
my life in shamble and no need for rags
I just empty its pockets
look at him one last time and let it go
Categories:
shamble, lost,
Form:
Free verse
Salesman: “Can I help you? Yes sir. Yes Sir!
Well, you’ve come to the right place.
Our own lineup has won awards
We lift you up through time and space!”
Buyer: “Why, yes, I am. That’s a fact.
But I’ll be careful to decide.
When I do buy, I want the best
So don’t take me for a ride.”
Buyer: “No cigars or reflective globes,
I want style and sharp and sleek.
And it must swirl just out of range
They might come up to take a peek.
I need a ramp to shoot straight out
Or a pod that will reach the ground.
I would like a quiet downshift
So I can land without a sound
From zero to post light warp drive
It must hover and not just float
I can not deal with under steer,
I want sports car without the bloat.”
Salesman: “We integrate one straight from spec
And customize it to your needs
You should know our reputation
We are the one who really leads.”
Buyer: “It must have the finest force field
And nova lights across the tail.
Phasers and disintegrators
Must be standard or no sale.
Does it contain a COSMOS map?
So I can go anywhere I please
No incidents with the natives
I want to come and go with ease.
I want the newest type of GORT
He can shamble or he can stride
I want some muscle in the ship
When I suit up and take a ride.”
Salesman :“Of course, yes sir, of course you do.
Your choice of suits is here for you
Well, first there is the standard white: Buyer: “(No, that’s too passé.)
Shimmering like the Robinsons: (Ahem, much too gaudy.)
Subtle silver much like Klaatu: (No, that’s not really me.)
Or the basic Roswell glimmer:” (Okay, I’ll take it.)
(That’s the one for me!)”
Buyer: “I have a trip, I wish to make.
Away so far, a yellow star
There’s an orb, the third one out
So blue and green, it must be see!”
Salesman: “Very good! Congratulations!
Sir, you’ve made a splendid choice
Will you pay for that in Vorax?
(But we also accept quasars.)”
Categories:
shamble, fantasy, funny, parody, science
Form:
Light Verse
Love shall say it's sorry so truth may atone
My soul brings praise to no other, you alone
Like the stars tell stories of your eyes alone
Like the tides weave history in every moan
I have languished in the light of other moons
That made our emptiness bright. The ruins
Of my dreams I cusp in my hands, and walk
The printed sand to you. Trace my past now,
See again the dunes where I bleed, O talk
To me with understanding as trust will allow
For we long in the rain edge friendships blind
Bandaging fears with the solace of any kind
Yet never sucked in, nor yet content outside
We overcompensate for the thing we hide.
Shall I despise you, shall I disrespect you, or
Ever go back to my busy emptiness? Believe
Me, you are the jewel kingdoms fought for
And to you alone who fill my dim void, I cleave
Love shall say it's sorry. since our hearts keeps
No covenant with the night, nor your form sleeps.
Remember you are prized, and no beauty glows
Majestic in my eyes, like you who keep our vows.
Friends may wander, virtual or real, into my call
And sing there awhile to wither the heart's gall
But songs alone will never fill my void, you alone
Right the history of my shamble and of my moan.
Categories:
shamble, devotion, introspection, lovehistory, may,
Form:
Verse
And blondes whistle (mightily)
Groove and rhythm supplied
By their accidental guardians
Feigning lock-down on these
Rancid, insipid rugged shores
It's what's expected
The triumphant stasis
The settling down of
Benign expectations
Mixed coarsely with the
Vinegar-garnished
Toxic waves disguised as hope
Fame and glamor
The settling in of those
Who (plead) their mere existence
Laconic persistence
To roam and dare
And acquiesce to forms
Much disparate from themselves
Where and who were they
Before the fall
Their (coerced) lament
Wrapped and pressed
By an indignant Creator
Lie your amble shamble
Down square
With the cracks which
Suckle the (greasy) heat
No scars to spare
Envelopes with deranged matriculation
Puncture the remaining pores
Now everyone, even them
Can wade (deep) into December
Without barometric shift
Gastronomic rift
Or the means to remind yourself
Where the days have hidden
Somewhere plain yet hard to find
Wake me once if your pleasure
Grinds the senses weakly
Wake me twice if all's redeemed
The pageant gone
And once again the blondes
Tune their vacant chords
Hustling into naked ensembles
Flush with gravitas
Conduct the many
Swollen from the vagaries
Of plucking
One too many strings.
(9/6/06)
Categories:
shamble, beauty, lust, sensual, sexy,
Form:
Free verse
Lafayette we are a shamble of noises
digging the street and towing cars
as I told you so for my two twenty
that I pay for and you delivered hundred ten
or may be a sewer to extinguish a fire
stop tropicana for a drink of coconut
Categories:
shamble, political,
Form:
Free verse
OPEN YOUR HEART
There are children dying in the streets,
There are mothers who still live in fear
There are those whose world is still in shamble
Without peace , without love.
Open your heart and say that you care for them
Open your heart and tell them there is love
Open your heart and say that dreams still come true
Open your heart and show them you care.
If we can hold our hands together,
If we can give our very selves...
Then all the hatred and pain around us,
Will surely vanish ,
Love and peace shall abound
In the spaces of our hearts,
And soon the children of the world ahead
Will learn from us how to shape their hearts and shape them well
For those who are in need.
So, for now, let's learn to open our hearts.
Categories:
shamble, care,
Form:
Free verse
outside
inventoried oval-stoned
cathedrals appealing
chiming crimes of passion
woke citronella
fog
hung in cement-hamocked snowdrifts
cloaked slow on slick-stained windowsides
tenement sheets
with the pomegranate notes
of rhythms unrhymed
while all the uptown laundromarts
rising up
from insomniac-scrambled sidewalks
corked-copper moon tumbling earthward
like a sweet
sweatshredded pennants
of sun-saliva silks on rain-dribbled cotton
then
cherry-flat footsteps lust-percussive
under shamble-wracked sills
pause and then pass on
momentarily appeased in time by
blued bars on fly-fouled panes
bell tower-balanced above
taverns abutting back alleyways of
need
by fireplace mantle-pieced nooses
of nylonic shirts and poly slacks
and musts dusted-down
past stockinged-lidded faux plastic lampshades
passed on past magnolia movements
of fingertips on muscle surfaces
in-side
defoliate-spun spinnakered islands
chocked choked
in passing lynched adhesion
ignoring nicotine-papered stripteasing walls
or scotch-spat skirtings
creeping pedestal for
a moulded tangerine ceiling stuccoed into sudden mute
breath
rinsed down a night-scented-taking-stock
split-mirrored motel door
they go lunging over greasy chapels of
grit-grained
breakfast jasmine-tea-stained mock vinyl rugs
squeaking cot now like some
concreted river bed's of slump
of stun-spurned wants broken down
consciousness half-considered
stirring
Categories:
shamble, life,
Form:
Free verse
Like two ticks off a midnight,when the minutes drag for days,
my life was in a shamble and my mind was just a daze.
It started Monday morning after I had been retrenched,
The water pipes had burst and all my furniture was drenched.
Tuesday saw my naked out the front without a key,
Amid the smoke and rubber where my car's supossed to be.
N' Wednesday was the night that my old buddy says to me,
The girl I've seen for eighteen months' been seeing him for three.
A stroll down to the local for a "strong" one seemed the call,
'Cept happy hour'd been cancelled and was now the monthly brawl.
Friday all I did was wear an icepak on my head,
In terror knowing that it could be worse....I could be dead.
Categories:
shamble, angst, funny,
Form:
Rhyme
I can hear them coming,
Just down the hall,
Just down the corridor,
I see their shadows on the wall.
Closer, closer, closer they come,
What do I do!
If they catch me,
They'll have a new thing to chew.
Even closer they shamble,
Withered hands outstretched,
Their mouths open...moaning,
Their decaying bodies wretched.
There is no way out of this school,
My fate I'll meet very soon,
This school...is my crypt,
And this hallway...is my tomb.
Categories:
shamble, anxiety, dark, evil, grave,
Form:
Ballad