Best Stirred Up Poems
I found a box when my mother died
And saw the me I was inside.
Big blue eyes and auburn locks,
Rolled up skirt and blue knee socks.
Glee club programs, old year books
Awards and rings tucked into nooks.
And there, a picture of a boy
Who filled my teenage years with joy.
Jeans and tee shirts, hockey skates,
Rock and roll and concert dates.
A soul that made my young heart sing-
First love, first kiss, first everything
As we grew up we slipped apart.
For other places we’d depart
To different schools and different lives,
On to lovers, husbands, wives.
But sometimes I would feel regret.
Years passed and I could not forget.
I’d wonder what he’s doing now -
The where and when and why and how
Fate intervened one Fall and then,
We found each other once again.
I met him on the street one day
And forty years just slipped away.
And right away with no surprise
I saw the boy in the grown man’s eyes.
Our fingers intertwined. The thrill
Told us that we were in love still.
We strolled around that day and kissed,
And spoke of all that we had missed.
Though the happiest we’d been in years
I knew that it would end in tears.
The old desires stirred up anew,
But we knew what we had to do.
Aware some lines must not be crossed
Because there’d be too great a cost.
We left each other and slept alone
Each with a spouse in a lonely home.
To dream of things that might have been
And hope that we cross paths again.
I cherish my handsome rock and roll boy
Who gave a young girl so much joy.
By loving the girl with the auburn locks
The rolled up skirt and blue knee socks.
Categories:
stirred up, absence, boyfriend, growing up,
Form:
Quatrain
Mississippi Moments
History journeys along with its meandering flow as
a wide birth from bank to bank has eyes straining
trying to see across to the other side, far too wide.
Muddy rivulets stirred up by the river boats drift by
and my dreams become intertwined with what
I have read and the sleepy house boats floating near
the banks that the river dwellers call home.
A huge stainless steel arch with its catenary curve
looms gracefully nearby as a gateway of welcome,
built as a monument to Thomas Jefferson and the
pioneers who braved making their way to St. Louis,
why it is fondly called “the Gateway to the West.”
I felt as if the Arch was paying homage to the mighty
Mississippi with its tall shadow falling on her erratic waters.
Children were waving from the banks at contented tourists
waving back as they drifted slowly by and time stood still
with the music of the river taverns mingling with the
contrasting sounds of riverboat whistles, and I drifted along
with them sensing serene pleasure into another time and place.
Categories:
stirred up, nostalgia, places, river,
Form:
Narrative
On the bank of the James River,
Virginia Colony,
a proposal was conceived to constrain the African fire.
The ploy, a real achievement in the West-Indian settlements.
In Rome, bodies were paraded along the byways,
to make a statement.
My Massa used ropes.
We dangled by our necks like roosters in a slaughter house.
When the pining for liberty was stirred up in the marrows of our bones,
we set ablaze a few bungalows,
and murder some dumb beasts.
The statement we made was called an uprising.
The fields were abandoned, the livestock ran wild,
and the slothful young mistress had to breast-feed her own child.
The scheme had the ingredients of breaking a mule,
and Virginia Colony was the first lab for creating fools.
A prophet’s blessing was given to the merchants,
and black diamonds were shipped;
they were purged of the soil of the mother land.
A new being was fashioned, dependent on Massa.
A man was set against his consort and his seeds,
and the whips wrote rules on our backs in their faces;
our pride drained from the gorges in our hides,
and respect slowly seeped from their eyes.
The bond was broken;
a ***** was concocted
without the spirit of Ghana, the Warrior King,
and the Ashanti, the pre-colonial backbone.
Should we not push as a woman in nativity for the renaissance?
Categories:
stirred up, angst
Form:
Lyric
Scented smoke from sandalwood upwards rose
As the venerable sage in yogic pose
Chanted arcane, esoteric Vedic prose.
The Sylvan glade with marigold and rose,
Where the doe with its deer fearlessly goes,
For its tranquility the Rishi chose.
The ancient mantras of mysterious force
Stirred up the Asuras, put them in throes,
Invoked the Deva, who blessings bestows.
The demons destroyed, there were no further woes,
The sage sat in peace his sagas to compose.
Born thus were amanuenses of Epics, I suppose.
~ 10 May 2016 ~
Categories:
stirred up, fantasy, imagination,
Form:
Monorhyme
Carrots for breakfast, carrots for lunch, Carrots for dinner, crunch, baby, crunch.
What are your immediate feelings about soup on a plate?
Vegetable and broccoli potato are both well worth a wait.
Don’t gag on the mushrooms,
You big ugly buffoons.
Crunch them up meticulously slowly, and good luck,
Don’t be afraid of disease, though they’re grown in the muck.
Pudding for dessert,
Who would, you blurt.
Oh, sorry, I mean, what’s that you say?
You could eat pudding any ole’ day?
Enjoy your leisurely dine,
And eat your pudding refined.
Chocolate, caramel and pistachio.
They are all stirred up warmly nice and slow.
Delicious delicacies on paper is a poet’s go-to write,
Everyone loves to think about taking an enormously tasty bite.
Spaghetti, pizza, meat loaf too.
All main dishes for me and you.
Hamburger, egg salad, smeary and good.
I’d eat it all up and be completely satisfied if I could.
Categories:
stirred up, 2nd grade, 3rd grade,
Form:
Couplet
Loneliness is not just being alone.
It is something you feel deep in your bone.
You feel it even when you’re in a throng.
A sad, strange sense that you do not belong.
It may be traced back to your mother’s womb
when evil forces who wanted your doom,
stirred up rejection in your mother’s heart
causing the two of you to grow apart.
When mother’s emotions are running wild,
they surely do affect her unborn child.
Regret over an unwanted pregnancy
can lead to feelings of despondency.
If as a child you always felt alone,
even when around your own flesh and bone.
Today may be the time to start the quest,
to research the loneliness in your breast.
You may never find, what the reason be,
for the loneliness that resides in thee.
But there’s a cure available for free.
Being a friend to someone is the key.
Whatever the reason or the cause,
let not loneliness lock you in its jaws.
Get out of your room, and bring out the broom,
Sweep loneliness away, then start to bloom.
O lonely soul, forgotten and forlorn.
Come to me, your savior, whose heart was torn.
I, like you, felt rejected and alone,
So, come, I will make you my very own.
Categories:
stirred up, cheer up, childhood, encouraging,
Form:
Rhyme
Sweetest child in the school
5th grade
Giant puppy
If you said the sweetest kid ever
I could name him
And I would
Cry Cry Cry
I feel horrible.
Bring him to my office
Who hurt him?
What did they say?
What did they do?
In Mama Bear mode
I am going to take no prisoners
They can lie in cages eating wallpaper
And will want to after I get finished with them
Many tears later I discover
The trickster told him that he said that they said that he said that she said.
I am horrified.
I have taught six million lessons on
Not being stirred up by he-said-she-said nonsense
We discuss my lessons
Which he forgot in the heat of the moment
I know the instigator. He is a piece of work.
Can stir faster than me even, and I am pretty good at it.
Finally change subject
What will he do tonight for fun?
He finally says play ball.
A bit of a smile
Tears start
Then tears up again.
His bat is lost.
Wait a second, I say.
In the house?
Head nod.
It has to be under
something long, a bed
or a couch right?
He is stymied
Not sure now what
emotion to feel
“Do you mean I am going to have
to come to your house tonight and find our bat?”
He gives me directions and his address.
I smile.
“And what would your mother say if an old woman
Came to your house to help you find our bat?”
He stares at me a long time.
“Thank you?” he whispers.
I love sweet supersensitive
Innocent 5th grade boys
Before they fall into
the clutches of the 21-year-old
6th grade girls.
Categories:
stirred up, anti bullying, bullying, school,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
sometimes to hold it together
it's better to leave it alone
to forgive and forget the heartache
and learn from what is known
can you file it all away?
or hide it under a rug
pretend it doesn't really matter
cast off with another shrug
wasn't a love worth saving
the time a total waste
when the glass is finally empty
with a bitter aftertaste
what becomes of the sediment
when to the bottom it falls
only to be stirred up
when these thoughts recall
I can live with all the doubt
I can live with what you missed
I can live without your love
and other things on the list
it changes my direction
a path you already took
you found what you were seeking
not so much as a second look
Categories:
stirred up, angst, lost love
Form:
Verse
Was by the pool, sporting a Speedo
Cursed with overactive libido
I did all that I could
Now, I'm just sporting wood
The damned thing looked like a torpedo
So I used my towel, trying to hide
But still, it wouldn't swallow my pride
The shadow from my shaft
Was creating a draft
And it stirred up a crowd a mile wide
The line stretched from here to the border
Trump signed an Executive Order
News choppers filled the air
Bigfoot could only stare
Cher begged, but I couldn't afford her
Categories:
stirred up, humorous,
Form:
Limerick
Clear skies of blue and clouds of white
Bathed by sunshine above
Create such a beautiful sight
Instilling feelings of love
Lighting up the greenery below
Of the trees, grasses and plants
Giving them an enchanting glow
Setting the stage for romance
The ripples on the nearby lake
Stirred up by a gentle breeze
Invite the viewer to partake
With feelings of peace and ease
Such samples of Nature's nectar
Are free to each one of us
We are all a part of Nature
and Nature is part of us
Categories:
stirred up, love, nature, peace, romance,
Form:
Quatrain
They write in the language of perfume
flowery powdered words all layered
colours rising and lowering
in different light spectrums
as if the reader could discern
without wisened translator
their seductive dimensions
conveyed within
their small larger other worlds
notes upon notes, heady notes,
their subtle infractions
like music tinkling through
the brain bleeds, poets
and their otherworldly refrains,
naphthalene aired for old time’s sake
shaken out like clean crisp white sheets
billowing in the translucent lingerie breeze,
bedrocks shaken
the little flocks
small black murders flying
provocatively erratic stirred up
off the cobalt page
into an evocative
higher wider
elusive space
taken shockingly aback
where the heady blast
of Spirit of Hartshorn
shakes buried lover’s awake
to walk barefoot and naked
blindly in love
touching each other
through the long wet days
sugar-coated addictions
tall poppies crimson pimpernels
wading nubile through blades
of silver moon grass
licking their ankles and heels
raising their prim outskirts,
forbidden territories
within the rising mist,
the ever present,
like a breeze,
kisses their ripe
cherry orchards
unending hunger
satiated, all is manna
as they meander
through daze of
dusky dawn valleys
those garden of eden thighs,
the transparent,
slithering like hands
caressing treasure trunks
ivy leaves for plucking
further up above
the high waists
to touch what
wastes away, unheard,
what beats there,
where the crown sits
like some holy being
under its ribbed cage
red ripe like a seeded apple,
that place, just there, beating
singing some kind of hymn,
like a regulated anthem,
they're way up into their feels
like some devilish chase
like heaven's come
calling them away
They write in the language of perfume
flowery powdered words all layered
colours rising and lowering
in different light spectrums
as if the reader could discern
without wisened translator
their seductive dimensions
some things are better
left unsaid
like this Magdalene,
K.I.S.S.
Candide Diderot. ‘24
Categories:
stirred up, heaven, romance, sensual,
Form:
Free verse
There was a time in Scotland when
Three hundred years before,
The English laws sought to condemn
The Scots for what they wore.
The sporran, kilt and tartan shawl,
One each for every clan,
Steeped in tradition, symbols all -
The culture of a land.
The laws unleashed by English King
They Scottish rights denied
Intent upon dismantling
Their power and their pride.
"For national security" -
A lie to justify
Oppression and state bigotry,
To which most do comply.
The past is past, you well might say,
Now Scots their colours don -
But now new laws proposed today
Cast doubt on freedoms won.
That same old lie, "Security"
Has stirred up hate and fear
Towards Muslims in our country
Now marked for what they wear.
In all this time, what have we learned?
Are we condemned to see
The same old fear and hate return
For all of history?
October 15, 2015
Categories:
stirred up, discrimination,
Form:
Quatrain
Lost, to the darkness, deep ...
This bleak sojourn I have made times on end,
dipping my eyes to the dreadful forms that mock me,
a maelstrom of words spinning my mind,
to pinch off the oppressive stench of this place.
You have beckoned me, ages hence,
howling and shrieking like a puerile revenant,
'til the discordant consequence I could refuse no more.
Hope, they call you? Oh, such a horrid and cruel parody!
Do you see in me a fool, then? A jaded harlequin?
A multitude of monikers be yours, but THAT is the most absurd,
and it shall not tremble my lips! Have you not known me ...
in all the scratchings of dread and despair - in that stark honesty?
You are the bastard of my passions,
and you have worn this flesh as your own ...
oh, how long I watched from the depths of sorrow
as you danced in my form, somber moon cackling like a demon.
How you strangled the very spirit from my trembling bones,
my marrow sucked like pulpy food for your pleasure.
Such exquisite agony! Such divine misery, mine!
Carnal truth scrapes, raw, the depths of my spirit, with grisly intention ...
The blood of my kind heart, stirred up and imbibed as your remedy,
the clotted matter spit in my face with magnificent madness.
Alas, Dear Oblivion, the ebon sky now weeps ...
stars streaking earthward like ragged rain,
'Til the heavens are as The Torment - lightless, devoid, barren, and bloody.
Thus, the last breath of a saint, becomes the first breath of a monster,
and in feigning prescience of an answer that will never come,
I ask of you, "Hope", in utter terror and awe ... why?
Why do you taunt me so?!?
~ 4th Place ~ in the "Poe In Plath Style" Poetry Contest, July Morning, Sponsor.
~ 5th Place ~ in the "Emotional Anger, Hurt, Rage" Poetry Contest, Lewis Raynes, Sponsor.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Deep and Dark II" Poetry Contest, Laura Loo, Sponsor.
~ 6th Place ~ in the "In the Dark" Poetry Contest, Russell Sivey, Sponsor.
Categories:
stirred up, dark, deep, hope, introspection,
Form:
Free verse
Some Things will End but Memories Last Forever
We do different things in our daily life and may forgot some things before we went to sleep at night.
And most of us have no problem with that, because if we need to remember all the things that we’ve experience every day then our memory will be quickly overloaded.
That would lead to an exaggerated nervous and the possible consequences is give us a psychological complication.
Ends up with many experiences to keep in the forget zone of our brains and we never more thought about it or looked back, because those were things that not interesting enough for us to think back.
This is something very great if we could forget quickly for those bad things which happened and gave us an unpleasant experience in life.
Then all positive enjoyable moments will stay everlasting in the memory of our brain.
It would be very happy for us to only think back our joyful memory with an emotionally smile.
But now comes the not so funny part of our life, with an emotional abuse or bad experiences that hurt our hearts.
We have a separate room (storage) in our brain to keep this bad memory from the worst event in our life.
The bad experience will remain in our memory for the rest of our life and it will haunt us again when we are facing something similar in future.
Because we are always reminded of the horrific moments of life and thereby get all stirred up again in our memory which can give us a bad feeling.
Try to forget those bad memories forever and not to think about it back because it is not worth to lose our energy on it.
Keep only those positive things in our brain, don’t let the negative thinking influence and ruin for our life which give frustrations in our future.
Say Goodbye to the bad memory in our life and only remember things which can give us happiness forever.
I wish you a healthy life.
Kindly Regards,
Author Jan Jansen
http://poems.easybranches.com/things-will-end-but-memories-last-forever.html
Categories:
stirred up, memory, poems, poetry,
Form:
Prose Poetry
& when you finally die,
they will not let you rest---
for to finally get to enter every orifice
of your once secret world
is something that vultures dream of
late at night,
before cumming in their jammies
to the thought of discovering
what was never ever their business to begin with---
and when they get what they want,
they’ll puncture it with a stake &
run all over the televised town square
amidst interviews with people who will
say that they are your friends now &
family members who will say they always knew you,
all wretches whose boredom in life can be stirred up
into a freshness for a day or so
by the vomiting up of lies concerning a
dead person for the national public.
ever heard the stories of the sap whose **** collection or
drug stash was found by the weeping family members after
the tragedy?
ever heard a story come from the mouth of an individual so very worried
that when it is all over,
the “real” them will be discovered?
unfortunately,
the incessant curiosity of mundane, mediocre minds
has no limit &
to make themselves feel more alive &
better about their own failings,
they’ll stop at nothing to find out everything about
anyone,
when said individual is no longer alive
to ask them politely
to stay out of their business.
Categories:
stirred up, life, drug,
Form:
Free verse