Best Skewer Poems
Once significant and alluring, your luster faded.
Perhaps it was the treachery in hollow eyes jaded.
Was there ever a light
in a soul dark as night?
Promises of love only heralded grief;
faith I once had turned to disbelief.
She was younger, pretty, but above all newer.
Agony in my heart came from betrayal’s skewer.
How could I blame her when I knew that soon
your allegiance would change like the inconstant moon?
She would then feel the fickle pitchfork of pain -
those knots in her stomach twisted by emotions feigned.
Only now can I see you for what you are.
Anger settled; no longer do we spar.
Bitterness made way for resignation again.
Maybe I shall once more learn to trust men.
Then I can guide your latest castaway
and ease the surging sting of her dismay.
Your fate rests on a tremulous shore
where, as looks fade, you can offer nothing more.
*Written November 21, 2014
Towering high the pine tree spies
Darkness gleaming across the skies.
All-embracing limbs it reaches
In all directions it beseeches.
Yearning for ominous actions to end
Locked they hide; secretly they offend.
Veiled is the door guarding treacherous fate
Never exposing; hold and isolate.
Looming colossal to pointed peak
Shadows adorn branches yearning to speak.
Piercing the court’s air the almighty giant cries
Wind: Roar. Needles: Skewer. Nothing it denies.
I stoked the flames with another gnarled branch as its sparks popped and crackled out a song into the silence. Just a cold and lonely evening of dinner and poetry; I wanted nothing else. With a skewer full of Brats and a waiting blanket of mustard-laden bun, I held bulging Brats in the dancing flames, till it was a lovely shade of mahogany; I poured a glass of Cabernet bliss and dined on hot succulent and spicy Brats and toured Jim Morrison’s mind; as warmth penetrated my aching, arthritic bones…ah…
Rally around the campfire
in the dark of a summer night.
Tell some interesting old stories
and cook by a campfire light.
Skewer some slender juicy hotdogs
maybe puffy marshmallows too.
Make them crisp and really gooey
to last until the blaze is through.
*************************
Once knew a dragon with a tale
of a sweet damsel in distress.
Caged dragon fell madly in love
so knitted a sleek wedding dress.
Damsel said, “I cannot marry
a love sick dragon in a cage.
For I am just a mere sixteen
and you are more than middle age.”
The dragon looked rather perplexed
didn’t know what to say or do.
He stomped, roared, and snorted fire
“I want to wed your mother, not you”!
The damsel looked extremely shocked
to say the least, she was outraged.
Her mother has not said a word
on being in love or engaged.
The girl turned bright red from anger
that he was not thinking of her.
She was jealous to say the least
what she did next caused quite a stir.
Girl found key to unlock cage door
climbed inside and locked it behind.
Mother returned, found teen daughter
quite caged and forever confined.
Moral:
Don’t wish for something that should be yours in the first place,
you might end up with it…
A way to ward off suitors is to lock your teen daughter up with a dragon…
Copyright © 2011 By Caryl S. Muzzey
I'll tell ye of me life as a pirate
I knows ye sees me as some old codger
But when I was a young'n matey
I sailed 'neath the Jolly Roger!
Oh, it's truth I be tellin' ye now
'N ye may think that I be a loon
But I talk so rever'ntly 'bout me ship 'n Cap'n
For in truth, 'E made us dance a lively tune.
'E wore a patch o'er one eye
'N had a hook where fingers grow.
When we 'eard the thumpin' of 'Is peg leg on deck
We knew some ship 'd be given up 'er cargo.
We'd be a'squintin' 'ard at the 'orizon
'N 'Ed call for 'Is telescope to measure
If the sail that we'd come upon
Mightn't be a ship full o' a'rn kind o' treasure.
Then we'd sail up nice 'n cozy
A'fore 'Ed run up the bones on black.
But by that time matey
They could not withstand a'rn attack.
"Shiver me timbers, All hands on deck!" , came 'Is shout
For 'E was a Taker 'n ne'er a Giver.
It's many a time me eyes 'd see 'Im
Cuttin' out some poor soul's liver.
Oh, some tried to fight,
The foolish tried a runnin'
But the Cap'n made well sure
They'd get a'rn full broadside gunnin'.
We'd jump o'cross the ratlines with daggers a'tween a'rn teeth
Oft times we'd skewer the entire crew
Then take 'ER plunder aboard a'rn vessel
'N sink t'othern down to Davey Jones...so thar'd behind be left no clue.
Then the Cap'n set sail for Tortuga
Thar be plenty of Rum 'n Women for us thar
Ye still don't believe I was a pirate?
All I can say is..."ARRRRRRRRRR"!
Page 14
It took time to remove
The stones that formed the arch
That’s the place above the gates
Under which their armies marched
But we remained very quite
Observing through the cracks
Drinking bottled wine
And nibbling on some snacks
They finally cleared a way
And opened the gates wide
Then laid their hands upon the ropes
To pull our ass inside
There were times, I felt cunning
And times I felt amused
That men of such intellect
Could fall for such a ruse
But, be it as it may
My concern is only this
To burst out of this ass
And take a good long p**s
I know what you’re thinking
And I’d like to keep it clean
But as you know how stories go
I have to paint the scene
Page 15
When they got us in the city
There was music in the air
The Trojan started dancing
Food and drink were everywhere
There were pigs biting apples
Above the flames formed in a pit
With every sort of creature
They could skewer upon a spit
Oh, and wine flowed from fountains
And confections by the score
The soldiers ate and drank
Till they couldn’t feast , no more
Their priest stopped by at midnight
To bless our parting gift
And I christened it myself
If you kinda catch my drift
It was early morning hours
When the last ones fell to sleep
So we opened up the hatch
And we began to creep
Down a rope, we slid slowly
To the ground we made our way
To the gates that we must open
At last I’ll have the day
To be continued..............
stroke, roll,
stroke, roll,
breath
climbing along the water's surface,
body turning on a skewer,
breathing bubbles,
exhaling fully,
metronomic to a viewer
stroke, roll,
stroke, roll,
breath
fingertips, wrist and elbow angled
each below the other in turn
break the surface
then pushing forward
spinning the torso in return
stroke, roll,
stroke, roll,
breath
catch before the full arm extension
pulling along the "railway track"
feel the water
hard on the forearm
and spinning the body right back
stroke, roll,
stroke, roll,
breath
continue the stroke under the 'pit
pulling the elbow high and clear
uncock the wrist
pull with the triceps
whilst pushing the hand to the rear
stroke, roll,
stroke, roll,
breath
lips breaking the top of the water
eye spying the rope of the lane
one sharp breath in
the wrist leads the way
to start it it all over again
stroke, roll,
stroke, roll,
breath
If you draw your sword so sharp
To skewer me on a night so dark
Stop and ponder what might befall
If my words you chance to spall
A bouquet of thorns, for you I’ll sow it
Take warning fair, beware the poet
I’ll drag your hair out from your crown
Set it aflame to render down
Flesh from bones and skull and pate
Your dome will be my dinner plate
If for your body you care or fret
Take warning fair, beware the poet
I’ll fry your kidney, spleen and lung
Then garnish it with nose and tongue
Your innards I will with pestle pound
And feed them to my trusty hound
Who’ll lap them up with zeal I bet
Take warning fair, beware the poet
I’ll carve your shin bone to a spoon
You’re ears will become two spittoons
Fine shredded cheeks and coarse sliced eyes
Can become lip smacking pies
Each digit will make a fine brochette
Take warning fair, beware the poet
I know ‘twill be a fantastic feast
For family and friends, ten at least
We’ll toast stupidity with your blood
And finish up with sweet, heart pud
It’s no false threat that I emote
Take warning fair, beware the poet
Turkeys shuffle about, strolling around the farm.
Each passing morning, one day sounding the alarm,
Who would it be this year Sally, Ted, or Mom?
However, this season was secured, ready for farmer Tom.
Thanksgiving was on the horizon, they were conniving.
Fred the youngest Turkey, had a plan he was comprising
Fred, now the leader of clan, grab farmer Tom right now.
Threw him down on the ground, hypnotized him and how.
Prepared words for that day, he said Tom you want Cow.
Beef tasted better, more then any flapping turkey or sow.
He looked deep into farmer Toms eyes and said very quick.
Start a new tradition, skewer the meat, and grill on a stick.
Your family is much bigger, needing more protein to eat.
Look at all these pigs and turkeys, they will never defeat.
So lean and minuscule, families hunger will never be beat.
Now get up and butcher a cow, time for family to meet.
This began a new tradition, for this time of year of cheer.
Next Thanksgiving time, Fred would hypnotize for deer.
Turkeys danced and sang; Fred kept his pride sincere.
So look out next year, farmer Tom, Deer hunting, is clear.
Athlete kabob meat to skewer
Olympic games meet the sewer
Those ratings too flat
Create new dangers that
Pander to the TV viewer
COME ON DOWN TO THE GILDED AGE
By Roy Merritt
Come on down to the Gilded Age
We’ve crawled our way back
And we’re coming hard and heavy this time
So brace for the attack
Come on down to the Gilded Age
We got us a new status quo
Been wastin’ time for certain
Steal it all now and go
And it won’t be long
We’ll be takin’ your home
No it won’t be long
Before we take your home
Come on down to the Gilded Age
A new feller has made the scene
His appeal is rather uncanny
And downright obscene
Come on down to the Gilded Age
They love him north, and south
The Rust Belt for his promises
In Ole Dixie for his mouth
And it won’t be long
We’ll be takin’ your home
No it won’t be long
Before we take your home
Come on down to the Gilded Age
We got a reality show dictator
Whose toughest when he’s tweeting out
A big bad bully third grader
Come on down to the Gilded Age
No troublesome Mark Twain
To skewer us with his pen
The Fourth Estate is just inane
And it won’t be long
We’ll be takin’ your home
No it won’t be long
Before we take your home
Come on down to the Gilded Age
Hear the crazy see the snakes
But they give me a fearful image
Of the future United States
Come down to the Gilded Age
Your money or your life
We’ll be takin’ that money
The church be takin’ your wife
And it won’t be long
We’ll be takin’ your home
No it won’t be long
Before we take your home
Come on down to the Gilded Age
No Roosevelt but a Trump
But FDR he cared about us
Ole Donald knows we are chumps
Come on down to the Gilded Age
I hope you folks enjoy his games
As they’re about their looting
And settin’ us all up in flames
And it won’t be long
We’ll be takin’ your home
No it won’t be long
Before we take your home
Come on down to the Gilded Age
Stand up and deliver
For almost fifty years now
They’ve sold us down the river
Come on down to the Gilded Age
In history they’ll take note
On election day in 2016
We voted to cut our throat
And it won’t be long
We’ll be takin’ your home
No it won’t be long
Before we take your home
Wood Storks rock! They skewer
the word purer with a white-
on-white the envy of any housewife's
Monday wash, or laundry delivered home
by women with baskets on their heads
after drying in the noonday sun
in which only mad dogs and Englishmen go out,
(or those with no Sears Roebuck
connections).
Take heed, Ye hawkers of detergent
wares, lascivious for new insignia.
Send old trademarks to old obliv-ia,
Take a winged design to fly away grime.
And, while you're at it, add the color
red for bloodshed in the marketplace,
perfect hue for Madison Avenue.
In tropic times, our storks,
shelve safe haven from the branches
on which no one lays laundry-- only their
flawless selves. They know a storm
with a woman's name can put to shame
all others, and when Beryl's done
and on the run, they return to bond in
motherland, the moment seized:
a genetic lust for oedipal trees.
Have you ever been to the Arctic
and heard the "Tickling of the Ivories"?
That is the time when the Monodons
joust each other with their singular parries.
They have one thing in common...
A singular tooth that the males wear with pride.
They can swim, dive, and breach the water
on their 18 ft. plus sides.
They can move swiftly like the dolphin
when thru the water they glide.
They are not looking to skewer a meal
as in the ocean they hide.
What are these special creatures
that roam the seas so deep.
Their tusks were hunted in the middle ages
as Unicorn Horns for Kings to keep.
Related most closely to the Beluga
Linnaeus described them in 1758.
But they were well known hundreds of years before
As Vikings sought their tusks so great.
They do not eat Krill as do most whales
But dine on Halibut and Cod.
Their tastes are truly exotic
As they hunt within their pod.
They click and clack to each other
when they do communicate.
The future is getting tenuous
As to what will be their fate.
These are beautiful creatures whose 'Porpoise'
may be related to them all.
They have been oft featured on the Nature Channel,
We know them simply as "Narwhal".
I QUIT!!
Just for a moment
every now and then
I tender my resignation,
tell the boss to go to hell.
Revolt….against……everything
righteously skewer everyone,
succumb to the vile distortions
obliterating all beauty.
Just for that moment – sink
into a pit of despair – wallow
in the bile of hopelessness – rage
against the devolution of man.
Just for a moment – I cry
lost tears searching for their pain,
I curse – the scorching, squalid, spit
of lifeless prayers – and pray-ers.
Moments pass as moments do
condemned to move on – to renew
for moments cannot quit- nor can I
as I am in – and of – each moment.
John G. Lawless
2/4/2016
My mysterious life in these elusive underwater surroundings
Keeps my clan of beings alert and cautious of vigilant threats.
As I travel ahead of the others in search of sonar echo soundings
My large companions shelter me from danger and unforeseen duress.
Our ability to communicate is both charmed and miraculous
But somehow natural yet strangely foreign at the same time.
We share a methodically linked core of something fabulous
As we couple our lives so differently in these waters of prime.
Keeping my species alive is an ultimate challenge of sacrifice
I skewer large specimens to first feed the females and young.
Danger approaches attempting to devour on it's own appetite
I must lure the forthcoming away by devising a disturbing flung.
The jaws of the shark opens and then bites, barely missing my tail
My humpback ally heroically aids to accommodate the safety of my kind.
We rapidly scurry to our refuge in the deeper depths below without fail
Once again I scout onward to assure our lives of existence intertwined.
Contest~~Personify Any Animal of Your Choosing~~