Best Sluggishly Poems


Premium Member Tiny White Pearls

Out in the freezing rain
Hesitates gray morning 
Between winter's end and
Spring's early intentions.

Leafless barren trees
Lining up on my street
Glitter sluggishly
Tiny frozen droplets
Hanging from twigs and stems 
Resembling white gems.

Until young golden rays
Reflect in puddles,
Exposing to my view
Growth of green buds
Emerging from nodes
Where moments before
I saw tiny white pearls.

March 1, 2019
Placed first: March 2019 week 1 contest by Brian Strand
Categories: sluggishly, nature, rain, sunshine,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member The Ocean Beckons -POTD

The waves crushing her tiny body with striking blows
White creamy wash caresses her golden skin as the wave slows
Moving sluggishly towards the horizon
Because of a recurring vision she hopes she’ll arise in
Her feet digging deep into the sand as it sinks between her toes
Emersed, with arms folded she prepares and off she goes
The cool oceans breeze kisses her beet-red cheeks
It knows what she’s come for and what she seeks
Sunshine drips onto coppery auburn locks shimmering, it lifts 
A pale honey-wheat straw sunhat spins away and drifts
Almost completely submerged in salty brazen waters 
Compelled at this point with the nauticus mythic plotters      
Shut against blaring sunrays are her deep emerald eyes
Her sunburnt face gazing up at vanilla skys 
She meditates on what had before appeared, a glimpse
Of the siren with long flowing raven hair and other nymphs
Teeth chattering to tapping sounds like wooden castanets do
Contain her trembling lips she can’t, they turn purplish merlot-blue
Shaking from an Autumn’s cold spell, she imagines she’s a mermaid       
But diving in opaque murky silt wasn’t what she had expected
Her bare flesh emerging from impure poisonous rot of green 
Blood red ripples dripping from the clouds that are unseen
Neither she nor the fierce Cyrene, Apollos wife the naiad should dread
Numbing overcomes her at last she hears the siren singing in her head
Paralyzing fragments of her hallucination now bestow
A gifted sacrifice her (secret thoughts) needed for soothing waves to flow      
In the distance a cranberry sun sets, now streaks of pink implores                                                                                         
A darkened blue-green sea, maroon and sapphire shores
A beautiful mermaid appears and thanks her for her secret thought
That only love for the deep blue sea (the ocean is life) and to all this be taught
© I Am Anaya  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: sluggishly, fantasy, ocean,
Form: Rhyme

The Coconut

There it was, 
Slowly drifting
Above the blue waters. 
Abandoned.
Emotionless.
Lifeless.

There it was, 
Laying still
Under the cruel skies. 
Stagnant.
Alone.
Apathetic.

There it was, 
Sluggishly floating
Amidst ebb tides. 
Directionless.
Hopeless.
Impassive.
Categories: sluggishly, 12th grade, adventure, dark,
Form: Free verse

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


I Have a Cold

According to Doctor Google, I am actually dying.
With the symptoms I have, surely it can't be lying.
I'm living on borrowed time, I really should be dead.
My head is so dense, I look like Mr Potato head.

Rechecking my symptoms as I stare at the computer screen.
A common cold I have, now that's not so mean.
I've blown my nose so much, now it's red and raw.
My throat feels the same and coughing makes it sore.

I want to lie down but my nose is too stuffy.
I triple up the pillows but they don't feel soft and fluffy.
So much green, slimy mucas dripping down my throat.
In a Medieval castle I think I could fill the moat.

My face is drawn and haggard with mouth open wide.
Such an effort to breathe, this cold I cannot abide.
The whole body aches, I sluggishly move about the room.
Succombing to the symptoms, resigned to impending doom.

It's only a cold I have, It shouldn't be that big a deal.
Yes it is! No one on earth could imagine the way I feel.
I know you've all had a cold before, but not as bad as mine.
Don't anybody tell me that in a couple of days I will be fine.

Trying to go to bed. close my eyes and go to sleep.
If only I could! without my nose constantly on the leak.
Maybe I'll just stay in my chair and write another ditty.
But I'd rather think about myself, happily wallow in self pity.
Categories: sluggishly, health, light, sick, silly,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Dragon

Denizen of abyssal labyrinth,
legendary ancient Wyrm seeks succour
within prodigious sepulchral cavern:
her domicile for an ageless lifetime.

Ethereal shafts cascade through ceiling's
stochastic rifts, piercing tenebrous tomb;
vicious viscous scarlet smears juxtapose
against shimmering iridescent scales.

Aeons past, Faustian pact formed with Man:
vow of harmonious co-existence
exchanged for fulgurant falchion forged in
the heart of dragonflame's conflagration.

Sacred covenant shattered this night by
myriad ironclad interlopers;
ruination's harbinger was strident
warrior wielding token of treaty.

Last vestiges of cacophonous roar
dissipate into the Stygian depths;
acrid stench of brimstone clogs the air as
remnants of vitriolic pyres linger.

Twin gargantuan fibrous wings contract
behind enormous muscular torso;
fulgurating talons sluggishly sheaved
as serpentine tail shudders and falls limp.

Priceless metals and prismatic gemstones
intersperse with charred and twisted corpses;
amongst detritus of mortal conflict,
majestic titan finally crumples.

Massive lurid yellow orbs exhibit
an unfathomable intelligence;
succumbing to the inevitable,
moribund colossus bows forlorn head.

Lifemate butchered by zealous paladin;
remains of final clutch just motes on breeze.
Burden borne by solitary relict:
regal behemoth was last of her kind...

----------------------------------------

(C) John C Michaels, 25th April 2017

Free verse, no meter, no rhymes - as per contest rules.
10 syllables on every line (howmanysyllables.com)

For the contest entitled "A Mythical Creature" sponsored by Julia Ward.
Categories: sluggishly, adventure, fantasy, fire, magic,
Form: Free verse

Haiku On Jovial

summer cloud flies
dream bud wake up sluggishly
jovial letter
Categories: sluggishly, love,
Form: Haiku


Casper the Unfriendly Ghost

Welcome to your new home! 
Tucked away in this lovely town of harmony
where tourists visit often
and our bears wander in society!
Please, make yourselves comfortable
feel free to settle in
should you have any questions
my numbers on this napkin.

Charming place
-cheap too!
We certainly lucked out
I knew I could count on you!

We hugged, laughed
unpacked our things
arranged furniture 
and prepared for the evening.

The excitement beginning 
our new life was real
yet a heavy air lurking 
was strong and surreal.
What felt like walking through fog 
congested by malice energy
I chose to ignore 
for the sake of my sanity.

Months had passed 
strength indeed-spirit grew.
Doors constantly slamming shut
items falling over 
a good night sleep-next to none.
Anxious nights I spent awake
until this spirits final outbreak.

Alone at home on a winters night
I sat anxious and afraid.
3AM on the couch
watching the clock 
slowly tick away.
It was then I heard-above my head 
footsteps sluggishly dragging.
Loud and evident 
across our bedroom
toward the hall-coming at me! 
Could this be an intruder-I thought?
Or maybe a ghost?
The sound is too real 
for me to sit and diagnose!

Out the door-in a hurry
I certainly did not stay to see
Off and away in my vehicle
felt safest to me.

Tired and terrified 
I began to ask questions
who is this spirit 
why hasn't it gone to heaven?
My husband gave-way
FINALLY 
putting my "sanity" at bay- knowing all along.

HE- an anger charged blood 
in a flowing stream of liquor
set forth a determined man.
Gripping his gun with tears in hand
to keep his children
in lieu of division.
Rise to fail 
he would not stand
surrounded by sirens 
-Our Home-
belted in confinement 
he would not let them go.
Until his last shot
until his final blow.

Thereafter-we found a new home
no longer did I stay 
in the shadow of- He
who took his own life
who dwells the house of dismay.
The house of sadness
the house- He lays. 




March 20, 2016
Categories: sluggishly, fear, house, mystery, scary,
Form: Narrative

A Day In Kampala

A flight of birds
Flaunt their enormous wings
Spying the light blue skies,
Of a city protected by trees
Whose sheer leaves 
Dance with the January breeze
That hovers over
A people of different origins

A chrysalis unborn,
Wrapped tightly with love
Soon to flourish into a butterfly
This city is,
Of men and women
That toil in light and darkness
In strife for success 

Thousand cyclists dot the downtown alley 
Where potholes wait still,
Like crocs in a shallow river,
Preying a stray leg,
Or a taxi from a valley of hundreds
That,
From atop their harbor 
Evokes in me
The feel of a king facing his people

Twilight sluggishly descends 
Upon a tired city,
Ushering in the night lights 
That glow of cedar upon the girls of the night,
The streets are quiet yet lively,
With music, liquor stores,
and casinos,
Stray dogs and vagabonds Populate the night,
Clearing the streets of the day's trash

I could still wake,
Oblivious of the morning sun,
Dazed from last night
And still know I'm in this lovely city
That bares untold stories 
Of men that fostered it's blossom.

                                Isaac.O
Categories: sluggishly, january,
Form: ABC

Typewriter

A fresh college graduate looking for a job
To undergo trials one of which is the typing test
Handed over a text passage to pound on the keypad
Typing 40 to 50 words per minute, I needed to press

Facing a manual typewriter, rested fingers to home keys
Try to feel the small bumps on the F and J keys
Now confident, curled fingers to position strategically
Hoping to type the text reflexively

Altering the upper and lower case, pinky fingers strike shift keys
Reaching the number keys on upper level makes it fiddly
Pressing the keys very hard to swing the type-bar up
The carriage travels to the far right sluggishly

Leaving an imprint of the characters
I was whisked away by my disappointment
Never repeat same fate in front of a manual typewriter
The rhythm goes with each keystroke adapting to its component

The next day I saw a Remington typewriter
So old that typebars entangled so often
Curious to type words, always an attempter
At its clickety-clack sound, a relic of a bygone age


15 May 2013
Categories: sluggishly, poems, technology, time,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member As I Grow Old

The fading ancient sun casts long shadows before me,
as I shuffle slowly and sluggishly down asymmetrical lanes.
How age mellows me like ripe watermelon, squeezing me
until all my ambrosial juices run acidulously dry as dust.
 
Unsatisfied desire, mental torment and general malaise
conquer my better moods of love, devotion and quietude.
Straggling with widespread dishevelment and disillusions
I try in vain to set an orderly pattern to my straying aims,
hoping some guardian angel were to take my shaking hands
to lead me onwards steadily towards some well defined goal.
 
Mark my furrowed forehead, tap solidly at my potential energy
fill my withering wrinkles with some sense or empirical reasoning,
but at least give me one essential gift, that a grumbler I'll never be.
Categories: sluggishly, age,
Form: Free verse

Reheated Road

Reheated road
Reheated road retired by moving pandemonium,
Altercating, bitching, clamoring and demanding 
sluggishly set forward 
Birds and flies dispersed towards different directions
Their infuriate cry overspread the moving commotion 

Against the riot the power standing 
highly fortified, uniformed with stars 
Attentively antagonized, barricading with iron bars  
behind the fuming

Uproar reached closer
and disagreement sparking 
Bottles, stones, whatever touching hands took wings
High torn and overfilled emotions animated  

in place of confirmation, coordination, and correlation
flushing water, smoky gas and rubber bullets 
find way to reach a peaceful solution
tears, vain juice and  screaming
flowed without win nobody
Road reheated seeking solution treatment!

Jayaratne Weerakkody
Categories: sluggishly, bullying, emotions, people, stress,
Form: Narrative

Love Might As Well Be a Million Miles Away

Love Might as Well be a Million Miles Away



Demented silence 
Thuds dreams to nothing
In empty hands
And desperate lips kiss
Air

Tears beguile emotion to feeling
Something
Anything
Squawking
All of it a lies distraction
From the yank and burn

Don’t look to deep
Into it

A whole life brought to the reckless tip
Says “ Believe in it ”

And the games of a sexual reconnoiter
Appease deliberately
With a numb ball point
That scars wishes on a skin
Which has no other meaning
No other action
Or recompense
But to lay sweating in its own self inflicted 
Torment 

But would beg for pity
Beg with a berated dog on its belly
To feel something other than this cold empty
Starving

Beguiled by desperation and easy excuses
Never, not, ever, not, to be “a break free”
Of the chains
Sluggishly wrapped
Upon that future
Has no dream but reality
And today has devoured me
Yet again

Conceived in its erudite misuse
And accepting weakness as its only course
The day ad-libs
These fleeting life second-hand moments
Nothing but punishment
For being in love

The bitter doors of its prisons
Bleed
When my hands touch them

Guilty those palms they pronounce me
And culpability continues to deny me
A life
Though through every strip of imagination
I could tune this heart another way
If still my lover refuses
To give in

Then

Love might as Well be a Million Miles Away
Categories: sluggishly, life, lovelife,
Form: Free verse

Passing By

A Father and a Daughter walked onto
The bus.
One stop away from the highway.

The whiteness outside creeping up around,
Silently,
Like a cat.

He sat in front, 
She sat behind.

She had long hair down her back,
He had white feathers stuck in his.
She sat there looking around, shaking her legs,
He coughs,
Again and again.

He asked,
"Do you want to go to the library?"
As the bus
Rolled onto the highway.
Wheels creaking,
Sluggishly.
Up
The formidable slope.
She shrugged. 
Silence.

The bus started descending from the highway.
She 
Examined his white hair.


Little fingers curling around the nape of his neck.
He sat there,
Head full of images of leaking pipes, electricity bills and the lady with the pink dress.

She 
Giggled at this new game
Tugging at his hair.

He suddenly made as if to
Reach out and grab her hand.
But she withdrew swiftly,
Laughing with delight.
She returned to her game on his hair.
His hand reaches back again,
And she collapsed back.

She grew bolder
Pulling at his hair,
Willing him to look,
To listen,
To play with her.
Until his bigger hand
Shot out
Like a dart
And found hers,
Clasped tight
Game over.

Still the game does not go on forever
She would elude him
She would fight him
His big hand reaching out to grab air
They pass each other by
Until they both have white feathers in their hair


The bus stops
A Father and a Daughter alighted
They did not go hand in hand
© Amy Zhao  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: sluggishly, absence, daughter, father daughter,
Form: Free verse

Tides

'...the great tide that treads the shifting shore.' 
                                Edna St. Vincent Millay 


Sluggishly the waves steal in like guilty 
lovers, apologetic, 
smothering the shore with gentle kisses 
of contrition; 
the ocean lies at rest, the surf recumbent, 
anorectic. 

Suddenly the heavens burst, tides no 
longer in remission, 
swells that idled now surge into shore 
their temper rages, 
'sotto voce' once, now they roar like tigers 
in their cages!
Categories: sluggishly, nature,
Form: Verse

Premium Member Timeless Womb

Seed - scattered strewn or downtrodden.
Grain stuck on passive flytrap mucus.
Wild life biomes ripe with  open sesame.
Frantic birth pangs stiffen their gestations as green  leaf ferments bubble underneath.
Mother of all wombs, diva pulse or fertile runner bean. 
Maternal youth. 
Eternal youth.
Bamboo shoots that wave their infant tassels
in a windmill vane.  
Future plant life leveler a wobbly wellie earth  crunch.
Squelching  noises  tower over  brown air pigment mulch.
Sweet pea treasure’s 
plot or topsoil script, ploughman’s pen an agri-birthmark issue.
Acorns cling  to feather beak and claw with migrant species casually dispersing airborne clan.
Pity the poor bacteria  as they bear their own strain.
Mediators in regrowth, 
life cycle go betweens who skirt around infinity.
Pregnant life force signage points at blossom, branch  and blade.
Father  sky, whose azure blue tarpaulin watches blithely as we earthlings bloom like algae.
Captain chlorophyll, the sunshine nabbing pirate rules the waves.
Sugar dazzle  booty on display for fortune  hunters everywhere.
Placenta of the rural outcrop overstretched.
Nourishing, replenishing yet prematurely procreates its progeny.
Compost layer genus code emulsions where thorny splatters worm themselves inside.
Gene pool mirror drapes  its vibrant colour wash on foetal lime bow and arrow  twigs.
A prism to some rainbow tint or shaft.
Muddy waters  percolating sluggishly through all those clay born  matrices below.
Our natural breeds now wet nurse turf ground offspring.
Nutrients absorbed by network carriers- sprout and stem WIFI eco-mates. 
Elevator of the undergrowth in embryo.
Going up going down.
Timeless womb your time will always come.

Posted 13 th August 2021
Categories: sluggishly, art, birth, blessing, change,
Form: Imagism
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