Best Squelch Poems
“Let me be strong, for to be anything else is to languish in the abyss of compromise and to descend to places of impoverishment so destitute that they will squelch my soul and crush my heart.”
Craig D Lounsbrough
When left to languish in lament.
Metaphorical swords become tired
from words portrayed through bloodshed.
Misery is a master of manipulation,
pulling strings of sorrow,
personifying portraits of puppets in pain.
When dreams and desires disappear,
nonchalantly negating nocturnal nigrifying nightmares,
a heavy heart hoarding hurt is helpless,
crawling like a caterpillar without a cocoon.
In an anthology of anguish,
spirit withers in a lyrical language,
lost in lanes of latent lament,
so we search for signs to our secret sanctum,
to heal broken wings of bandaged butterflies.
When hope, like carnations of death, crumbles,
resembling crying chrysanthemums.
Tepid tears of tribulation,
trickle in trails of tired tinges of insecurities -
yet we still yearn for an expurgated Eden.
In the internal insanity of suffering,
sanity searches for a relief from repression,
as our existence can emanate into
a chalice full of missed challenges,
if we do not learn from life's lessons.
When trauma reverberates on repeat.
Words are as fragile as a beautiful ballerina,
without a ballad in a ballet of broken hearts.
Yet our pens crave to dance on virgin fibers.
Our souls are an essence of evanescent emotions.
There are no winners in battles with silence.
In the rationale of reason.
raging rutilant ink pleads to pour
puddles of purifying poetry,
gracefully releasing breaths of suppression -
A speechless saviour for timid tongues.
By the early years of that ancient decade, the 70's,
I'd tired of my obstreperous tomboyish games:
kickball with the neighbor kids, sledding in the winter,
desecrating the peacefulness of our street's grave yard
with our bike races, tag, and hide-n-seek.
And I tired too of the pastimes of my season preferred:
chasing siblings with a hose, giggling and gleeful,
swimming at Weed Park,
and my perpetual swinging through those long, sweet sunshiny days
longed for during classes in my school.
Old friends grew up.
Boredom anon crept upon the remnant of my childhood.
At times - through infancy and beyond -
I'd been beset by a feeling of loss
over something not yet sought.
It was something kin to loneliness, but no. . .not that.
More a sense of gloom - a sorrowing for what?
I still don't really know.
Despite the days of inexplicable forlornness,
I grew more and more cavalier
throughout the days that came
between those odd forlorn days
because my old timidity, in fact, had waned. . .
Another face, fairer, appeared.
It waxed and glowed - assured -
until those “days - in- between”
had finally surpassed the melancholy ones.
I learned to stifle monotony and squelch the blues.
I became a "doer" of too many things to name
as I went gliding through with the Gibbous moon.
Soon enough, a fullness had arrived.
And now it must disseminate.
In the years to come, I'll be wondering this. . .
Will the shining face I show the world wane too,
and will my youth's strange darkness re-emerge,
eclipsing what light remains as I drift,
having come full-cycle,
into my final
crescent phase?
5/21/14
Submitted 3/30/16 to PD's Any Poem # 38 Poetry Contest
Through eldritch streets I walked alone
With shadows on my track,
Full jellied was my every bone,
I thought my mind would crack.
Through mist and morbid mire I went
To revel where gargoyles dwell,
A guest whose soul was spent,
To meet the host - the King of Hell!
Through caverns dark I made my way,
The squelch of shoe, the crack of bone,
Chittering squeaks from shadowy grays,
Would never leave me alone.
At last I reached the caverned maw,
Ceiling glint with stalactites,
And of course its bretheren I saw,
The saber-toothed stalagmites.
And on the high-domed hellish lair
Hung a grinning crystal skull,
It threw a ghoulish, greening glare
Which made my senses dull.
All around there was a damp,
A noxious putrid smell,
And slightly a-centre on a ramp,
Stood grinning the Lord of Hell.
His feet were hooved, his head was horned,
He flashed his fang-like teeth.
His eyes were huge and darkly burned;
Heart stopped, I could hardly breathe!
"Welcome", boomed my infernal host,
And flashed a rotting smile,
"A welcome drink, a one-time toast,
Before you join my rank and file!"
Something clammy seized my mind,
My clothes turned very wet,
I screamed and woke myself to find
I wasn't dead as yet.
But close to it I surely was,
My narco-ed mind amid I had lain,
At hell's door without a fuss,
When with maddened mind I'd cut my vein!
Your brown eyes compel
Bring out this desire
Wishing to hide in
Your lapel, maybe
Upon a high wire
You touch the bell
Sparks will fly high
From your soft hand
Igniting flames
That only
Death will squelch
But maybe
I will
Love you
More
Contest: A Diminished Hexaverse
Sponsor: Caren Krutsinger
Date: January 16, 2021
1Your brown eyes compel 5
2Bring out this desire 5
3Wishing to hide in 5
4Your lapel, maybe 5
5Upon a high wire 5
6 0
7You touch the bell 4
8Sparks will fly high 4
9From your soft hand 4
10Igniting flames 4
11That only 3
12Death will squelch 3
13But maybe 3
14I will 2
15Love you 2
16More 1
Results
Grammar Mistakes
No embarrassing grammar mistakes found. Congrats!
Spelling Errors
No spelling mistakes found. Congrats!
Clichés
No clichés found. Congrats!
Blank pages strewed high on my desk in pain,
For now, I heard the squelch of death again,
It had echoed from my emptied inkwells,
As dying words crept from a mind that quells,
Pilfered hands scrawl at piles for hopeful hints,
A gleam, as much as a sign to convince,
A broked stopped clock reminds that time does not,
And a muted bird still has what its got,
Rambled eyes of a place in disguises,
Shadows grow as my heart vaporizes,
My rhythmless moves just proved my resolve,
I heard the squelch of death again, evolve.
2019 September 14
PoetrySoup has illustrious wordsmiths,
Helpers, counselors, encouragers. Human muses.
I jumped on this site with eagerness, not daring to hope for
Even a partial bit of what I have received.
I took the leap of faith, joining right away,
Without any idea how these new friends would soothe my soul.
And squelch my fears, and my doubt that what I wrote was actually poetry.
If I die tomorrow, I go satisfied,
Fulfilled by friends I have only met on paper,
Best friends who send me SoupMall,
Friends who have
Embraced my soul, and lifted me with the purest love.
Thank you. Your energy is appreciated with awe.
"The Thin Blue Line"
Cobalt blue, on a field of black
Creates not one, but three
Acknowledged lines within a pact
To squelch all anarchy.
The Public is the line on top;
The bottom line is Crime.
What separates us, is the cop...
Knight of "The Thin Blue Line".
1.28.2017©deborah burch
Quatrain
Dedicated to Law-enforcement everywhere
The autumn sky is overcast.
The choppy sea is murky grey.
The flustered waves flop on the sand
where the two brothers are at play.
Their trousers rolled up to the knees
they tease the water with bare toes.
Each foot in turn sinks with a squelch
then up it comes and backward goes.
The boys have fun and run about.
The air is cool but they don’t care.
They do not miss the hidden sun;
Of sighing breeze are unaware.
Oh to be young and free of thoughts
that could lay heavy on the mind
and for a moment turn the clock
to distant years left far behind!
-----------------------------------------
Paul Callus ~ 28th October 2015
Contest: Oil Paintings 1-2-3
Sponsor: Eve Roper
Placed 1st
[Inspired by an Eve Roper painting.]
Dragon! Dragon! … He’s in the air… There’s trouble on the way.
Duck your head, and keep on running… He’s the UPS Guy, today!
Now, Federal laws may be broken, as a few packages: well… go up in smoke!
But at least he won’t be bitten, as dogs tend to run, at what he… can evoke.
If they get too testy: Remember! He brings, a bottle of barbecue sauce, Hugh!
Though, I doubt this job will last…as he decides, to hoard a package or two.
After all, curiosity killed the cat, and Dragons get… mighty… curious, too.
He’s serious: The mail MUST get thru! But, to open them, another payment’s due.
If you want your package, be prepared to trade it for a shiny bobble or two.
The Trolls have taught him rather well, and he’s clever, this Dragon… so true.
Neither rain, nor sleet, nor dark of night: can stop him on his highborn… quest.
Just know, Dragons squelch competition: He’ll be: smoking mailmen, you can bet!
Mailmen and FedEx, need look out, for getting there: will put him on the top.
He can get there faster, and better, by flying straight without, even, a single, stop.
Thank God, he‘s young, having trouble with directions, or your job, would be gone!
Yea, he’ll swish right into your yard, though it’s a shame about that shrub! Oh! Darn!
If you don’t get your package, or if it tends to go up in a puff of, burning, smoke.
Just don’t worry, no, not at all! For you, with your camera… He will freely pose!
The fancy cape is there to remind you… That as The New, Illustrious U.P.S. Guy…
He’s the next Great Super Hero: as soon as he learns to, stop falling, from the sky.
Dragon would have made it, if the Federal Government hadn’t, come on thru!
He had to give it up, because at two years old, The Union wouldn’t sanction to:
Give him, in the end, an itty, bitty napytime… Really!… Honest!… That was true!
But don’t worry; he’ll be ready to serve you… in just, one more year, or two!
In Memory of Robert Scollay: A Great UPS guy and friend. Died Dec 2013
Slipping gently towards entropy,
Ownership with an apostrophe.
Braid the loose frays of sanity
Till something true finally answers me.
Troops are marching over many lands,
Tagged cornflower blue--a worldwide brand.
Don't speak out or you will be banned,
Towers implode just as they've planned.
Constantine merged Rome's faiths to one
Keeping time and step with Pagans.
Moloch laughs at our dull compassion
While Illuminati goals corrupt conception.
With a punitive eye beneath the skin
Mankind’s been declared the pathogen.
So an age of ignorance was ushered in
With aims to squelch the soul within.
Rotating parties deflect shared shame
Allowing complacency to be blamed.
Splintered populations can be tamed,
And bombs tend to leave bodies maimed.
Thieves steel gold and filch the free press,
Bobble heads working to keep up stress,
Businessmen sponsoring all this mess.
"We've got some pills if you feel depressed..."
We inherently trust their authority
As they outlaw nutrients due to toxicity.
In an effort to organize bioactivity
They count on our enduring apathy.
We protest lies, so they've built some pens.
Peace simply means they'll take our weapons.
"So go buy a widescreen for your den
To watch us start your wars again."
Even the name Bilderberg is a joke.
As they like it they’ve managed to fleece us broke,
Locking humanity into the yoke.
They sold the world lies before they ever spoke.
Crypto-eugenics is a fatal threat,
Academia functioning as a stooge pet.
Look into those eyes; they've got no regret
To kill us all off like they're clearing a debt.
Global control would only serve them well,
Micro chipped souls have no secrets to sell.
Salivate each time you hear their bell
Or they'll call themselves gods chasing you through hell.
Our oppressive puppet liars, they will not quit,
So don't waste breath saying, 'I'll submit.'
Words of our liberty are just and legit,
And truthful self-rule is a righteous fit.
When bureaucrats state dissent is treachery
In truth they've already sold their loyalty,
They still threaten our sovereignty.
Reclaim our human right to be free!
Hush little one I see and hear your tears
If only I could comfort you and squelch your fears.
I feel your fists pounding against my walls
I'll be with you no matter what trouble befalls
Your foster mother will one day have to face her fate
Don't let her teach you the meaning of the word hate
You are a wonderful child and have done nothing wrong
You must not let her break your spirit, please stay strong
Ignore her vulgar words, let them wash over you
Don't take it to heart, it's definitely not true
The bruises she inflicts will one day cease
I feel your anguish, use me as your release.
Make your dents on me to ease some distress
Frustration and anger you should never suppress
I want you as strong and solid as my own foundation
Please don't succumb to her inflicted demoralization
One day you'll be grown and will have a heart of gold
But for now my walls will watch, listen and always enfold.
Sponsor ~ Black Eyed Susan
Contest Name ~ If These Walls Could Talk.
October,
Time when jellyfish
Wash ashore
Cover beaches in
Rotted goo.
Count the numbers
In blue ballpoint
Mark the map
in red.
Right, left
Booted squelch
Sand and guts
Dropped the clipboard.
Running ink,
Sticky slime
Wunderbar wrapper
Clings to the page.
Telephone the department
Need another day
To get the numbers
Info lost in kidney juice.
“Got to do it now”
Before gulls,
Tide comes in, already
harmonica squawks echo.
A Greek mythological classical character chosen,
Medusa with her snake hair and stone stare, a frozen
Look turning people to stone, originally a vision of beauty,
A woman of erotic desire, who inflicted unimaginable cruelty,
Her destiny to become an unapproachable monster,
Many attempted to kill her, heroes and many a mobster,
Her punishment, all because Poseidon willfully raped her
Bringing about woe upon all women whoever they were.
The Greek God Perseus renowned for killing
Such beasts, ordered by King Polydectus whether willing
Or not, to go and bring back her head,
Perseus had a plan how to slay Medusa, delivering it dead.
This was a hero, but still sweat collected on his brow, DRIP
Drip, drip, but bravely approached her abode, a swift SNIP
Went his sharp sword which did ,SMASH
Down with might, and Medusa’s blood did SPLASH
It was rumored that from the severed head came a BELCH
As her blood in Perseus’s hands went SQUELCH.
This warrior’s deed was certainly brash, swiftly did snatch
Medusa’s head, Perseus the hero for whom there was no match.
Well worked his plan, held his shield at an angle, a space
At which he could see the reflection of her face
On his shield, but not look into her eyes, he scored an ace,
The horrifying snakes in her hair died, her eyes ablaze
A statue of Medusa’s head shown as averting assailant’s gaze.
Contest Entry: Onomatopoeia Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
Date: 01/11/2021
So many irksome dilemmas in life can be cured by simple solutions.
All are not necessarily fixed by the latest technological revolutions.
To remedy the many vicissitudes that rain down upon myself,
I grab that handy box of lowly baking soda reposing upon the shelf!
This simple, innocent looking stuff is good for many uses,
Including easing the pain of little kneesies that easily bruises.
'Tis useful for sweetening reeking walking shoes and garbage cans,
For shining silver and rejuvenating blackened pots and pans!
Even my inscrutable cat begins to purr a mile "purr" minute,
When I freshen his litter box by sprinkling baking soda in it.
If my auto picks up that scourge of the road, the dreaded tar,
Baking soda is just the thing for tidying up the car!
Why should I pay a plumber to unplug the clogged-up drain,
When a dollop of baking soda will the same results obtain?
It can be used as a toothpaste for making choppers look smarter,
Whitening them and controlling that nefarious tartar!
I've found that after my all too frequent sprees of gluttony,
That only a dose of baking soda relieves my gastric agony.
Its use for indigestion docs would discourage or even squelch.
Fiddle Faddle! I find instant relief in one humongous belch!
The Jackal's line of demarcation ye souls' furlough for interim...
Today, cockcrows perturb in a gala thrice for thee quiescent stay,
God's Park of Ephemera, sashays the daggled the minder harks,
a chest not in to rest, of dais edicts, cudgels so contagious;
haughty wheels peddle rashly between two havocked hearts,
foisting wintry fobs of progeny pleating to let pigeons exeunt,
if bedlam trotting by pothers ye, the cob, yet calmly sings,
"Fare-thee-well, Oh snowflake in dwindle, hallow me next spring,
via crepuscules, cleaved like vacant aulas crescendo conveyance,
wholly abutting city lights, this chimney calling cannot sight!"
Jolly pedestrians twinge at our capitol! Touring a mindful chance,
Ample of verve, knowing mortuary amblers must get their fight!
"Fountains, thawing ye? Janitor, what does the blind really see?"
tryst squelch time, squirm squander squalors n' ante antiquated feet,
Jocund or beh£s belief! Ye! Behind bellicose belletrists by beggars!
When baubles full-fledged, hast consummated thee to hobnob no more,
jongleur sloshed anchors on mimes bare laid laic stoolie, loupe aims,
Headmost, request lasting breaths above broadcasting fortune n' fame,
Then fated fires the Sniper jostles from home to goad n' prod,
Ye kindred stanchion and I, skimmed, the sunset even with me...