Best Shrilling Poems
The Power of One
Slowly shadows devour the day’s light,
The silhouette of fear draws breath
From the soul left gasping,
A firestorm of fury gathering,
Like mists of plagues escaping
From an ancient land of sand and tombs
With locusts warning of hope’s starvation
To escort the darkness rising
Turning pleas into ashes – weeping into stone -
Pounding on the mountainsides where sweetest spice
Withers beneath lullabies
Robbed of serenity’s grace -
Flowing furious on fevered winds
Pushing reveries and faith out on a ledge -
Not knowing right from left
Or up from down -
No words of clarity in
In the whirlwind’s barren chrysalis,
To hem in - to constrain -
With invisible shrilling waves of crisis
Whipped up by anguish
That binds the wildly beating, frantic heart,
Like a captured sparrow;
To scoff, to jeer, to overlook,
The single bloom standing up,
Trembling like new leaves on thinnest branches,
Scanning galaxies of prophetic possibility,
Then lean on visionary stars
That shatter with the speed of light
The hovering shadow of inertia’s darkest enchantment,
Sending out the solitary song of meadowlarks,
Still caroling through deafness, not silenced,
Not bending to the ill winds moaning
And the chaos screaming,
To scatter seeds of spring not born
Like unseen winged flyers;
To see beyond and past descending doom,
Into that far and sheltered arbor
With dreams of wisdom and young visions -
Outside the grasp of calamity,
Beyond the dark horizon -
Enticing with an alluring fragrance gather back
Into the benediction of the ever circling eternal seasons
Promising….
Four legs quiver
like clumsy cabrioles
striking smooth gray rivers
of zig-zag sidewalk barrios
in rhythm with happy shivers
syncopated on a muffled drum
as we talk and stroll
On our way
hand-in-hand
we persuade and pretend
this day away
taunting and cajoling to demand
laughing “hide and seeking”
chasing and skedaddling
poking and peeking
like cuddly pandas
or canoodling otters
splashing and clambering
We roll and meander
impetuously twiddling all the way
atop gregarious green promenades
we pause in slight delay
as we prattle and prance
as we dance to the Crickets singing
nodding to their fiddling
frolicking with all the jiggling
Serendipitous stalks
of snickering flowers pop
to dazzle and razzle our wits
we glide in stripes of candy bits
of rainbows bright
Purple painted paisley
fragrantly flairs in pairs
of scented lavender sweetness
among black-eyed daisies
dusting the woozy air
in a meadow’s billowing bloom
sunflowers sunbathe in costume
We giddily tarry
as we carry
a feast of fancies and treats
artsy bits of charmed delicacies
filled with a peck of upcoming kisses
enticing fantasies that wink
Snuggling shenanigans lead us astray
as we find our rootie-tootie hideaway
hugs as we shy away
from tomfoolery jesting
to lay down and swoon
looking up at the soon to be stars
lingering for the coming of the moon
Murmurs of Starlings
gaggle their harmonies
of chirps
in cheeks and broadened beaks
thrumming tiny melodies.
Swallows sweep and woo
fixated on this unabashed swain
through songbird strains
announcing a shrilling review
broadening in sweet refrains
“I love you…I love you”
Fingerpainting the Monet sky
puffy white cotton words appear
from clouds passing by
while tiny violins spin in the air
piccolos peep
pigeon-toed Doves coo and weep
their contentedness to appease
trailing off the pleasant breeze
I fall upon my knees
My words explode to strew
like a thousand storms set free
“I love you…I love you…I love you”
Smokeless inhales hurt.
I cough tar on my shirt.
As my black lungs breathe,
Shrilling exhales wheeze.
Cabrona
Falls me
Down to
My knees.
The nicotine cracks
My will.
My composure
Spills.
I want
This.
I must
Have this.
I sink
Into
The brink
Of madness.
Lazily musing on the bank of a gently flowing stream,
I mulled upon life: was it reality or naught but a dream?
Then at the moment I pondered, what and why?
I heard a musical chorus from somewhere nearby.
Though immersed in reverie, I became aware,
it was Nature, I could hear borne upon the air.
Firstly the drumming, of a Woodpecker’s tattoo,
aroused me to ask of myself - what, where and who,
chose this peaceful, summer afternoon to play
harmonic rhapsodies, on this warm summer's day?
Next came the low humming of swarming bees
seeking a new home, in the overhanging trees.
With low-key droning, they enhanced the melody,
and provided basic fundamentals, to the rhapsody.
When a flock of songbirds, added their melodious tune,
I knew I was favoured by nature, that afternoon!
When frogs in chorus added their courting song,
to join Blue Jays shrilling, I knew it would not be long
before others would arrive to add their melodic call
to bestow talents, which would be welcomed by all.
Next Mourning Doves, singing of love in a soft duet,
gave cause to wonder, if perhaps I'd hear a minuet?
At this moment Skylarks, performing an aerial ballet,
reached new heights, in a brilliant, aerobatic, display!
This latest addition to the fast growing choral group
was the ultimate perfection. As members of the troupe
continued unabated, suddenly a clap of thunder heard,
brought the chorus to an end, and every beast, bird,
bee, insect and even the breeze was stayed!
As they all left, I was saddened and dismayed,
for Nature's orchestra that I had heard this day,
was possessed of talents, seldom heard this way.
It left me wondering if it had been a dream,
that I had enjoyed as I dozed by the stream?
But further thought was cut short, as the hush
was a reminder rain approached. So left in a rush!
Rhymer 26th August, 2016.
Flies swarm the dead corpse lying in the dirt.
A day passes without a flower or soft spoken word.
Footsteps approach, stop; shuffle back and forth,
kick the soil then meander on.
Blustery wind blows cold, whipping up debris
then laying it atop the stiff body.
The night air sings a shrilling melody till the
eyes of dawn.
Twilight yawns; a heap of compost now covers the
lifeless soul, footsteps return and imprint the mound
so neatly designed.
The cold wind cries as the trees stretch and bow in grief.
A stray dog, discovers the heaping debris and begins
to dig; recovers a bone then runs away.
This mortal world numb to this unknown entity
lying discarded on the freezing earth, unburied and
forgotten…
Copyright © 2004 By Caryl S. Muzzey
Gazing through the crystal clear morn,
Mirrors of curves in face,
Light winged feathers in the sky
Shrilling about yet another day;
With avid and sporty,
Besides discreet to humans.
Gazing through the crystal clear morn,
Dear of my heart stay ubiquitous,
Reflecting and revering the two curves
Albeit a day of dissatisfaction;
Replacing my heavy heart,
With his valley of lilies.
Gazing through the crystal clear morn,
Retrieving some moments in the far high
altitude,
A bliss of solitude of mind among the evergreen pines
There exist a tranquil paradise;
Fall cold chilly winds,
Holding our hands together to warm each
other.
Hundred steps I made
From soiled ground to the bridge of cursed shade
Three dungeons of heroic souls
Locked up over four hundred in shoals
Living souls of eddies drilling
Dying breaths of bodies shrilling
Hidden story of men of courage
To die in Atlantic is sweeter than bondage
Eighteen hundred and three was the year
Freedom is the peal in every man's ear.
Estephania was the Spanish horse,
with a chestnut coat and mane
and a lighter long tail...and she ate
alfalfa for strong teeth and bones.
She was domesticated, losing her liberty
and neighing she showed keen ability:
to spot dangers on a perilous path...
Estefania even stopped for a stranded cat.
In summertime she fed mostly on grass,
but bees stung her many times to protest,
and struggling to get them off her tail...
she hit a shrilling raven in the head.
And feeling sorry for the dying bird wincing,
Estefania licked his semi-open eyes...giving
him a little comfort as he folded his wings;
and whinnying she wept a river of tears.
Ideas conveyed in trails of semantics
Or moving over horse and bars in gymnastics
Tumbling, rolling, scribbling phonetics
Reeling, shrilling, scorching like ballistics
Quibbling over ideas and reams of whims
Rattling odd stories of soul's whines and trims
Yours is the power over lines and grims
Absolution or redemption atop one's dreamed
old gym hymns
This year will continue the worsening war
For the reader of this very poem
The media spoon-feeds sex and gore
To assure a desensitized, brainless syndrome
Leaving sheepy minds to wander and roam
As the sheep do roam, the wolves never stop
They keep the sheep dumb so they might eat them up
But the wolves are hiding in the midst of the chop
If we, sheep stay numb, their plan will develop
One step closer to the Anti-Christ worship
This war is one that is on your spirit
Evil will take anyone that is willing
Learn what is virtuous and what is illicit
Seek the Truth among all the shrilling
This year could be your last one living
fear to uncover a mysterious pain
reach a depth of darkness hell
she blocked me out, and
heaped hills within hills
masked her ravaged heart
with forceful smile
her lips stayed shut, yet
spoken without a sound
crumbling body ruins,
banned from a touch of love.
wistful eyes drowned
in a floating tears
throaty voices rambles
with a shrilling voices
in a haughty wall, oppressed,
is where she lays in frail
Eagles hover above shrilling and circling under clouds,
their curved beaks seek prey in the azure lake...
searching and swooping to snatch the Tundra swans
placidly swimming in the waters after daybreak.
The October wind isn't tame and it turns ferocious,
blowing and whistling over the water that riddles;
and maliciously insane, it speeds up to spread chaos...
bending trees, creating a chill that a small robin fears.
Twigs and branches are carried far and abruptly collide
with fragile umbrellas held by strong hands to minimize
damage, but leaves and dust get in everyone's eyes;
they burn and drip with tears, folks can't compromise.
The Great Lawns is swarmed with ugly debris that angers
teams who want to play baseball and enjoy their Sunday;
and standing and waiting for calm, nervousness increases
showing fits of anger, lifting their arms to curse their day.
The wild October wind still blows and howls, fooling and infuriating
the sad boys who planned another day of fun in Central Park;
and resembling trembling larks, on their calendar they mark
a Fall noon gone bad, the mad boy drops his bat and starts crying.
Winter has left, spring has arrived;
day has the same duration of night,
this astronomical event is too unique:
earth orbiting sun is utterly mystique.
a change of season is announced;
swallows engage in acrobatic flight!
Winter was only a bale of unhappy memories,
melting snow creates brooks that quickly flow;
look up, shrilling eagles and pretels fly so low...
how glad they are to return to their old nests!
Winter has left, spring has arrived; the lovebird's
happy song has been reawaken, and heard again
in the rustling trees and in the frantic, warm winds
that scatter white clouds across the brilliant Heaven!
Spring has lovely sunsets, the ones that thrill the senses;
sit down and contemplate them a while with true revere.
This vernal season has beauty and is a delight to the eyes;
watch the Equinox slowly illuminate the above Hemisphere!
Written on 3/29/2016
CHOREOGRAPHY of LIFE and DEATH
(Four times I have crossed swords with death up to now!)
The cheerful trumpet of
Miraculous life,
Imperatively sounded in
My mother’s life-giving womb,
Heralding with its melodic tune
Another animation:
MINE!
And as my innocent
Infantile heart, provoked by
The challenging divine call,
Started beating tenderly in
The rhythm of the never-dying cosmos
Thus making me
ALIVE!
The promising sound was
Still ringing in my delicate
Ears
Singing the marvelously hopeful song of life,
When the sound of a second trumpet, similar to the first,
Filled with its melancholic tune my tiny world,
Announcing the coming of calamitous death
Thus
Condemning me to die.
LIFE and DEATH beside me they stood,
Facing each other,
Tenderly, holding my hands
And claiming me as their child.
Life was the first to whisper into my ears,
Promises so many.
She talked to me about joy, happiness, love and
Procreation,
About thousands of other things that
She would like to offer.
Only a favor she asked in return;
To be hers and only hers forever!
-
When death heard all this, didn’t make any sound,
Only sardonically smiled at life first,
And then to me emphatically declared:
“The cup of joy you can never drink before you empty
that of sorrow, and no matter what life says to you, in the end,
you will be my very own.”
-
That’s the way my trip in this ephemeral world began,
With vigorous life, leading and tracing the promising way,
And death kept following her, just a few steps behind
Patiently, was waiting to catch up with her pace,
But,
As years, were passing fast one after the other,
Death was approaching rapidly each, and every day.
So the fight they had begun so many years ago,
Relentless war now becomes, with life still the
Winner.
Yet, the ill-fated date, unexpectedly, came to my great surprise,
When the cold hands of death I felt around my skeleton waist,
Squeezing the life out of me with all their force and main.
Eager to extinguish in me wished, the very last spark of life,
And as the shrilling wind of death was howling throughout
My body, I fell at once breathless, dead and
Still over the ground remained!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
2 February 2013
In a magical clearing just south of here,
There are fire breathing Dragons you will fear,
Their scales are sharp and their roars are shrilling,
The petite but strong Huffle-winks are there for the purpose of killing,
The horrid beasts that claim the land,
Riding on their Dragonflies hand in hand,
In the clearing size does not matter,
The tiny little heroes make evils plan shatter.
June 3, 2018