Best Shoving Poems
(The Merry Adventures of Robin Good)
Sherwood's Forest legendary, leading man
up, down, tricking eggs between branches
slender, slander, his voice is growing thinner
twisting, turning heads 50 shades of green
Master of disguise reaching for the top archers spot,
A bard, with uncanny precision, ROBIN nonstop
Splitting his opponent LIKE A BOSS!
Aiming arrows, where broken women sit
Creating fantasies, for his band of hypocrites
A serenade, of jealousy and mayhem
A poetic outlaw, generously taking what others earn
Wearing black tights, the hottest profile, sipping wine
A lust beyond Dorthy's Rainbow, a venomous poem
Somewhere, covered in leprechaun's gold
His chest is cold
- Yet warm from all the hands caressing this bard,
He is the best, gravity has no weight on his pen,
A soundless soldier having his way with his sword,
Executing those who challenge him,
Breathing life into many empty accounts
Giving voices and self-encouragement
With no time to drop down this bard from cloud nine
A dissipation of air fresheners and hello's
Painting pain just to pretend it hurts the person
A fragile voice whispering in the shadows
Slithering Secrets;
From this hooded bard who carries no face,
A mask of lies, taking what belongs to others.
Robin of honor, graveled by his peasants
MISUNDERSTOOD in every fashion, yet he preys
Pipping dreams away, down an infested rat's path
Shoving Little Johns hopes down the list
Robin is no common criminal, just a bard
Wearing a dark cloak, when in disguise
taking from the greedy --- giving to the needy
Thank you for enjoying my story
Robin Good and his network of Merry Men
2-3-16
High tide
sadness billows
swells over me in waves
massive, silent, overwhelming
melancholy ocean engulfing me
flailing, drowning in emotion
or maybe I'm being
too dramatic
only-
It feels
that dramatic-
my universe slightly
out of orbit or alignment
something strangely out-of-kilter causing
all things to be thrown off their course
too much wind and pressure
in atmosphere
storms surge
Drifting
on swift currents
rudderless, out to sea
swept toward an isolated
island, far removed from humanity
pulling me farther and farther
from the reality
of what could be
wind-tossed
Landing
on shore, lonesome
building small raft of hope
shoving off at nightfall, to sleep
buoyantly, trusting by morning I'll be
somewhere else- maybe better or
not, but different than
here- can't be worse
I think...
Often I wonder, is it worth it
Opening my eyes to blurred red numbers each morning,
broken lines of early hour countings,
as gloomed darkness peers through streaked windows
and dusty mini blinds create silent wooden horizons
Groaning, upright now on the edge of the mattress…stretching,
rubbing my face to remove the remnants of last night,
shoving aside the warmth of my faded flannel blanket,
then finding a cold floor giggling at the touch of my naked feet
I recall the dream, my last moments of sleep…weird…real feeling
Aerosmith, a souvenir stand in Wildwood and an iPad
Sketchy but still there (and I wish I were too)
Don’t ask….
I can hear my dogs grunting at the foot of bed
(Probably chasing raccoons in their heads)
What a life, eating, sleeping, no need for love (in that sense),
just a nice pat on the head every once in a while satisfies
Sometimes I guess that is all it takes, all we can hope for…
Still sitting here, yawning…thinking…
Why do I do this each day, every day, the same routine,
the deepest rut, like tire tracks in fresh mud, straight, never ending…
Then, as the tiniest glint of sunlight sifts the tenebrous room
I think of you…my happiness, my everyday purpose and it all becomes clear
Smiling now, I stand and greet this brand new beautiful day…wide awake
Often I wonder, is it worth it...and then I wonder why I wonder
Good morning Soupers
MISDEMEANOR
A soft lisp runs through blonde summer grasses,
shoving at kites or the hems of long skirts.
Umbrellas and hats stir as it passes,
jumbling at picnics, it teases and flirts.
It picks up speed while playing with Marty,
and takes his land legs as he tries to walk.
The unseen source can raid a yacht party,
by strewing boats that are moored to the dock.
Laughing in whispers or screaming in storms,
a mythical being, felt but not seen.
Its guests are blind to the brail it performs,
it can be gentle, or just as well, mean.
Wickedly hurling a house in the air,
or docile enough to tousle our hair.
-Edlynn Nau
© May 21, 2018
MAUNDY THURSDAY
The Upper Room was hushed that night,
As frightened friends supped their last as one.
Shoving back the morrow
When their leader would be gone.
This is my body—broken for you;
You are my beloved—take my blood, too.
Do this and as oft as you do it,
Do it in remembrance of me.
(A shipman shivered on a night-long watch
The night was warm, but he was not.
“There is a horror in the air breathed he.)
And for you I will go to the tree.
For you, I will give all of me.
(Outside somewhere across the world
A bird stopped singing, dropped its head,
And curled its wings under in a roosting pose.)
Did he know—did he really know
He would rise again and live
He has surely faithed it so!
And with body trembling but heart obedient.
He would go.
(And in the distance a cobbler nailing
Finished his last shoes for the day.)
My soul screams, He silent cries!
By what decree must it be
That I must lie upon a tree and nailed be,
Beaten by the throng—I have done no wrong!
Have You forsaken me—here in my Gethsemane?
(If you can listen, you can hear a
Mother’s lullaby song.)
Father, you chose me for this desperate task
That they may all know Love at last.
Thy will be done.
As We are One.
(The feverish earth turns, dances, sings, sails, nails,
Rocks without eyes – without ears – it spins on.)
Easter is not yet.
An hour before time, they put her through the motions.
Shoving and pulling her strings adding oil and suntan lotion.
Hot and humid still shining in candid spirit she professes
in music, a monotone but in finesse, a tune nonetheless.
Of her welcome song intrinsic in me but to her handlers, in blase
only the mere task of steering and roping in tense power play.
Embarking though marred by obvious signs of abuse and neglect.
Her rolling in elation disguised the slippery entrance and my regret.
Drivers accommodating cramped spaces as directed, gently to fill.
Opting to maitain serenity as they in vain, placate her iron will.
Do I hear her rising blood pulses or lack of joy in welcome thereof?
No, just the sound of tumultuous creaks and human smell
of perfume, tainted sweat and punjent oil leaks let off.
Disgruntled impatience of mere sailors but of her, not a peep.
Standing tall, holding firm a class of her own as she let sweep.
Riding the waves in style directing me to the destiny I must keep.
On and on she rides tantalising the waves as they foam at the peaks.
Such insight when she lapses into a lullaby putting me to sleep.
I return to a friend who knows well to serve, to ferry me ashore.
Another blissful time with her as the sea beckons for us to explore.
She is faithful, a useful companion with its own metallic commodore.
Sailing majestically forever a classy lady, our very own Lady Samoa.
(N.B Lady Samoa is our Inter-Island Ferry)
Muffins, Doritos and Cheetos, Oh My! (A Bulimic’s Tale)
There is a hole in her core she must sate.
So, she drives to the grocery store before it’s too late.
She steers the cart in search of junk food.
She spots a case of cupcakes that can ease her mood.
Powdered donuts on a shelf she can reach.
Next, she chooses Bottled sodas, she packs up five each.
Muffins, Doritos, Cheetos, Funyuns and Snickers she will par-take.
She must not forget about the Little Debbie snack cakes.
Once the cashier starts scanning her vittles,
She starts to feel a tingly rush form in her middle.
She pays her fee then rushes to her vehicle parked afar
Then unloads the groceries on the passenger seat of the car.
As she sits behind her steering wheel.
She appraises her edible saviors, then makes her appeal
She starts with the Snickers shoving them down her throat,
The empty void inside her fills as she lets out a choke.
The Funyuns and muffins are next on her seat.
She devours them in seconds, puffing up her cheeks.
Doritos, Cheetos and snack cakes are inhaled like oxygen,
She is slightly starting to feel whole again.
The cupcakes are the last morsels of her stock
She washes them down with the soda she bought.
When the food is gone she observes the food wrappers in her space.
She glances in the rear view mirror but fails to recognize her face.
Powdered sugar and Cheeto dust crusting around her lips,
A sob escapes her chest as sanity begins to slip.
There is one more mission she must forgo
Opening her car door, she shoves a finger down her throat.
Vomit is released from her belly’s lair.
Stomach acid and bile sting the night air.
She appraises the regurgitation splattered on the concrete.
Then senses the empty void is gone, her task is complete.
A constant battle rages between my heart and mind.
The stress of my decision the devil himself must have assigned.
"Your health and sanity are in jeopardy" screams my brain.
"Don't dare let him go" shrieks my heart in agonizing pain.
My heart says:
"He's the one for you, you never felt this way before
You ache when away from him, he's the one that you adore.
Be patient with him for in time he will change his ways
Just remember the good times and how he sets your senses ablaze."
My brain says:
"In the years that you have known him, you haven't seen a change.
He's still insecure and jealous, doesn't that seem a little strange.
He believes what he wants to believe and thinks you are a liar.
You let your self become a target and he does not hesitate to fire."
My heart says:
"He's been through a lot, just show him the strength of your love.
One day he realize you stood by him when push came to shove.
What if he is my soul-mate.......is that not worth the fight?
Just follow me, 'your heart' and everything will be all right."
My brain says:
"There should be no shoving, insane questioning and childish games.
He would never hurt you and make you cry if he loves you like he claims.
No matter how much you reassure him, he can't seem to get past his issues
He acts like your judge and jury, you'll be forever crying in wad of tissues.
My heart says:
"But don't you see, I'll be crying anyway, I will be broken and beyond repair.
I promised him that I would never let him go, to give up on love seems so unfair.
People search all their lives for that one special person, I truly believe he's mine!
If we can get beyond this madness I know we can once again be on cloud nine."
My brain says:
"Then buck up, stop your tears and for my sanity don't take any more crap.
You're too damn soft hearted, stop letting yourself fall into a turbulent emotional trap.
Life is too short to be unhappy even for a day, I know on this point we both agree.
Just continue to give your all and try your best......... what will be, will be!
"Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead." ~Adele~
A welcome sight the lights ahead - like misty globules on ink black foam
The billboard elicits a sense of foreboding - Welcome to the Midnight Bazaar
A lack luster moon adds to the mystery – nervously I enter to ask my way home
A familiar song plays in the somewhere, the name eludes me - how bizarre
Somberly dressed people scurry past- eyes focused on illuminated screens
Refusing contact, shoving past rudely as I ask where this place would be
One of them in riddles tells me - this is home - the place to be it seems
I wonder if the scales of reality have tipped in favor of insanity
A stall arouses my curiosity and I look as a butcher of sorts places
Bleeding hearts getting desired effect - starts a pushing jostling frenzy
Uninterested in the clowns on stilts with their painted morbid faces
Children walk with sullen looks - expressionless eyes that fail to see
Crowds clamor to buy sea food - how absurd - especially as a smell of decay prevails
Fresh produce on sale with dyed color bleeding and truffles of mud is there something amiss
A man wanders around with passports on offer - Buy yourself a Life - his sign displays
Relief at last - a stall with books and maps – here is my escape from this tainted Abyss
This God forsaken place is not where I wish to stay
And I must strive to leave it before the light of day
An exorbitant sum I pay eager to escape his cloying breath, his black toothed smile
A commotion at the far end - some sort of bidding - curiously I venture courage giving me wings
A sign proclaims ‘Souls For Sale’- in rage I scream ‘you cannot sell souls - This is so Vile ‘
Dark soulless eyes in chalk white faces – Bore right through me – Look right through me
I run screaming, falling, clawing the map that shows all roads lead back to this Hell - I scream
Waking myself - knowing the name of that song still in my head - Shaking from this macabre dream
Footnote:
This was not meant to be a pretty poem. It exaggerates the state of a world that has seemingly lost its focus and empathy. Let's not let this happen
Take a bit of Dean Kontz, Stephen King and the unnatural things going on with food enhancements and you have the stage set for a macabre nightmare!
Another fresh year is here,
I would love to banish from my life, worry doubt & fear.
I would like to be joyous, true and live life each moment with zest,
and give the people around me nothing but the best.
I would love to talk, communicate and break mental barriers that are creations,
and work hard towards mending broken relations.
I would love to tell my wife to give me all her tears and fear,
and take from me all my love the loving words she likes from me to hear.
I would love to make an effort to be a good friend,
to my elder daughter and put all petty misunderstandings to an end.
I would love to stop to the people in contact ,the shoving,
and spend more time in loving.
I would love to stop being disadvantageous and outrageous,
and speak only the truth and for that be courageous.
I would love to fight my emotions all unfriendly,
and cover them all with feelings that are friendly.
I would love to learn to be sensitive,
and towards others be open and receptive.
I would love to practice not to crib about all the things life has not given me,
and be greatful for the great things around me I have an opportunity to feel and see.
I would love to learn to be content about all I have received,
and focus now on giving and helping those, whom life has deceived.
I would love to pray for world peace and plant more trees,
and work to help out for carbon emission decrease.
I would love to learn to be unforgiving,
and be more tolerant and caring.
I would love to right some of my wrongs,
and be true to myself and hum joyous songs.
Finally, I would love to learn to be humble and full of gratitude,
and to do so spend some precious moments of my day reflecting in solitude.
A Dream
I patiently waited for you all the day long, my beloved.
Even the tired, orange, afternoon sun long ago drifted off to sleep.
Nighttime arrived in a hurry shoving away the short-lived evening,
with rhinestone stars dotting a shimmering, dark, velvet sky,
and a pale, silver moon shyly venturing on the horizon.
After the lamps were all lit, I struggled to stay awake,
but my heavy eyelids drooped as I was weary from the long day.
So forgive me, my lord, as I unwittingly succumbed
to the potent spell of the Sandman’s magical dust;
and sly Morpheus sneakily captured me in his soothing embrace.
Come share with me this dream of tranquil enchantment,
in a watercolor field of delicately perfumed lavender and clover.
And I in peaceful repose await your arrival, my lord,
to gently awaken me with tender kisses, sweet as nectar.
I look for you, my dearest love, in a dream!
05-25-2014
Contest: A Dream
Sponsor: Isaiah Zerbst
Placement: 3rd
MAUNDY THURSDAY
The Upper Room was hushed that night,
As frightened friends supped their last as one.
Shoving back the morrow
When their leader would be gone.
This is my body—broken for you;
You are my beloved—take my blood, too.
Do this and as oft as you do it,
Do it in remembrance of me.
(A shipman shivered on a night-long watch
The night was warm, but he was not.
“There is a horror in the air breathed he.)
And for you I will go to the tree.
For you, I will give all of me.
(Outside somewhere across the world
A bird stopped singing, dropped its head,
And curled its wings in a roosting pose.)
Did he know—did he really know
He would rise again and live
He has surely faithed it so!
And with body trembling but heart obedient.
He would go.
(And in the distance a cobbler nailing
Finished his last shoes for the day.)
My soul screams, He silent cries!
By what decree must it be
That I must lie upon a tree and nailed be,
Beaten by the throng—I have done no wrong!
Have You forsaken me—here in my Gethsemane?
(If you can listen, you can hear a
Mother’s lullaby song.)
Father, you chose me for this desperate task
That they may all know Love at last.
Thy will be done.
As We are One.
(The feverish earth turns, dances, sings, sails, nails,
Rocks without eyes – without ears – it spins on.)
Easter is not yet.
Savannah Night
There was an uneasy feeling that night on the savannah.
The creatures were jumpy as they huddled and grazed.
Startling at each new sound, one stamps its foot and
the vast herd flees, from what they are unsure.
The lions creep through the long grass setting an ambush.
The first pair's job to spook the herd now is done.
The rest spread out, now taking up the deadly hunt.
Working quickly they target one and separate it.
One lioness jumps on its back then slips off and is trampled.
Another tackling it face on is gored in the shoulder.
But the rest soon have it cornered and it is soon smothered.
As it dies the pride are already ripping open its belly.
The blood covers the land red as it seeps into the soil
There will be feasting tonight as the lions gather to eat.
Snarling as they rip into the warm carcass, blows lashing out,
As they vie for position, pushing and shoving each other.
The hunt was long and hard, the fruits came at high price.
Two lioness wounded, one will die. Such is the cost of success.
A calf bawls for its mother, yet she cannot answer its call.
Sadly it is too young to live, it will end up a tasty morsel.
Sated the lions rest in the early sunlight as cubs play.
Life for now on the savannah continues, and peace reigns.
There's been bedlam down at the food bank store
Rushing and shoving through the opened door
I've even seen fighting there on the floor.
What's happening to people, can’t they share?
When it appears there's hunger everywhere
All we need is some love, kindness and care.
* * *
Again I'm going to the food bank store
For my little girl Daisy Loo, who's four
Always hungry and it hurts to the core.
Life has not been cushy since her dad strayed
I wouldn't have him back if on knees he prayed
By him and my best friend I was betrayed.
She is welcome to him he's nought but trash
Having a love affair behind my back
Without care for me or our little lass.
Though it's tough to manage without one's man
I work every day to earn all I can
I clean houses while Daisy Loo’s with nan.
Can't believe her dad just up sticks and went
Not much is left after paying the rent
To feed my daughter when all has been spent.
As for the hubby, he's past history
Food bank store manager's coming to tea
He's fond of Daisy Loo and fond of me.
Tonight chefs special will be beans on toast
And I’m going to be the perfect host
Believe me I almost gave up the ghost.
Food bank store team and all donators too
Thank you most kindly and God bless all you
Much love from me and my girl Daisy Loo.
* * *
4th August 2021
Panic at the Food Bank Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
Remember when we were young, you and I
Bit of boyish mischief we used to cause
The swearing, pushing, shoving, and punches
We'd put on the charm when it came to mom
Bit of boyish mischief we used to cause
You, big brother, I followed and looked up to
We'd put on the charm when it came to mom
Inseparable, we stood by one another
You, big brother, I followed and looked up to
We went our different paths as we grew
Inseparable, we stood by one another
I miss the fun times when we were kids
We went our different paths as we grew
The swearing, pushing, shoving, and punches
I miss. The fun times when we were kids
Remember when we were young, you and I
2/8/2020
A plain Pantoum not a rhyming pantoum
Contest Name PANTOUM
Sponsored By: Line Gauthier
February 10, 2020 POTD
Typically a pantoum is made up of two rhyming couplets, however, Western writers altered and adapted the form, the importance of rhyming and brevity diminished. So, pantoums do not need to rhyme.