Best Sidles Poems
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The widow, dressed in glossy black,
glides from the shadows at the back.
A veil lies slack across her face
to mask the grief her features lack.
Possessed of an insectile grace,
she sidles to the open case
and like the reptile smile she bares,
this too, serves to defile the place.
Since jealousy insures she cares
less for his death than for her shares,
obsession next finds her engrossed
in leaving with the gold he wears.
A parasite, she'll man her post
and feed from this depleted host
'til she believes she's bled the most
she can from his departed ghost.
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Her face may show a rosy blush
Peering through a favorite bush.
Perhaps you'll greet with great delight
This newcomer dressed in purest white
Miss Morning Glory, sweet and lush.
Well known as bind-weed, Nature's thug.
She sidles up with gentle hug
Then follows with a deadly squeeze
And takes her neigbor's life with ease.
She is more evil than the slug.
So if you see a pretty vine,
With lovely blossom, so benign
Beware and with your garden knife
Take this imposter's wicked life.
Let greedy slugs upon her dine.
If you should choose to let her stay,
She will not ever go away.
She'll use your favorites for suppport
And bend them in a strange contort.
With their very lives they're forced to pay.
Your helpless beauties cannot shun
This grim tormentor and can't run.
As this anaconda steals their breath
They'll die a most distressful death.
Death by constriction isn't fun.
For "Flower" contest
Sad Sammy starfish, all alone on the beach
Wishes to find a soulmate, but no one is in reach
He looks around, raises his hands into the air
Is there a lonely starfish somewhere out there
Suddenly Sammy espies upon a rock
A stunning pink starfish wearing a frock
She's very beautiful of that he's aware
Has he found that special someone out there
He sidles over to her and soon catches her eye
Will she be his playmate; he looks up to the sky
Sammy wants hold her hand and ask her for a date
But which hand would he hold for this starfish has eight!
They head off for a walk together along the golden sand
Strolling along the beach hand in hand in hand in hand
Submitted to Story Poem Contest by Carol Eastman
26th April 2015
A desert flower shrouded in black,
she exudes the sweetness of a rose.
And sidles away from my approach,
her emotions hidden by a veil.
Dazzling eyes of cerulean hue
stare out at me from subtle shadows.
For it's her tradition and custom
that no man's gaze may fall upon her.
Her cloistered features hide from the sun,
camouflaging her uniqueness.
And forbade the mere sight of her smile,
my sad heart propositions the wind.
Please grant my heart this innocent wish,
that I may yet see her hidden face.
And remove the guise of the niqab,
so that my eyes may glimpse her beauty.
(Blank Verse)
5/16/2017
The snake sidles up to Eve
from God she soon seeks reprieve
With us yet, it slithers into Halls of Power
injects venom ~ brave leaders cower
Creation
women of age
sit in the sun and dream.
they knit up our world
on five flashing needles
click, click, click
a woman of age sits across the aisle,
she dreams in the sun
as it slants through the pane.
her pale hands move regardless of her thoughts.
yarn slides between her fingers
occasionally catching on weathered skin
click, click, click
softly serenades the hour away.
my glance sidles up to her
tries to fathom the history
behind those dreaming eyes
yarn thoughts weave our world.
five silver needles fly
I wonder if the bus will stop
when the clicking ceases.
Squinting into time
I grasp a distant folly
Slow dancing alone
It stares back at me
Shimmering in icy lust
This trembling pencil
It sidles closer
A touch of maple abides
Pancakes come to mind
The gauntlet is thrown
A motionless hawk falters
Its feathers ruffled
Adrift in the trees
The echo of lost moments
A dove high cooing
“It cannot be seen, cannot be felt,
Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt,
It lies behind stars and under hills,
And empty holes it fills,
It comes first and follows after,
Ends life, kills laughter.”
-J.R.R. Tolkien
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Place of Redemption is Darkness
unpetalling - - solace space unfolding
I sail drowsy dim seas without boat
or oars, conversing with walrus, whales
treading liquid tar silent, unseen
in distance a dog barks as I empty
bladder into ocean
underwater cables run fire
Darkness, Cloak of Protection
alchemy distilling gross, grime, goo
a thousand fingers unfelt sew broken
pieces of Life, loosen hooks, nooses
Angels of Death appear, wings
midnight blue, gathering loose threads
snapped nerves, false cues
I hear a night ‘plane flying passion
Here Crow visits sea darkly shining
untouching cast charming spells with
silent cymbals, unscathed holds sound
I covet cup of cold black coffee, unsmelt
swarthy, spilling on night waters —
hiding eels, oysters find their feeds
blankets have no feel, weave
unraveling, I perceive spindles
Coelacanth swim inquisitive incognito
individuated spirits shine poking
examine my tired flesh, as velvet
phantoms we attune to F o r e v e r
black cat runs sky, corrugated quarks
shatter moon smiles, its rock tumbling
rays on rippling nipples, navel upturned
circles spiral gene keys like piano notes
Place of Attunement is Darkness
no stagnation or pothole sidles, earthling placards, test tubes or empathy labels
shimmering umbra behind stars fall
dust upon midnight water smooth
gloom to-fro about unpaid karma
prison cell was scribbled with charcoal
I shout my name, nobody hears or cares
Humming, droning, buzzing black
holes beckon like blackboards with
light language — I recognise Cosmic
sound activating Heart, fall deeper into
b l a c k o u t __>>>
alpha kisses omega as breath leaves
returning in baby gurgles upon a
Bermuda Triangle ~ dog sniffs backyard
Darkness ignites laughter untasted
observing I pay Tolkien tribute, tinkling
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GOLD Placement Poem : Allpoetry
May 26 : Prompt :
What may you find in Darkness |
Confirm no AI
Third Placement: Premier
Sponsor : Seth Pina : May : Your Favourite
Bella's entrancing green eyes
stare wistfully into my own.
She's a windowsill jumper, bounding with grace
whose taken over my apartment as if it's her place.
She's such a pretty little kitty, a catnip dancer
who seems to see herself as a feline, divine.
She charmed me on the day I found her
but as a rescue, she needed time to come to me.
I know this is where she was meant to be.
Sweet girl with a history that remains a mystery
She never meows with sass when corrected,
and her purrs are soothing whispers in the night.
Bella brings me hours of great joy
so, I reward her loyalty with a toy or two.
Wearing a long-haired burnt umber coat,
she sidles up to me, anticipating a petting.
Bella bestows love that I'll not be forgetting
A lap-curler when she chooses to be social
but aloof which proves the theory to me...
'Sometimes cats just like being left alone.'
His own voice
talks over his head,
as if he were not there.
The load car radio
plays distant music.
Without thinking,
he changes channels,
hears only
the drumming road.
His eyes are low lit,
they see only feet
beyond his gripped hands.
Sunlight glares past thoughts,
he swivels right, sidles left,
soft shouldering unseen corners.
He is listening to a memory,
just a self-driving memory,
The car jolts –
returns him
back behind his eyes.
He is safe now
from all those passengers
he invited into his mind.
A seething summer morning in the oil boom trailer park
Oral Roberts on the radio with the gospel told by Mark
The reek of raw petroleum is everywhere around
We little oil trash urchins play marbles on the ground
He drives out here most every day around the hour of nine
Checking all the trailer windows for a little cardboard sign
He parks the canvas-covered truck and dons his leather vest
Throws a tow sack o'er his back and shows his Sunday best
Down the drive comes Danny, on his mighty motor bike
Hanging on the handlebars, his bigger brother Mike
The engine makes a ton of noise, a dandy double stroke
Two baseball cards and clothespins, hitting every spoke
Our ragamuffin gang was gathered, just waiting for the time
To contrive our evil strategy and carry out our crime
“The iceman, the iceman!”, I hear my sisters say
“Y'all be quiet!”, I hiss to them,” You'll give us all away!”
The iceman sidles round the truck and casts the canvas back
Scores a hundred-pounder block and cleaves it with a whack
Tongs the icy burden to his back and laughs at what is left
Chunks and chips of frozen jewels, the targets of our theft
We want so hard to play it cool and act like we don't care
All our mouths fill up with drool and it's tricky not to stare
The iceman winks his eye at me and hides a little grin
Then walks up to the trailer door where mother lets him in
The moment that the door slams shut, the bandits make their play
With eyes lit up, we whoop and shout like kids on holiday
We suck up all the chunks and chips and with our bellies iced
We swagger off to brag about our frosty jewelry heist
It's true we didn't have a lot, perhaps enough to just scrape by
But the visit from the iceman was like Christmas in July
And when I pass through oilfield country, it never ceases to amaze
How the scent of raw petroleum brings back those icebox days
January 30, 2013
He sidles up next to you,
so stealthily
It’s like he appeared out of thin air
Then breathlessly,
he gives you a Jimmy Stewart howdy do,
and starts air guitaring in his chair
Just when you were on the verge of
hitting the right vibe
with a cute little honey thing
This joker Jack Nicholson clone
starts shining on and on
And in your dark Alfalfa heart,
you wish this Spanky bag of bones
would be poof ... Aladdin gone
But you don’t wanna waste
one of your three date wishes on him,
so you ignore this glib talking Jungle Jim
In the meanwhile,
that pretty little woman is beginning to idly yawn,
as the flirtations have come to a tepid halt
That seven digit rooster ain’t gon strut come dawn,
a cell phone dropped call won’t be at fault
As Annoyous Interruptus cackles in your ear,
your road rage accelerator hits the sixth gear
But you remain calm, keeping your wits intact ...
trying to give him a subtle hint with a nodded wink
You motion for him to skedaddle away,
but Pepe Le Pew seems intent to stay
You mutter to yourself: man, does his cologne stink
With dull, blank eyes giving you a Lost in Space stare,
you flee swiftly, leaving love empty ... but you don’t care
Annoyous Interruptus
causes premature evacuation
Pester Interfereus
is the bane of dating stimulation
Annoyous Interruptus
makes flaccid all of your romantic overtures
Pester Interfereus
has caused many a late-night social club wars
Old Mr. Nicholson
totters across the town square
to the barbershop where
Clive has cut his hair
for the last forty years or so
Not hardly needing
even a trim
but pretending
he has a reason besides
the gossip waiting within
Inside, the shop smells like hair tonic
shaving cream and old leather
and the only noticeable things
that Clive's changed
in the last forty years
are the calendar, magazines
and gumball machine
Tall and gaunt, Clive stoops and
shuffles around the shop
a bit slow and shaky, but still
the cheapest and best around
as he drawls out the latest
scuttlebutt from all over town
Harry Van Hoorn leans
sideways in the old barber chair
hanging on every word like an old hound
ears flapping in the breeze
making an odd squinchy face as he
holds back a sneeze
bits of loose hair tickling his nose
While old Arnie Bruner
broods in the corner
his usual sour-faced self
like an old prune
all wrinkled and dried up
without a single good thing to say
“Well, hello Ed!” Clive stops and says
as Mr. Nicholson sidles in
he amiably waves his comb in the air
continuing to work on Harry's hair
thoroughly ignored as he
continues to speak
“Long time, no see!” Harry sings out
even though they were both
in here just last week
“Hiya Harry!” Mr. Nicholson says
in his high-pitched little whine
“Have you heard about-”
“Oh wait, lemme guess-” Arnie breaks in
in his growly bass
“...it's about that place... next door to-”
“Jim and Grace” Harry cuts in
“No, I was going to say-”
Mr. Nicholson chirps
a bit snappily
“It must be about Jenny Mae...”
Harry chortles gleefully
“No, it's gotta be about Faye!-”
Arnie belts out grumpily
Meanwhile, they're missing
all the scorching details
of the greatest scandal
as Clive croons on
amid the din
of his gabby, blabby customers
each desperate
to get a word in
Back and forth, in and out
with bickers and shouts
hums, warbles, trills, groans
solos and accidental duets
their crazy cacophony has become
a funny (albeit gossipy) kind
of barbershop quartet!
Her hair's so black, the blue is breaking through.
Centre-parted with furrow crown to fore,
Perfectly placed and kept in position
As pretty red ribbons bind the bunches.
Her face is crazed and tanned to leather.
Too many benders on Benidorm beach.
Her mouth is creased, possibly from decades
Of dragging long and hard on king-size tipped.
But her lips: Aah! A work of art in crimson.
Today she wears a short-sleeve summer frock.
Floral pattern with red to match her lippy.
Her batwings flap-flop like Labrador ears.
Her small white socks sit snug in hiking boots.
She is the little girl in the old lady.
Time corrupts. Her comfort, her addiction.
After her tour of town she sidles off
To swig Bushmills on a bus-station bench.
Guess who must help to carry her back home.
Feminized
“This subversion was accomplished by taking advantage of two kinds of vulnerability that women raised in our society tend to have. The first is the quality of self-sacrifice, a learned willingness to set their own interests aside and be used and even used up by the community...
The second kind of vulnerability trained into women is a readiness to believe messages of disdain and derogation.”
~ Mary Catherine Bateson, Composing a Life, p. 54, First Plume Printing, October, 1990
In the moment at which her lovely shoe has just reared back
After I’d come to a stop atop it
My temerity in having been shoved down the flight of steps
At the bottom of which she stands
Having resulted in annoying her dainty foot
What inspiration’s thrusting it forward
To bury itself amid ribs
No longer mine?
In the quiet conversations betwixt Sunday school and service
What inspiration’s guiding the gossip
About yet another young man
Following a call of seduction
Followed by a call to the police
And the final call to a court that believes her every word
No longer his?
In the august halls of corporate consummation
Where products once designed to last
Crafted to provide quality service over years
Via jobs that straddled whole careers
What inspiration’s driving the quarterly cycles
Moody and impertinent as menstrual periods confined
No longer home?
In the light like it’s like light of heavenly grace
Where before an audience of like familiar litsos rolls or sidles
The most lovely young devotchka you could ever hope in all your jeezny
Whom Alex the large would like to have right down there on the floor
With the old in-out real savage
What inspiration’s coming skorry as a shot
Making him want to like heave in entrailing keeshkas
No longer his?
In the society rendered bereft of male vigor and energy
What inspiration’s asserting steady direction
Toward care and heartfelt protection
Of those weaker more wayward of less physical capacity
Shifting drifting changing winds in exchange for brash audacity
Armchair sports the glib vestige of masculinity
A world that once could’ve had a purpose
No longer ours?
~ Thanks Always Returns