Best Spangle Poems
Written: October 10, 2023
Night Bewitches Sponsored by: Shadow Hamilton
A dream is a microscope through which we look at the hidden occurrences in our souls. Erich Fromm
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In the placidity of the night's embrace,
bewitched the cosmos with an arcane grace.
The moon, a silver orb, may induce its rise.
Oozing its ethereal aurora over the skies
Whispers of worm words waft on wafture wear,
As the stars spangle, their nexus is spare.
The night wiles with its vestigial spell,
Drawing us in, under a talisman dwell.
Penumbras plaster pegs poltergeists of trees,
The twilight augury decry casts souls at ease.
Geezers of nightgown awaken from slumber,
Suing solace in the Cimmerian shade to clamber
The eventide sky overawes with a cosmic array.
Stars bedazzle and coxswain us on our way.
Moonlight sumptuous aura in a gentle glow,
Steer us through the shadow as the nexus flows.
Ebony necromancy decry a glamorous sight.
Drawing us close to the serendipity of the night.
In this cosmic wee hour, dreams bear flight.
Our souls are raised, and our hearts blight.
So let us indulge in this nocturnal delight,
As dusk vamps, squirting a glamor of delight.
Let us wander in the moonlit haze,
As sableness susurrous surreptitious sprays
Wee crepuscule twiddles, a plum night symphony
Where conceit phantasm and verity shed sympathy
Allotting an awareness acumen ariose and aureate
Upon ubiquitous utters uncanny unsophisticate.
Tinsel charm trees so bright how they shine on Christmas night
white snow falling gently calling, let us claim His light
forward into Christmas we are longing to ignite
as He gentles He potentials, He is power and might
Winter scenes and Noel gleams He is out of sight
this babe of love from up above has come to make it right
Beloved child of God Jul, riding on a mule they arrive tonight
that blessed family made of 3, such is our delight ...
Christ is born in Bethlehem touch his hem and heal thyself
yes he comes to save us all heed the call and share His wealth
lights and candles they do spangle as they roam with stealth
in a stable He is able, child of love and child of health,
Lights and candles how they spangle,
cling us to thy Holy Self...
The fuchsia ribbon
through her hair ...
more than spangle,
bound tight around
her tenacious heart,
the shining symbol
of sinews sacrificed,
precious flesh ruined,
moments with family
given to contention.
She removed it ...
tenderly secured her
little one's ponytail,
her tears christening
a transcendent hope.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Brian's Select 4, Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Ribbon" Free Verse Poetry Contest, Line Gauthier, Judge & Sponsor.
I had the craziest time at the Squigglehawk ball
all the Frazzlefairies were bouncing off the wall,
Jellyfunts were swinging their enormous trunks
as they boogied away with pongalicious skunks
Young Squigglehawks gyrated in the balmy air
wearing pink tutus but their fannies were bare
Their antics created a humderendous kerfuffle
Pa panwongled them all with his wangabuffle!
When their Ma vamished some rainbow gowns
the youngsters claimed they looked like clowns
But they adored their lush spinklerly violet wings
and pogo-loged as if their legs were on springs
Ma Squigglehawk put on a spingle spangle spread
with chumley corn spears and warm glitterpuff bread
Pa Squigglehawk had brewed some honeydew wine
it sparkled like silver moondust and tasted so divine!
I flange wanged in the arms of a fit frazzlefairy
but we had to part when the bong went hairy
The next Squigglehawk ball is Saturday at eight
I can’t wait to wange with my frazzlefairy date
Craziest Time At The Poetry Contest
Choice 1: Craziest Time At .......
Sponsored by Caren Krutsinger
179 Words
07/27/20
Written: January 11, 2023
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Forge forth from force, never from forgiveness,
Don't fumble with the frame of your future.
With veils of past sins, allow some liveness,
Bind the soul's light to its faith by suture.
And dispel the darkness; squander no tears,
But flip the twig and then smile, smile, foresee.
Upon the smudged history of missed years,
Ariose pure soul that's zealous with glee.
Do not be proud of the grieve but believe,
That sacred spangle in your crux should grow.
Such as the striving spirit can achieve,
Gossamer scintilla arcane and glow.
We dance like moths to a flame beneath the stars of night
eager to watch the moonlight cast a spell upon the lake
and as our hearts grow wings we take to midnight flight
claiming our rightful place for the sake of love's daybreak
I want to lose my darkness and surround it with your light
and as evening draws us closer I will wish with all my might
that your love will be a sonnet written with a quill of gold
etched upon our faithful hearts , like a poem of old
We will keep each other happy with kisses hot and sweet
built a castle on the moon with a love that can't be beat
when the dance of life is over I will follow you to where
all the stars of heaven glitter and spangle , in the air
as we dance like moths to a flame beneath the stars of night ,
our hearts will grow two wings as they fly, into the light.
Tears bring the eyes its shivering spangle of stars
In liquid pools dilating light
The firmament spiraled to bandage time’s scars
Shining in empty bowls night
And sometimes the common carbon of the air
In soul deep fires like butterflies
Becomes the diamonds from our despair
Uncut by innocence to prudent eyes.
And you from your shining White House saw
The fluid dreams of frigid seasons
Bent to touch us, and in your warmth to thaw
The icy conducts of pride’s false reasons
We had only eyes to tell the luster of our glee
Muted with wonder at your love
Bridging the callous constellations of history
To dent the songless cages for each dove
How shall we thank you for feathering our dreams
To vault the pole-less blue of sky
Dear First Lady, the joy that in us stuttering gleams
Make us the jewels of your eye
You bring us hope, you shining tiara of the sultry past
You jeweller setting us to shine
Against rabid scorn of white winters' withering blast
No cheap rubble again, the stones you leave behind.
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When you have fallen fast asleep,
I'll crawl toward your hall and creep
out through your door...
Advancing quickly through the gloom,
I'll prance into your living room
and as you snore,
I'll pulverize your rug and purr,
while sizing up your Douglas fir,
and when I...
LEAP!
I'll dangle ever frantically,
until each spangle from your tree
is in a HEAP!
I'll SLASH your floppy socks's toes
and GNASH your boxes tops's bows
in savage bites!
Then lift, at last, my pretty tail
and spritz a blast of 'Kitty Male"
...to wreck your lights!
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Oh, merry tambourine, shake-shake your beat.
Entice our gypsy lady from her seat.
Swirl her body. Make her show each bangle
round her ankles. In your pulse entangle
all of us with magic mirth replete!
Turn and thrust and twist her hips petite.
Let staccato move her tiny feet.
Make her shimmy-shimmy with your jangle.
Oh, merry tambourine.
In the night, by fire, we feel the heat
as you jingle for our gypsy sweet.
As she moves in moonlight, at this angle,
how her green eyes shimmer! Make her spangle,
oh, merry tambourine!
For Brian Strand's 'ALL YOURS (Jan 24)' Poetry Contest
Our garden's masterpiece,
Fairies in each fleur-de-lis,
Blossoms of gauzy glory,
Perennial veils of fairy stories,
Beribboned spangle treasury,
Fairies flitting so flowery,
Our queen of ruby roses,
Posies for all, one supposes,
Flowerets the best cuddle,
Essence of Spring, residual,
There are fairies in the flowers in our garden,
One ruby rose--then a garland!!
History of the Star Spangle Banner
Maybe idea of Major George Armistead
The glory of Americans who scan her
Of Mary Pickersgill she was begat
The creation of the original flag
Be still a subject highly debated
Mary Pickersgill was not one to brag
Old Glory she made, beauty wind inflated
Armistead first requested it to be
A large garrison flag for reason
So the British have no trouble to see
Good to see our flag has flown in season
Fifteen colonies equal fifteen stars
Having eight red stripes and seven white stripes
Red and white stripes run in parallel bars
She flows in glory apart from other types
Rumor has it two glories were first made
For a small and a large Mary did charge
A document exists a bill was paid
Though small one be lost or is still at large
The varied small Star Spangled Banner
Never made it home to the Smithsonian
Would be nice to see displayed in some manner
In national museum the large is on loan!
For Contest Dazzle us with History
For Carolyn Devonshire and James Frazer
The History of the Real Star Spangled Banner
The creation of the original flag is still a debated subject.
However, the general story accepted by most historians is that Mary
Pickersgill was commissioned to make the flag by Major George Armistead
for $405.90. Following the victory at Fort McHenry, the flag was preserved
by Col. Armistead and it remained in the Armistead family. A smaller one
which was flown during the actual battle, and a larger one that was
flown as a replacement immediately after the British retreat.
This was a common wartime practice of the period.While no one
can say for sure what really happened, documents exist that show that
Mary Pickersgill was paid for two separate flags, a small one and
a larger one. If the smaller flag exists, its whereabouts are unknown.
In 1907, George Armistead’s grandson, Eben Appleton, expressed
interest in donating the flag to the state of Maryland or to the city of
Baltimore. After discussions with Maryland’s governor and the Mayor of
Baltimore, Appleton eventually placed the flag on loan to Smithsonian Institution
and it was displayed in the Hall of History at the National Museum of American
History. The loan was converted to a gift in 1912 and can still be
seen at the National Museum in Washington, D.C.
Pole dancer her name’s Suzie Spangle
Her massive boobs she likes to dangle
They look like ripe fruit
Guys think she’s so cute
Observing them from every angle!
Fate, you seamstress old witch
Garments of life measured with line
The misery of men, a fabric been stitched
By your roughshod, wicked designs
Buttons missed, or threading used frayed
Throws muscular waste and decay
The world, steeped in suffering has paid
With the dystrophied lives you betray
Impoverished styles you’ve miserly made
While the hungry painfully wails
Cut-corner fashions are endlessly weighed
On your crooked, treacherous scales
Celestial shop, contains all the cloth
All the ribbons, the bows and the bands
Yet beautiful clothes, are put-off with sloth?
Or lie idle in withering hands?
No orders come in, tailored and chopped
For a dress spangle entrenched?
And what of the suit, with sleeves to be lopped
That for months sat on your bench?
Your life shall be hemmed, in a straightjacket locked
And laced with poisonous snakes
By a white coat I’ve mended, with pockets I cropped
And cut to your sickening tastes!
Francis Scott Key ...
a song provocateur, who spoke
most ungentlemanly
Scott “Don’t set ‘em Free”
had to be
the most rabid racist
you never wanted to meet
Francis the Talking Mule
wrote a rousing anthem of war
Liberty for poor black souls like me,
wasn’t what it was written for
That patriotic song is so off-key,
sung with puff prideful bigotry
And wavy flag folks
want me
to un-spangle my hand,
and bray
star-struck dreamily
What kind of a Francis fool,
oh do you think I am
Got promised a scam:
forty green acres and a mule
But was only given
Jim Crow promissory rope hope
Was bandit banner handed
free penitentiary space,
and plenty foreign soil uncut dope
The Star Spangled words
said the “gloom of the grave”
was the foul refuge for the slave,
who chose bad British liberty
over good American slavery
Now they want me to stand,
and place my heart under my hand
Open my mouth
to sing aloud
off-key,
about liberty
that wasn’t originally
intended for colored skin
people like me
That tomb song is so dead off-key ...
sung with ignorant, dogmatic glee
Francis “Skeleton” Scott Key,
turned a man-stealing lie
into a flag truth on the sly ...
hybrid lyrical rapist of liberty
Now, them bones rest uneasily
in the wavy, bottomless deep
As that blotted out, blood-wrong song
is forever sung silently off-key
And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.” ~ Friedrich Nietzsche
Dance beneath the magic moon and listen to the flute
the stars will spangle brightly and then render you a mute
Twirl around the trees feel the brush of wind against your skin
the music of the forest has bounce it lives and breathes within
Bap Bap boom boom boom bap goes the sound of the rain
let it trickle down your face and take away your pain
life a technicolor beat in every note pure heaven
twisty water waves that flow with ascension
the music of the nymphs will take you higher than the stars
mayhap it will just guide you, all the way to Mars