Best Slumps Poems
The house slumps against overgrown yards
Where gardens wilt against the ground,
Begging for sleep beneath gray skies.
Vines move through weeds
Like brittle fingers,
Reaching toward a sagging door
Where paint peels like weathered skin,
Curling in agony against the grain.
Once vibrant, now fading
Like all doorways to yesterday.
This is where memories flee,
Lying in wait like dormant ghosts
That walk through the walls of my mind
As I walk through the door.
The hinges creak in protest,
Rusted by the rain of forgotten days.
The floors squeak in upset,
Unaccustomed to my timid feet.
The dust is stirred, the silence snaps
Like twigs used for kindling
To spark my tepid heart.
A decade becomes a moment.
A moment becomes a lifetime.
This is where memories live,
Trapped in time like restless ghosts
That walk through walls and haunt the halls
Of doorways to yesterday.
Though broken, they open
To swallow me whole.
Thankless job, I think watching
as Thurman tries to teach the young man
The lad sitting up
on the tractor
like a proud young pup
is full of piss and vinegar
half the time not listening
and half the time telling Thurman
how much he already knows...
As Thurman patiently slumps
his still-sturdy but ungainly frame
against the tractor
fingers strumming his red suspenders
a good-natured grin
slowly spreading
across his grizzled face
gleaming behind think glasses
I see a glint of soft amusement
at this grandiose greenhorn
Thurman has lived through
the Great Depression, and then
the horror of hand-combat
in World War II
one of three from his unit
to make it through-
so there is nothing this little ingrate
can possibly do or say
to break Thurman's composure today
he remains uncommonly calm
and utterly unflappable
a small chuckle slipping out
every now and then
And while the young man boasts
and blusters on about
his plans for next week
Thurman is mostly quiet, until
at length, asked about his plans
“Lord willing-
and the creek don't rise...”
he begins, knowing how
much could change by then
"Two doves in white flying, feathers glow beneath the morning's rainbow colors" - Charles Messina
The sun thaws in a kaleidoscope of hues,
of crimson, yellow, and blue flows.
As the sun slumps into direct view,
Sited off the coast, back to repose
Sparkling shades pervade the sky,
tributes to the lonesome moon.
colors that are so vivid to the eye,
Birds soar aloft to the nightingale's tune.
Final sight of aesthetic grace,
ahead of the onset of total nightfall.
Relish the extent and luster of the place,
awe-inspiring beauty, and splendor of it all.
Conch gem and sylvan shell,
splash ashore with scenic beauty.
Sapphire tides wished each other well.
over hills uttered in the birds' first fluty
Absorb the morning's chuckling allure,
it dispels fear and helps you sparkle like jade.
Believing that love offers a delightful lure,
delight at dawn with the sky's shade.
2nd place contest winner
Written November 30, 2022
Submitted to: "Colors in the Sky" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mystic Rose Rose
I see the shadow on the wall,
my breath catches and hope falls.
He has found me I do despair,
The Axeman is standing there.
Hiding in the house all day,
waiting for the return of his prey.
In the pantry watching through the door,
night is all he waits for.
Silently he makes his way through the house,
silent as a deadly mouse.
Started with dad and mom in the bed,
I silently cry as they are dead.
My sleeping sisters and brother,
without their heads I did discover.
My visiting friends he also found,
he killed them too with a squishing sound.
If only the drifting Reverend did not stop,
invited for breakfast by my pop.
My family could have been saved,
now our future is a lonely grave.
He moves in for the kill,
swings his axe with lots of skill.
The flash of steel as all I see,
slumps to the floor is all that's left of me.
The wind blows through Villisca this cold night,
my family died without a fight.
A small and quiet town,
in the night our screams did drown.
Poked by aleera I did jump,
telling the true story that in the night goes bump.
I see the shadow of Kristy De La Keur,
Now her story you'll get to incur.
Thanks to John Loving III and the Haunting Poets,
the true story of the Villisca axe murders you do know it.
Sad the tragedy is too true,
not a fictional killer to go BOO!
Her crimson heart blanches,
broken, her soul aches
never to numb her loss.
When songbirds silently retreat
to tallest treetops, shaken
she lights her solitary restlessness.
On the windowsill, it flickers and flirts
with dusk's sifted air.
Constant burning, I could never imagine this
insatiable, impatient yearning -
for one candle to beacon to one more chance.
She falls, spills over, slumps
into ebony night -
she, steadfast, stifles sobs performing
like in a Shakespearean play,
pretending to want for rise of day.
And I wonder why
does her lone candle shine
for him? Who deserves her heart sworn
to love despite a deceptive guise -
no intent to return, only rumors of his lies?
And I wonder why
I feel a kinship with her shadows,
(not yet hopeless or ready to resign),
they swing, lilting light,
lifting prayers into angelic paths
beyond, and I wonder.
Her blanched heart,
broken soul aches,
and I, a passerby,
wonder why I bleed her loss
and still feel the warmth of her candle.
written 2/15/17
I’d like too invite all to be my guest
a dine of mindfulness and rhyme digest
a week of conflict now victory blessed
standing united to silence a pest
Since the last time you heard from me I was banned again
ran my mouth and pen and stand condemned
taking a time out as the site suspended
yet always polite to poets I’ve befriended
In my lifetime of few consistences
a sucker for trouble
not designed for resistance
never stuck in a bubble
don’t run nor crumble
my back’s up I stand tall
I’m one for the rumble
not decided but natural
I’m an alpha with a non fictional reaction
I can’t stray from friction I give it back to ‘em
They flint
I flame
retardants
don’t reign
Even with intense insistence I’m risky
back and forth witty hits get me frisky
I’m Jack Daniels confrontation’s whiskey
and as it ascends force
whistling me wolf
I submit my thoughts
with all above board
but as the war gets me bored
within my core recycled and restored
enemy amo pours out below par
firing missiles I go to far
through lost remorse
this one track horse
gallops the course
with overwhelming force
only to fail care and I fall where I fell before
Standing up squarely
Cus nobody scares me
then punished unfairly
cus I ain’t no fairy
Deemed out of line
as I mouth my mind
blow for blow with swines
or write down rhymes
I’ve got one finger for sign language
knowing 5 fold in flight damage
You’re not the first to run me down
I’m not one to get the boys around
“I know a lot of people” not my threat
get me vexed I come direct
Others rely on their made up crew
not me though mate I come straight for you
One minute you’re coming calling me chump
the next minute running Forest Gump
I’ve never experienced intimidated slumps
the altercation ignition leads me to jump
start the motor ticks, over being a victim
insults thrown deflect don’t sink in
get thrown back with hurt inflicting
stand his ground does Nick Trim
Will call us HMS Victory and him the birds eye on a French deck,
one cannon ball later he’s drenched in a shipwreck
So thanks to the soupers standing with me,
the victory with us not he,
again I say soupers standing with me
are the ones standing victoriously
A dagger to the heart.
Warmred oozes down his chest.
He slumps.
No pain, pleasure instead,
His heart now a hollow shell,
He is man.
Capable of Love or Hate,
He chooses neither.
The embodiment of devil may care.
This is how the devil died and I was born.
Lonely Death, Fate Of A Lost Soul
Ron sat in the dark alley with urined soaked pants
muttering in a drunken stupor one of his many rants
Facial scars told of falls, beatings from being robbed
misery and blues broke him down into shrieking sobs
Once he had a wife and three precious little pearls
heart pains tore him up when he lost those girls
Now a defeated and broken soul without a home
the dark streets and drunkard's alley he roams
Realizing that his days are now so sadly numbered
he slumps back into a deep whiskey induced slumber
Waking hours later with those agonising chest pains
the cold numbing from the falling freezing rains
Moving over to hide beneath a huge dumpster lid
he thought yet again of his beautiful lost kids
No good to weep about the mess in the here and now
blue pain ripped into his heart like a cutting plow
That night he dreamt of love, life and family before
Sun rose that morning , Ron slept on, forever more
Robet J. Lindley 07-23-2014
Note : This based upon the real life story of my brother's
good friend. His friend 7 years older than he , that died
in 1997. My brother the drunkard that has never stopped
drinking in 38 years. Himself not long for this world!
And has not seen his own beautiful daughter nor his grand
children in over 34 years, since 1980!
I wrote a poem, title, A Drunk's Prison, back on 5-5 2014 here.
It was about my alcoholic younger brother.
This one is about his alcoholic friend that died!
Off-white is my color
On this time of the day
When darkness swallows me
And I illuminate
Through Its gossamer skin.
As soon as my purity
Slumps
Onto the ground,
It falls off - but not by my fault:
Children love to slide down my back
And the sad ones
Hate to feel my cold presence.
But I bring the warmness although I seem
Cold. After they've had my first embrace and
Soft touch on the cheek,
They've had enough of me.
On this time of the night
They want to get rid of me.
Then I become even colder
And leave with the promise
That I will be back and this time
It will be in a smooth and moony night
Followed by a cold and tiresome morning
Oblivious of benighted dreams coming true.
Revelation of my purity. Your ephemeral merriment.
You're cold again as i slide down your neck.
Half of the world is asleep
And black bellied clouds rest upon the mountains
Sending rain to punish my roof
While heaven complains against the ebony night
Shadows dark as evil sprawl beneath the trees
And lovers laugh, dodging puddles as they run
Gutters gush, gargling the torrent
As half of the world is asleep on rumpled beds
While creatures watch from boughs and burrows
The sycamore slumps beneath the storm
Where a hawk is stranded on a sheltered limb
And streams and brooks boast beyond their bends
The scene is solemn beyond the window
Where rivulets slide, blending into each other like lovers
A glaring bolt slides over the peaks, through the clouds
And the clouds complain about it a moment after
As half of the world is asleep, but not me
I have too much forgetting to do about nights like this
It's gettin' late and
we couldn't wait.
Me and Ma just downed 12 cold beers.
It's seven o'clock
and we both are crocked.
And my drug dealer’s fi-nal-ly here.
My ole Dad’s a stinkin’ like
a skunk who’s been binge drinkin’
as my poor Mom slumps in her chair.
My sister looks hot
after smoking some pot.
I’m hoping that she’ll surely share-a!
OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! –
C'mon and give me some medications!
I've had it with your saccharine!
Whoa! Saturday Night's alright for sleeping.
Getta little shut-eye in.
Gonna be as sleepy as Van Winkles brain.
Gonna set my clock – yeah, right!
Cause Saturday Night’s tonight, goodnight!
Saturday Night’s tonight – Goodnight…Goodniiiiiiight!
Woooooooh!Oooooooh!Ooooh!Ooooh!Ooooh!
Well I’m whacked fairly tight
and feeling light.
Taking one more Percocet will do me right.
I may slug some Robitussin
and suck-in some weed.
Popping three more oxycontins will be
all I’ll need!
A couple-of-a drugs that are really keen
Are Sominex and Nytol
with doxylamine.
I'm a juvenile junkie who hasn’t any class
Watching Motrin PM tablets
fizz in a glass.
OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! –
C'mon and give me some medications!
I'm tired of potassium!
Saturday Night's alright for sleeping.
Getta couple Zzzz-Zzzz’s in.
Gonna guzzle Ny-Quil ‘til I feel no pain.
Pullin’ down my shades real tight.
Cause Saturday Night’s tonight, goodnight!
Saturday Night’s tonight – Goodnight…Goodniiiiiiight!
Oooooooh!Oooooooh!Ooooh!Ooooh!Ooooh!
Saturday…Saturday!
Saturday…Saturday…Saturday!
Saturday…Saturday…Saturday!
Saturday Night, goodnight!
Saturday…Saturday!
Saturday…Saturday…Saturday!
Saturday…Saturday…Saturday!
Saturday Night, goodnight!
WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
For: Mr. John Heck
Dear John contest - Elton John (music)/Bernie Taupin (lyrics)
Sung to the tune of: Saturday Night's Alright For Fighting
Medieval times
A time of splendour
With gallant Knights
Ladies so slender
Jousting tournaments
The ladies all squeal
Exploding of hoofs
The clash of steel
Enter the Black Knight
To a round of jeers
The Red Knight enters
To resounding cheers
First pass no foul
They try it once more
The Knight in Red
Slumps to the floor
They carry him off
And tend to his wounds
A Blue Knight appears
The ladies all swoon
The maidens favourite
Known far and wide
Lord Richard of Leeds
His lance by his side
They ready for battle
Shields are in place
Masks of armour
Covering their face
Towards each other
They gallop full speed
Lances held high
The snorting of steeds
The Black Knight falls
The hero wins out
Blue Knight celebrates
Victory in the joust
Approaching the King
Horse and rider bow
The people go wild
Allegiance they vow
Medieval times
Hail to the King
Jousting tournaments
What glory they bring
© Jack Ellison 2014
Fear of God, Translation of Carlos Bousono’s poem, Miedo de Dios
(The second and fourth lines of these quatrains all end in the same rhyme, a feat it’ll be hard to maintain without appearing to be inflexible with the sound rather than the sense of the poem. This poem is from Carlos Bousono’s first collection : Subida al amor, 1945, which he dedicated to Vicente Aleixandre, marking the commencement of his steadfast admiration and association with the Nobel laureate. T. Wignesan)
And nevertheless, O ! God ! when imbued with feelings of love
I placed my hand in within your bosom,
I felt the love which subdued me
as with one wave from your kingdom.
But I was afraid of the darkness that could
accumulate in the depths of your mystery,
so deep down where even stars could not reach.
Only the penumbra. Fear gripped me.
Ah ! My God ! With what height of pity you espied me,
yet with so much love you my blindness bless
for having feared the darkness where slumps
the light of all the universe.
Because you are the ultimate hold of knowable protection.
Besides, those who love you will with looks inward train
and see an azure horizon
where a perpetual sunrise will reign.
But here I am on the surface of the earth,
here, across the floor, stretched,
because I was afraid of the horrible night,
perchance locked up in your breast.
And a confused ignorance holds me up :
crossed and brutal, impure and dried.
Closed yet interminably increasing
as with the hardened dead.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
Every time I sleep; pains on my brain'
Abolishing my heart n soul lord escort my vein
From the bounded clouds of this mournful pain
I can't predict the weather nor the range of the rain
But hope for the station of this moving train
Thou death is sometimes rude & so insane
Life remains a distance between birth & death
That exists deep down in the palms of earth
Demise, demise, demise; roll your unmerciful dice
Flutter with our lives as we stare with horrified eyes
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, statue into dense ice
Nothing panels your path nor human's wealth
Wicked calamity that neither cares of people's health
Guilty & innocent souls shall rest on your misty throne
Plans & creatures will bow & obey to the sound of your tone
Yet no grave, on the roots of earth, shall hold my corpse down
I'll dwell with divine cherubs of warmth, & wear my sacred crown
Emulating implausible angels in the closed doors of heavens town
So wipe your worthless tears, & rinse my ashes with frosty plums
Blustering monumental trumpets, accompanied by mourning drums
While the faultless treasure chest slumps down the mastery ground
As I tumble in a dim cavernous ocean aiding my soul to rebound
Gushing tears won't refurbish dull coats munched in the idols grave
Bloated hearts shall be restored by comforting pals that are brave
The sprinkling gates of heaven will sanctify my bones with streams
Consigning my precious soul to a land filled with endless dreams
Confessing all my transgressions; as I knock on the heavens door
While my corpse respite calm on the arctic layers of my odd floor
Legend Of The Black Dove (Part 10B)
"The Unknown World"......Continues
Norrington and Jenkins look around to see if they are near some volcanic
island somewhere in the Pacific Ocean. Captain Owens arranges a landing
party to try to get some supplies, food and water and anything else they
can find. They also take their guns for protection. Flying above the ship
are two large birds, but on a closer inspection they observe flying reptiles,
Pterodactyls: it seems they have been transported to the prehistoric times.
They decide to carry on moving towards the island. Owens, who is leading
the men, realises they have to go in, get through and out as quick as possible
through the rainforest with its strange vegetation and small animals. Moments
later they notice a Stegosaurus eating foliage. Avoiding confrontation they
walk around the trees only to encounter an Alosaurus- a flesh eater which
notices them. Growling it starts to chase after the crew. They shoot their
pistols at it. While running Jenkins falls to the ground, Norrington turns
and decoys the beast away from his friend, the other crew members help
Jenkins escape the beast's clutches. Without being noticed Norrington is
transformed into the Black Dove and is trying to lure the beast in his direction.
The other men are now on board the ship, while the Dove is playing a
dangerous game of cat and mouse with the Alosaurus. The Dove uses his
super strength and speed to jump onto the monster's back and render it
unconscious. The dinosaur slumps to the ground. Becoming John Norrington
again he rejoins his friends. Captain Owens is successful in getting fresh water
and some plants for their voyage home. The storm is approaching the Columbia
giving them another chance to return home to England. Everyone is on board,
knowing not where they will be going to next.
Will the Columbia's crew finally arrive in England?
Or will they end up in another time zone again?
The startling answer is in Part 11...."Destination Unknown"
Posted the beginning of next month (December)