Best Sparred Poems
Written: March 3rd, 2025 for contest Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
Quote" There is a moon inside every human being. Learn to be companions with it". By Rumi
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If I could I would fetch you
the moon on a spoon,
A silver ladle cradling
that celestial charm,
reflecting dreams woven in its light,
a beacon of hope,
glowing in the night sky.
With every dip,
I would capture stardust wonder,
sprinkling inspirations
across your path,
gently lowering the
heavens to your reach
to illuminate the beauty
within your grasp.
This spoon, an extension
of my heart's desire,
would gift you galaxies
beyond mere sight.
Each scoop a promise
of infinite possibilities,
for you are worthy
of such ethereal gifts.
If I could, I would fetch you
the moon on a spoon,
wished upon a distant star,
an angel longing as my plaything.
A paper lantern floating
akin to a balloon,
a magic wand in hand,
I would blow bubbles into fine glass jars,
sending them around the world
to shed a path of divine light.
Thinking of sweet ideas,
inspired by our celestial planet.
She took a spoon in a flurry
to dip in Milky Way cornets in a hurry,
Fetching her angel the moon,
solid and proud.
emotions weak but potions strong,
a dauber with dungarees smeared
from paraffin slopes, they trampled.
With poise unseen by iron-hooved men,
dreams floated high above
troughs and sparred skies.
He the heir of ding a-ling
Not to proclaim again
The universe; below the belt of lonesome theme
Nothing like Euripedes scale?
Warriors! Abide no more!
Let him hear! By anothers winter's tale!
Let him speak!
Verbalize his own ideals of the will
Free of justice, back his wealth in need of triduum
He's the man of knowledge, the half was taken
Forbids not to take the road again!
Don't kill! He may endure cynism beyond pain!
Let him freed!
He's not Echo who just love himself
He, the scientist of the noble minds
Of an old aphorism in 1513
Please! Do not my King, in Napoleon's name!
His words are gait sparred
Oh! Like him is just a continuation of pendulous fame
He's not Gods, nor Greek, nor French
His human by all faith and means
Do not kill! His worth more than any of cunneus wedge
More than you'll know my kin
Do not let him die in his sentence...
I stare at the world through slats in the blind
Which are partly obscuring the dazzle at times
There's nothing particular to spot there today
As even the birds seem to have all flown away
But once in a while a tractor growls down the track
Hauling a jangling old plough or a planter at back
Then later the post van is speeding here with the bills
Soon I watch our Postie get in and out of the chills
In past times we chatted when the dogs were inside
But now I'm in here while they bark out their pride
He'll stop at one house though and sample some tea
But there's nowt going on - it's his sister you see
Just across the river in the giant glass houses there
All trays have been cleaned and stacked with such care
Not much more to do now for a good month or two
Soon be time for their rest in the warmth of Corfu
Not far from their place is a great old machine yard
See bright yellow lorries sport scuffs where they sparred
With anything that didn't yield to their determined path
'Another post over' you may hear their drivers laugh
A few hundred yards more just out of sight on the bend
Is a specialist scrap yard with old machines that they mend
And sell back to farmers for much less than when new
In these cash strapped times there's a few more in view
When times past we ambled my old dog Griff and I
Some walls were crumbling and I thought they might try
To patch up or rebuild them but still they survive
If they fell in a high wind it would be no great surprise
At the jetty quite near there is a boat on the Glen
A spot where a while since I fed our ducks and their friend
The swans have moved on now and the grebes cannot be seen
For the best pickings have gone though the waters still green
It's time for a drink now so maybe I'll potter off to
The kitchen where there is much less of a view
Some soup and a sandwich will be nice I do think
Just as soon as I've washed all the pots in the sink...
©Rhumour
October 6th 2008
Edit February 2016
(Note: this edited version is different from that in the paperback 'Rhumour Has It'
And when I learned that you died
How can I describe
The empty
Empty
Empty
You were my boxer in the night
Sparred with you
About every aspect of
Life
My secret tonic
Made everything
Feel alright
Got me through it all
All the frustrations
Disappointments of
Life
And when I learned that you died
How can I describe
The empty
Empty
Empty
We called each other friend
Even when
Our bodies came together
That single
Lunatic
Moment
That single
Lunatic
Time
And it felt so
Full
You made me feel
Full
How can I describe
The full
Full
Full
My life was full
When you laughed
It felt so full even
When you
Cried
The times I was mean
And my body left
Your body
After
That single
Lunatic
Time
And so we pretended
We were just
Friends
In the end
We pretended
Then
And now you’re
Gone
And I can barely speak
Or write
I can barely write
A
Single
Meaningful
Poetic
Word
And there’s a quiet room
In my mind
Where your laughter
Once
Played
My innocent child
Woman
Gone
Away
How can I describe
The Empty
Empty
Empty
How can I describe
The empty
Empty
Empty
How can I describe
The
Way
I
Feel?
alone,and scarred, no hope for you to gain
that which you've sought with love and pain.
No one will ever come to esteem you a star
in their bosom nor visit from afar.
The arrow sparred you no victims for food
You wonder the wasteland a starving man,
moribund by starvation whom none wooed.
You cried out and none heard you dying on the sand.
Their one lone cow has broken down the fence;
we see her trundling down the dusty lane.
Milo's mind remembers 'bout the milking.
Dad's face, a fiery-red, storms from the shed
where feisty kittens spat and sparred o'er cream.
Milo's feet meander back to the scene
as words of fire enflame dad's bulging neck.
"You'll wear the shoes that spooked the cow!" he roars.
So Milo moseys off to dad's bidding.
The cream a'squish-squish-squishes from the seams
of shoes like steam escaping old train wrecks.
Milo mumbles, "Guess I'd best be moving
along that dusty road to bring back Cow,"
with no concern for who will mend the fence.
written March 13, 2018
In plain sight I hide, behind a flesh wall:
concealing my true identity,
From my own flesh and blood
Willfully Forced from fatherhood
Through Adulterous Consummation:
A Daughter the result
Fearing grave consequence
If her real "Dad" found out
Suffering as the victim:
while bearing half its guilt
Thus Sparred of suffering.
Her Heritage Unquestioned
Eight years into Lie
Dying to break Silence
Constant in regret
Still Silent I remain
Fear holding me back
Regardless the lie's longevity
Truth Destined to be Exposed
With that Reality, I now fear
then her suffering, as I do now
From this one revelation:
Now Questioning Her Reality,
And Forever doubting truth
Seems the greatest consequence
begs the obvious question
will she ever forgive our actions?
And,
Both her parents once again,
face the guilt of their deceit .
Author's suggestion - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4jALL1_KdN8 - as you read
Don't forget to continue to "23 Stones Part 2"
I built this path, I laid these stones
With love I set down, a path thru gorse
With each one I found I sought
I left a bit of self, lonely fraught
You saw the 'crete, a simple path lain
You hopped across my lovelorn road of pain
Each one was a testament to my joy
To my heart with which you did toy
July was for the look, your disdain
The girl I wanted, to overcome, to reign
August for the great, you left, you left
I felt as lone schooler, single, bereft
September for the Autumn you brought back
You suddenly appeared, cross creek I you raf't
October for the halloween we fretted, suspicious
Not knowing if this was poision, or love, delicious
November for the flurries, your snowy birthday dance
We clashed and sparred, felt wintry love lance
December we cautious, pirouetting, eyeing
Into the New Year we wary spying
January came, we started class, knew new stress
Pricked apart, yet came, together crass
February came, new Cupid new shuffle
We tested limits, stepped away feath'rs ruffl'd
March came out of their wedding bliss
We fought over future, could we hit 'r miss
April brought a new creature, the finals
We pushed through together, equals and rivals
May brought Florida, Destin, so perfect
Fourteen brought us joy and warmth, circumspect
June again, now almost a year
I felt the nervousness, relationship a year
...Continued in "23 Stones Part 2"
Akin a tumbleweeds
aimlessly blowing in the wind
umlaut punctuation
courtesy of let herd Mother Nature
nsync with markie mark,
(or other faux nuke heads
on silent auction
ajudicating bidding chopping block)
or getting sparred
sum xtra mo' mints
before morphing into gamut
tuff height (against opposing
super cross currents)
bow willing head over heals
deftly thwarting encroaching
enfilade enhancing
invading army of deplorable
dust devilish debris
with full Stanley steamer ahead onslaught
opposing approaching phalanx
ta become a foo lush fighter
putting kibosh
across the infinitely open
and wide prairie land
(which wasteland fictitiously
epitomized and described by T.S. Elliot
with absolute zero relevancy here)
a barren vista ravages
metaphorical landscape
of one measly mortal malcontent male
bumping and scraping
along an accursed habiliment
just barely avoiding
and dodging diabolical demons
mercilessly unrelentingly ready
to seduce this somewhat sanguine Simian
who finds himself amidst pitfalls
of a tortured and twisted existence
racked with up pinions
(halving smartly put irons in the fire)
deployed incognito
tub hest describe demonic dungeons
damp, dark, demented domains -
a veritable no man's land
and one impossible to escape
from no matter how fast I flee
from the fearful, fiercesome
and phantasmagoric forms
figments of imagination
yet real and tangible as bone and flesh
haunt sacred house of slumber
and transmogrify me
into a loathsome madman
ranting and raving senseless
gibberish and gobbledygook
yet perceived as metaphysical
and philosophical
sane state farm mister soundcloud
syllabification stutterer
from one whoa man
World Wide Web wayfarer
(perchance yourself)
which virtual vagabond
venerates vowels...
My wife and I were born only a few months apart,
I was older than her...so you know from whence I start.
When I was turning 50 she gave me some grief,
I didn't feel old, yet she teased me with this belief.
"I'll be living with an old man now", she would say,
In her little "cutie pie", "cut-up" way.
I knew I would have to do something to get back at her,
When she turned 50...was the time I waited for.
Those few months of her teasing me I never forgot,
Biding my time for revenge...or so I thought.
The big day came and I had the chance,
To avenge the barbs on which she'd made me dance.
We celebrated her 50th with some friends,
And got to talking about our ages, as those times tend.
I thought I'd be clever and cast out this net...
"I've never had sex with anyone over 50, as yet".
Our stunned little group fell silent and looked at me scantilly,
Thinking of how rude a comment to say...that was for me.
My wife, of course, knew the target to which I'd let my arrow fly,
Broke the silence of the moment, and made this reply...
"Well, I don't know how anyone else here might feel,
But I have had sex with one here older than 50, and it's NO BIG DEAL".
I had no rebuttal then and have had none until this time,
When I could put my perspective of all this into a rhyme.
It's been a brutal 17 years since that night,
When we sparred those few words in our "Age 50" fight.
But from that one chance banter I have learned one thing not to pick,
DON'T CROSS WORDS WITH HER...BECAUSE SHE'S JUST TOO QUICK!!
Guess Who She Is?
Found her in some smooth flowing shower
Where each morning God gave her the power
To write awesome poems and oh so great
So in her shower she wanted to celebrate.
Soap was slowly getting into her eyes
It was then that she started to realize
All of her cruddy hair looked like crap
She forgot to put on crinkly shower cap.
Time as usual continually went by
Each shred of hair she started to dry
Right before she had heard nature calling
Poems from out of her hair started falling.
Try and guess who this poem was written for
Of course, the one who we do truly adore
Who in the shower with poems has sparred
Then on keyboard typed up while trying hard.
All of her poems popular they had become
And after them they named a chewing gum
Chewed hard and almost ruptured her spleen
Now the new gum is called beachy keen.
Or was that peachy? Do you remember Beechnut
Chewing Gum and Bazooka Bubble Gum?
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran
WHEN HE COMES CRYING
I fear the dead breakages memories
He was a shadow who rejected me
When mother was swiming alone
Shut up and shed tear
Clear your mind and pray
When done
Come again with a pleading heart
Maybe mother shall look upon you
And laugh enough to last
To cover your sins
Till I am grown into a man
So to take care
Of all that you left unfinished
I shall do it with happiness and simpathy
Just with what mother sparred you with
When you walked out the door
Because we fear GOD, his wishes.
Amidst the rushed ripples of life.
Something brushed darkness deep into his eyes.
Weeping violets, gentle blacks, wondrous blues.
A couple of almost stars danced like midnight dew.
yet...
Petals of light breached the heavy pound of night.
Sparred with the sable sirens of doubt and death.
Struck them brutally honest in their icy stares.
The rouge of battle lay heavy upon the morning air.
Lord, which road should I take?
They look equally appealing. I have a hard
choice to make.
From where I stand,
both ways appear to be unmarred
and grand!
I cry,
“With doubt, I’ve sparred!”
Sigh!
Lord, which road should I take?
Both ways appear to be unmarred.
Sigh!
the argument started like the lighting of a fuse
embers of an ongoing conflict spanning years &
the fact remains, at this age, neither of these family members need see each other any more unless they choose to---
so while one begins to chew the other out &
soon the new argument just becomes an addendum to the last
time they sparred,
and as the typical apathetic conclusion begins to loom on the horizon
(since neither parties are really listening to the other),
one of the parties changes their role &
begins to plea for a different ending to this
fight---
an effort is now being made by one party to
end this ongoing fight &
to change the course of their personal history,
this effort is a greater challenge than most things in either one of their lives
because it entails immediate family,
because it means real change
which cannot be won overnight &
which means that old ghosts & horrible memories
which have held together hate for so long
must be buried underground,
deep underground,
like so many successfully smothered hatchets
which have helped keep families together
while others continue to be torn apart &
destroyed by much less.