Best Staggers Poems
the morning air staggers above the lake
through trees, i almost feel it kissing me
my thoughts spiral down like leaves amidst fall
this emptiness is more than i can take
beneath closed eyes you are all that i see
yet emptiness haunts within morning's call
Sandy Adams
11/01/2013
SENSES FOR A SESTET
With silence weighed,
the moonlight fades
to play charade,
before it's found.
The moon on track,
folds into black,
then staggers back,
without a sound.
_____________________________________________
12//8/14 ” Remember what peace there may be in silence.”
For Nette's Contest DESIDERATA
By Carrie Richards
Winter Wildflower
A billion snowflakes do collect upon a wasteland of neglect
The sky frigid no sun to reflect appears a dot lonely specked
A tear does fall melting snow as the speck staggers to grow
A wildflower starts to sough as the winter winds seek to blow
***
Amidst frozen fields lost in time, a wildflower begins her climb
Awaking beauty stretches sublime with petals strutting chime
Behold the wonder you see displaying love near a wounded tree
No one bothers with her plea standing around the white debris
***
Courage keeps her alive with recluse radiant colors to survive
With a calming chill, she will thrive awaiting the storms to arrive
And dreams now blurred that the fallacious frost has spurred
Her silent screams are heard carried by the malign mockingbird
***
Standing still before the dawn alone a wildflower winging spawn
Within her will, she must go on before slumbers of her next yawn
Secluded in her salient solitude she eagerly embarks to be renewed
Now a wildflower subdued all she wishes is to be virtuously viewed.
...dedicated to my Mom, May.16.1941~Oct.24.2017...and to all the Wildflowers here at the SoupBowl...they know who they are...
Oct.22.2018
SEASONAL OR UNSEASONAL Poetry
Sponsored by: Kim Rodrigues
N/A for contest
When Dark Lust, Casts Its Gleaming Eyes On You And Me
When tears are sharp daggers that pierce a wounded heart
when within midnight terrors, this spirit staggers
ghastly beasts dine upon freshly torn body parts
as tragic love's flings its many poisonous darts.
When piercing cries, through moonlit night's echoing ring
when savage monsters, dance around rot and decay
as dead roses, their wafting aroma burns and stings
ghoulish monsters laugh, crown themselves as golden kings.
When dying moans, within blacken, deep bloody pits
when unholy hell, its gifts this world celebrates
are measures of life, and the dangers of deep hate
such is fodder for evil's grasp, at Hell's first gate.
When heart burns, with its embraced dark and wicked glee.
When dark lust, casts its gleaming eyes on you and me.
Robert J. Lindley, 2-17-2020
Darken Sonnet, ( A Look Into The True Darkness That Reigns On Earth )
Note: Composed as a prelude to the getting into the creative spirit
of the start of my writing of my Part Two of my Poe poem titled,
"The Hero, Raven, Poe And First Encounter, Part One" ,..
Dizzy cat
Staggers and spins out of reach...
Birdie laughs mocking
Lurking in the darkest shadows,
she looks for one of us to hound,
trying to catch a little glimpse
as she staggers along and limps
Spittle and drool keeps dripping
from yellow teeth and snarling lips.
She whines and hunches her back
picking out one of us to attack.
Alone because she's made enemies
of those who once pitied her, but
she never let us howl our intentions
and blocked any effort of intervention.
With watchful eyes she tries to be sly
and has an ego that's rude and annoying.
She's always waiting for the chance
to trounce, then do her trophy dance.
She takes swipes and nips at our butts
when she thinks she has the upper hand,
but her whining doesn't matter to us.
Our pack calls her 'the ornery old cuss.'
Let her coo and take those falsetto bows,
and let her think she's a ruling queen,
but we all know she's just a looney hyena
while we laugh at her haughty demeanor.
^. .^
1/31/17
Poetry in an animal's view
contest by Jamie
Dark side of Oakleys.
The black, short linen dress,
floats and careses her thighs,
a moition so sweet!
In the eveloping heat.
Fine african beads,
dance loose on dark skin,
caress the breasts above
from a heart beat within.
She sways, and he staggers
In a moment he stands
amongst all the sand that has
fallen, and crumbled off
the sandcastle Man.
Spiritual stagnation staggers senses
Insidious insanity of intermittent information
Gruesome gorging of gossips
Nauseating nature of narcissistic news
Oppression of other opinions
Flouting false faithfulness freely
Transparent traitors of truth
Hypocritical hype of haters
Evildoers exemplifying egregiousness
Transgressive territorial targets
Investigation into innocent itineraries
Mercilessly manipulating mainstream
Evidence effectively to expressively
Symbolize significant sign of the times
April 25, 2018
Sign of the Times Contest By John Hamilton
Third Place
One September morn, Barry is born, one day a little man that society will chastises every day, poisoned with dour memories of a life passing, staggers habitually along life’s broad way, yet still, he believes an ardent player of this earthly cast.
the mould human kind
every one naked the same
circumstance fate plays
One September morn Larry is born not a volunteer, into this place, no developing embryo given a democratic choice, but oh the joy the accolades, freedom of youth rampart significant, carte blanche credit card.
silver spoon protrudes
freewheeling society
so much to tire of
An unknown purpose aided each step, for Barry with holdall and worldly baggage around his neck, whilst trying to escape societies goals and social orders, life’s hypocrisy filed against this frail oppressed old man, living with a menial existence inside prejudiced borders.
daunting are the nights
beneath a blanket of fog
soul destroying dawns
Here Larry the mellow fellow who toast, boast every night drunk with his host, cocaine his specialty, whilst trying to escape societies goals and social orders, now his empire has closed the high life exposed a hobo a bench a lamppost his only light.
Barry and Larry
mix for the first time at the...
crematorium.
Entered 2022 Poetry marathon Mile 20
sponsor Mark Toney 12/11/2022
written 2021
a drunken honey bee staggers off a red juicy blossom
T
r
e
e—tall
g i r a f f e
U
p
t
o
t
h
e
N
e
c
k
Colored brown and yellow
Circles and patchwork quilts—t
and staggers far away a
on a wooden floor i
s s l
h h
a a
f f
t t
s s
3rd place contest winner
Scarecrow Addict
Gritted and dusty
Powered by flack jacket eyes
Bootsteps through grey puddles
Flotilla of cigarette butts
Trash kicked aside
In a desert of litter
Seeking the soulless of death
Chattering on split lips
The grimy irk of air
Festoons the rink and rack
The floating black
Sucks unbidden
Horses into battle ridden
Scream through his lungs
Broken weapons
Filled with empty bullets
Enemies in their colours run
Demon angel
Of the iridescent metal
In the bars of sculptured hell
For the hot choke of alcohol
Has squandered his nights
And burnt his will
The vengeance of mirrors
He cannot defy
He has become
The man with the gun
And rabid dog bark
Is the music
The fang gangster rap
Chews on his pride
Coughs back and spits
Too many drugs
To fill his hate
As he seethes through the alleys
The ricochet sound of poverty
Slaps hard at the cold
Whistle through the doorstep
The vicious snide crack
Scavenges his chest
Scarecrow buckshot
Trammels his lungs
And coughs up plastic
Iron girders against shattered walls
Where the whole world threw up
His sick
Chokes on the disgusting chuck up
Of need
So full of promises
But still lets in the freezing winds
To whined up urine stained
In the pallor
The colour
Of his sky
Bandit warrior and loser
This brave young man
Watched this driven and ploughed memory
Eat away
By iron vice drag
Devastate his pale haired wench
Leaving blood trailing on her breast
Pimped
She was
And hate in grey battered uniforms
Drove the callous on
And lifted him from the reeking cans
Of his desolation
Bled him through nights of sweat
And cold turkey chewed regret
The plaster wet billboard and pealing advert
Have no idea
What they have unleashed
Brittle as long dead bones
And screaming head
No longer hates
But still sneers revenge
In tattered loose rags
He staggers from the vomiting pit
Emaciated wolf
The grinning scarecrow eyes of merciless
And the jagged teeth of candle lit
The reek of vendetta
Hangs ever about his lips
And woe betide the gun smith
Woe betide indeed the needles
Wet prick
Nothing left to fight for
Other than
A long dead
Lover
Awaking from Stupor 1-16-24
It's not desire per say but the clinging
That stifles soul and stops heart from singing
Enlivening silence sets our souls free
Vibrant in the now, joyful and carefree.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Awaking from Stupor
Winter haze beats upon the door,
Drunken dreams cling to bitter cherries of midnight,
Before night sashays into white flurries of dawn
When dull eyes wrestle out of binding yesterdays,
And pink-purple pussywillow hallucinations,
Provoked
Awakened to dream
Throwing off phantoms of eiderdown illusions,
Dawning redeemed from the clutch of midnight shrouds,
Nascent emerges sipping sweet soul sunrises
Coaxed from aromas of grace,
From holographic hollow mazes,
While pale sleepwalking staggers into real
Returning with a rosy heartbeat flush
To leave in shadows lethargy of ragged pastels
Numb shades to retreat like useless ghosts
And cower in new auroras of primed breathless light,
Neon insights flash electric incentive,
Sparks ignite fertile tinder stored in silence,
Sentient eyes step into the womb reserved
For every new second purified
In percolation of harmonic animas –
Conscious and unconscious
Awake emergent -
Bliss consummated!
Footsteps of Midnight
Sealed in a cave
No beginning - no end,
No dawn – no dusk,
No sunrise – no sunset,-
Only the constant echoing footsteps of midnight,
Pursued – haunted -
Pushing the soul closer to the fine edge
Of madness swirling in a yawning abyss;
Icy terror rises up in streams of numbing vapors
With silent fingers ready to entrap
Any soul wandering too near this
Silent death,
Rumbling with satisfaction
At yet another soul held captive -
Deliciously drawing away
All life
Till eyes only stare into nothingness
Never finding satisfaction,
Never enough
To fill the rumbling hunger;
The soul staggers,
Bound up in hopeless whispers,
Unable to scream,
Unable to stand beneath the weight
Of narrowing passages,
Crushing air
From struggling lungs
Pulling in winter’s breath,
Freezing the soul from the inside out,
And even tears that once beckoned
Soothing relief
Look away
Despairing;
Hands reach out - one last frantic search -
Falling into hopelessness
To hear wild demons sneering –
Victors standing over vanquished –
Laughing
Until the echoes shred the very marrow of the soul;
No hope!
No hope for life!
Their screaming bounces off the walls;
Fingers tremble,
Stretching out
For any comfort, any warmth,
Discovering what eyes search
To believe
In annunciation –
A single ray of light,
Shattering the blackness,
Crushing the demons
And their laughter
While gentle arms caress the soul
Now reconciled,
Binding wounds
Where wounds bleed no more;
Night bound eyes see again
The precious face of love.
The bus stop says its out of use this week
Men are digging up the road again
I never knew that modern bus stops speak
I wonder will the street lamps follow suit
Their voices like the chiming of Bog Ben
The bus stop says its out of use this week
Maybe I can find another route
Will railway stations stutter like shy men?
I never knew that modern bus stops speak
How to travel ,hearing voices break
Pity and compassion hit my pen
The bus stop says its out of use this week
I fear my travel plans have gone astray
The journey I am on will never end
Did you know that modern bus stops speak?
From the dark grey sky the rain descends
Evolution staggers round the bends
The bus stop says it's out of use this week
I never knew that modern bus stops speak