Best Slogging Poems
The blackened veins of parlor’s scent.
The roses blue and weeping spent.
The dismal pen — a slogging snake.
My Muse Once Sleeping Is Awake.
A harbinger hung on the door —
This shrouded wreath — a heartless core.
The piercing words, a pounding stake.
My Muse Once Sleeping Is Awake.
For if I’d only been dreaming . . .
Then why my lips senseless screaming?
The serpent raps, I feel its shake —
My Muse Once Sleeping Is Awake.
The faint of dread, when quill was dry,
I wondered if it’s breath would sigh.
No nightmares please! It’s my mistake!
My Muse Once Sleeping Is Awake.
7/10/2019
Writing Challenge 1, July 2019 - Repeating Refrain Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Dear Heart
Title and refrain provided by sponsor
Checked by howmanysyllables.com
Categories:
slogging, death, writing,
Form:
Rhyme
Crazy Mick the Irishman, with trademark bike and overcoat,
wheeling his way back into town, classed as a tarnished silly goat.
His hair was long and curly; spoken words barely understood.
His manner gave impression he's up to no flamin’ good.
Shopkeepers grew an extra eye toward their advertised outside,
watching Mick out on the street as up and down he'd ride.
This man was on outcast; different to the folks they know,
a little dirty; is a vagrant, and he acts a little slow.
Mick’s first stop the butchers shop; bargained for a ‘snag’ or two.
The butcher he felt pity, so threw in an extra few.
This pleased Mick no end as he left the butchers door.
His feast was quick and final; ate the meat been given raw.
The pub through past experience had little time for Mick,
for beer became his nemesis; urged forward his fighting trick.
Too many times Mick’s antics had forced him to the street,
with bloodied nose, blackened eye; always getting beat.
Compromising was the bottle sale - take half a dozen and then go.
Sit over by the railway line and then drink them nice and slow.
Young kids without feelings teased Mick in his toxic state,
laughing as he chased them, for he'd stagger and gyrate.
When Mick disappeared, our town wondered where he went.
Had he found a home! Had he died! Where has his time been spent!
It seems in potato season when the pickers were required,
Mick was slogging in the paddocks where potato tops had died.
The 'swampy' people honoured Mick, for he had no fear of sweat.
He'd bend his back the furthest; earnt the spud farmer’s respect.
They saw a different person than the townie’s man un-trusted.
Hard working in the hot sun; not the drunk so often busted.
Mick perished one cold winter, alone inside a pickers shack.
Long after picking season ended, so what had brought him back?
He must have known his life was ebbing; left for where he felt no shame.
Spud farmers heads bowed 'round his grave - but not one townie came.
Categories:
slogging, discrimination,
Form:
Rhyme
The winning touchdown scored that fall – lingered,
As fresh a memory of that night,
As when the sound of the crowd filled his ears,
And her kisses were warm and deep.
Only to have all that was planned and lay ahead,
Turned upside down and changed forever,
By a draw with no heart or conscience,
And the power to hurl him a world away.
To an ancient land turned killing-field,
A Grunt – slogging through jungles and paddies,
Always scared, yet true to his duty and buddies,
Amid a carnage that numbs his every fiber,
And with every letter, package or paper from home,
Compounding his hurt and feelings of loss,
His thoughts turn to why he is here,
But he is here; so, he will do what is asked of him.
And to return to the states is his greatest wish,
But he sees the lists of MIAs and KIAs,
And does what he must do,
To ease his pain and struggle on through.
He might make it home and pick up the pieces,
Of a life so drastically altered,
Or his final glory just might be, those “Friday Night Lights”,
Pale pink lipstick and warm fall kisses.
Categories:
slogging, america, confusion, devotion, fear,
Form:
Free verse
Christmas, me in my red wagon
Slogging in tears, later you forget
Am I a full person?
Blown black pepper stings your eyes
You strike me, the ambivalence aches
Covered mouth laugh-sharing from now on
Reattached you escape childish dreams
I offer to banish parts of me
Warriors on the horizon, plump and ascending
You appear similar, soul less, smaller
I scurry, looking for your parts
I miss them
At your escape hatch I make room
I hide in your obscurity
Broken in all endeavors
Waiting in luxurious swamps
Emeshment preventing loneliness
I wanted to hurt you too
Categories:
slogging, beauty, childhood, dedication,
Form:
Free verse
Winter Cabin Reality
by Odin Roark
The storm door
Improperly closed
Bangs violently
The clapboard shedding
White paint chips
Wounds without first aid
Flecks of age
Mixing with the drifting snow
Walls shudder with the gusts
Windowpanes rattle their death threat
Should one shatter
Beware flood gates of frozen forever
When will guardians arrive
The stewards of their weary retreat
Providing solace for this place
We so willing endure
Harsh punishment
This loneliness of disuse
The fear of abandonment
Looming
Looming
Always looming
Such anxiety for...
In order...
In order to...
Appease elements restless
Unhappy
Feeling forsaken
The stove sad
Laboring for no one
The refrigerator longing
Waiting like a giant petri dish
Anxious to be opened and examined
Bed covers squirm amidst
Nature's innate seekers of shelter
Six-leggers pass four-leggers in the night
Perplexed
Wondering
Where is everyone?
Field mice
The basements fortress of faith
Anticipate the happy slogging
Of drunken feet above
The excess food celebrated not
Falling through spaces of beamed flooring
Affording reserves for future seasons of need
Thus awaits the wilderness shelter
Determined to remain creative
As temperatures drop even lower
On this little respected life-saver
Multiple-soul make-over haven
Urban's satellite arbiter for sanity
Earnestly it awaits yesterday's loyally
Its generational-visitor relay
Its reason to hold on
Its inducement
To stay whole
Just one more year
Crunching snow outside raises hope
Two mice
Three spiders
One gentle squirrel share
"Got to be more than a bear"
Categories:
slogging, absence,
Form:
Free verse
Flowers climb the branches
exhibit their full blossom
flowers visit drawing rooms
They visit temples
and then they vanish.
defying fixed shapes
rivers hasten to no destination.
carrying countless goals
roads get lost in a maze.
Unceasingly
I stand
holding the selfsame earth.
Many couples came under my shade
and rose to ecstatic heights
of imagination,
tired porters
put down their baskets
by my side
and slept out dreams
like lives of longings.
children who hopped branches,
left as they grew
carrying mementos
to remind childhood.
Wild winds’ whirling clusters
whispered a while
perching on my leaves
and raced towards horizons
chasing sky,
chicks hatched on my branches
grew wings and flew out
carrying tiny lives,
travelers who arrived
passed out from exhaustion
but they came round under my shade
and carried themselves away.
Many a time
slogging me through the day
the sun sought to chase me away
from my standing position,
rain battered me into water
threatening to wash me down,
storm nearly blew me by force
by melting me into air
somewhere like itself.
Rays carrying rainbows
could not stay with me
sounds of Naumati band and
monotonous conch-shell drones
rose in sky by turns
and faded somewhere.
Traveler living in a distance
four days from here
before leaving home
thinks of relaxing under my shade
and catching up with his journey,
birds herald the spring
resolved to hatch on my branches,
roads part to meet here
in case they got lost,
dusts and shriveled leaves
take a breather behind my leaves
escaping chasing hurricane.
soil a muddy flow hit by rain
turns to its essence holding my roots.
lightning dancing with winking eyes
continued to tempt
thunderbolts played threat games
clouds acted as though
they were splashing water
to wake me up.
Never did I feel like
leaving this place
and walk.
---
Translated from Nepali by Prof. Abhi Subedi
Categories:
slogging, tree,
Form:
Free verse
Whiting a poem without the lette r
The lette r on the Macbook Po laptop compute
doth not function, thus I connected
an extenal keyboad coutesy USB pot,
and need to each ove ight hand ove left
and attempt to type the coect key
most often pessing othe then the coect lette
quite an impossible mission
afte daylight fades to dakness,
when dak shadows
glom the inteio light of the bedoom
essentially esembling the oute limits
of the twilight zone
whee the edge of night encoaches
challenging me to caft
an undestandable silly vese
letting these finges of mine
appea to andomly skitte
acoss the qwety keyboad,
but quite an effot went into painstaking effot
to shae how difficult communication would become
if (fo no paticula hyme o eason,
only twenty lettes compised
the Anglo Saxon alphabet,
o wose case scenaio
omitting the most common lette
namely the vowel e,
which does esult
in a baely compehensible output
of essentially esulting in utte gibbeish
pue gobbledygook to the most skilled English majo,
yet I must add how humoous the esultant output,
yet completely lacking sense and sensibility
gatis yous tuly (me),
an aticulate, chaming,
eudite, fun loving, pinteresting,
wodsmith yielding an outcome shifting
fom the idiculous to the sublime,
yet inteestingly enough
an anonymous eade
can fill in the blank omissions,
but afte slogging thu just this bief liteay example,
one could not imagine dagons
getting into a fiestom
tying to ead a stoy book about mythical beasts
that oam acoss the teestial fimament
as happened to be the case
when dinosaus dominated
as species numeo uno
duing the Mesozoic Ea,
also known as the "Age of Dinosaus,"
which spanned from appoximately
252 to 66 million years ago,
which ea divided into thee perods:
the Tiassic Period (252-201 million yeas ago),
the Juassic Peiod (201-145 million yeas ago),
and the Cetaceous Peiod (145-66 million yeas ago),
and fo whateve explanation Dinosaus became extinct
at the end of the Cetaceous Peiod,
with the exception of avian dinosaus,
which ae the birds that exist today.
Categories:
slogging, absence, adventure, appreciation, blessing,
Form:
Free verse
Twittered Via Chilled Wren
At Valley Forge, Pennsylvania
Prior carte blanche to confessing illicit
extra-marital affair
I embolden tomb ache
elicit, and baldly bare
faced laid out some
of the sordid details clear
embarrassed at one escapade
in particular constituting dear
peppy's questing randy romping caper
necessitating vigilance 'ere
a park ranger, (or other unsuspecting
winter weather way
Farer attired in gear
adequately bundled
cold as a witch's tit
seasoned trooper)
reluctantly repeated here
(unforgettable if only be
cause this "FAKE" Casanova ace
thee Missus i.e.wife)
did conversationally chase
beseeched, hen pecked,
and implored me NOT to erase
boot to recount with (itty bitty)
Monty Python glory, a straight face,
that one particular amazingly grace
obviously penned up,
and not in the write
mind (pre poetry daze),
which scurrilous anecdote
did (and still does) in vite
guffawing, sans
peculiar public philandering,
with atavistic cave man
designs tried to unite
where daunting phallus spite
confronting Arctic Vortex when right
lee let loose from pants
froze like a little popsicle quite
purposely remained flaccid
leaving me in a penile plight
when trying to hump
(standing up like a good Knight
comically ridiculous travesty)
With Barbara B****, light
of adventurous Green Beret spirit, the
Unabashed MILF about average height
fifty years, whose busty bosom
silicone breast implants
tell tale viz radiation
and chemo therapy fight
(resulting from post
Ductal Carcinoma in situ)
needless to tell
nary an erectile spell
Asper tinker soldier
tailor spy didst quell
basic animal instinct,
and feral gonadal horniness
with intent to consummate sexual intercourse
according tummy ought to occur,
cuz that blustery air
mirroring said day when hell
nearly froze over invoking
intervention from Cain and/or Abel.
Thus when prick remained
limp and nearly frost bitten
(at a boulder christened cock rock),
aye frostily smitten
slogging wet sneakers, thru
knee high snow...now, no mo' tubby written.
Categories:
slogging, 12th grade, animal, beautiful,
Form:
Slogging swampy bogs, suction at the feet
Like pushing through molasses with a spoon
No evidence of forward progress made
Mired in a morass of foul decay
Vile filth closing in on what once was
Trapped in horrid ever-present now
Who can say what tomorrow brings?
What does tomorrow even mean?
The hands of time are bound up tight
Fetid vapors rushing up
Senses overwhelmed, recoil
Oppressive, suffocating
Forward has no meaning
No option for retreat
The world is closing in
Rudderless and lost
Disoriented
Every way is down
Such heaviness
Stoops the shoulders
Buckles the knees
Despairing
Silent screams
Go unheard
Hopeless
Endless
Nightmare
No
Way
Out
—————
For the 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 11 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney
Written 07/13/2022
Categories:
slogging, depression,
Form:
Free verse
Today, when I look back at the years gone by...
Precious moments of my life I lost, I try to think.."why ?"
Planning for the future of my family,I lived my life...
Playing a mother to my kids and a loving wife..
My children meant the world to me..
"Special Someone", I wanted them to be..
My husband ,always happy, I wished to see..
Very Successfull , I wanted him to be.
Family to me mattered the most..
On their achivement , I wanted to boast.
Our future be happy and secure- -my only intention,
In this process, to myself I paid no attention.
My health, I neglected a lot,
My appearance, I totally forgot.
Slogging my life out ,all the money I saved..
To a happy future, the path I paved.
Today I feel I have achieved a lot..
But I also can see what all I lost .
Precious moments of my life ,
Where, I could be" Just Me", not a mother or wife..
"Live for today" as everyone says..
"Really possible?" , I wonder in every which way..
At times I feel " I too should have tried..
But would it be possible, and could I ?
Categories:
slogging, life, life, happy, future,
Form:
Rhyme
Sonorous, saporous symphonies: strong;
soothingly spirited, sublime sweet songs.
Satisfied sigh, sees salubrious springs;
sharp, sizzling sunburn scream: saltwater stings.
Searing sharp satirists, snarkily snide;
subtle smart sophists show soft, specious side.
Skimpy, salacious shows sell sexy spice;
somber, sad serials scarcely suffice.
Seismic'ly sensitive subsurface screens;
substandard systems: severe shakes scarce seen.
Scaling slick surfaces, snow-scented slides;
slogging sludge swamps, smelling stinky sulfides.
Sans similarities, superimposed;
sequencing syllables, simple supposed.
----------
for the Begin with a Letter Poetry Contest
sponsored by Angela Tune
written 06/28/2022
an alliterative 'sonnet', with aabb pattern and 10 syllable lines
updated/extended from a shorter, earlier poem
Categories:
slogging, sound,
Form:
Rhyme
Holy mystery of love,
as we give thanks for your presence
when love flows like a river,
so we are grateful for Your presence
when love refuses to flow,
when love is slogging work,
and even when love is painful.
It is still love, and it is still charged with Your energies.
You inspire us to make our love even wider,
to open its door even to the woundedness
of those we love,
to admit honestly to our wounds
and defective hearts,
to patiently allow time to pass: for healing.
Love can be lost we know, Holy One,
and we ask Your blessing on what love we have.
Even though it be imperfect,
still it towers over everything else in our life.
Amen
Categories:
slogging, love, love,
Form:
Light Verse
What! A Divorce? Why?!
What do you mean
you want to move on?
Do you want to break up
this marriage of 25 years?
Now! After two teenagers at home?
What do you mean
you need more space?
You live in a mansion
for Pete's sake!
What? You want
to do your things,
Experience life,
Meet new people,
See new places?
Well, who's stopping you?
You have been pretty much
on your own all these years,
And here, I have been slogging
like a donkey 24/7/365,
making more money than
you can find ways to spend.
I knew not when
our kids grew up,
I worked hard--
Day in and day out,
So you and kids can live
a life of comfort and luxury,
Now you wanna leave me, gee!
And take half of MY blood and sweat?!
Nah, not even a dime!
No sirree Bob. Nope.
As long as I am alive,
Not a chance. Not a thing.
Zero, Zip, Zilch, Nada!
I'll fight tooth and nail...
Only over my dead body!
(P.S.: Millionaire John Doe was tragically killed
in a single car crash apparently of brakes failure.
He's survived by his wife and two kids.)
~"Poem with a chilling twist" contest by Frank Herrera
Categories:
slogging, divorce,
Form:
Verse
**not to start lying in wait to exact revenge on those
who cruise down my little street late at night
playing outrageously loud rap music,
jarring me awake and sorely testing my Christianity~~
**not to check out a 500-page library book,
read 50 pages, lay the book aside for two weeks,
then have to start over because I forgot what I read~~
**to start systematically throwing some things away
and organizing what I keep so that, when I’m gone,
my folks won’t be forced to spend six months
slogging through reams and stacks of STUFF
wondering Why did she keep THIS? . . . How could
she do this to us?! . . . I REALLY need to toss my old
diaries. (I haven’t always been a sedate old lady!)
**to stop falling asleep sitting almost straight up in my
rocker recliner, causing me to awaken three hours later
temporarily paralyzed from head to toe
**to stop staying up too late on Saturday nights,
causing me to get so sleepy at church on Sunday
that my head droops forward or~~even worse~~back,
then jerks violently into place, mortifying me.
Categories:
slogging, new year,
Form:
Free verse
Virus', virus everywhere on the earth
But where has corona taken its birth?
A tiny microorganism but with bulldozer effects
Threatening humanity with its destructive magnet
No single soul can live at ease
With the widespread of the killer disease
Where is the virus's origin?
Scientists are slogging to discover a vaccine
Although it started with the Chinese people
The whole world is fighting for its survival
Spreading from country to country
Corona virus is achieving worldwide victory
God is manifesting His wrath
Indeed humanity is heading towards an inevitable crash.
Superpowers are powerless
Famous leaders are turning hopeless.
International economy is at stake
Corona virus is applying the brake
All of us are exposed to the virus
Life is becoming more and more dangerous
So let's pray the Lord to eradicate this calamity
And forgive us for any atrocity
Can we expect a brighter tomorrow?
Our chances of survival are very narrow
Categories:
slogging, 1st grade, birth, earth,
Form:
Rhyme