Best Stomping Poems
Barely above a breathe
My identity dissolves
I am a freakish clown of weak display
Remnants of noble motions ripple flatter and wider along the lake
I am quieting everything, like tamping countless steam pipes
And so if these pipes sang they would sing, what?:
…there would be nothing
A dark translucent knuckle of vagaries
And twisted dreams
Dreamed-out and frosty falsehoods
I feel less love
As this stomping ox
Chained by the neck
Gazing through a moldy window
Shrieking from my patio chair
Down the road at 45 per hour
to the recycle center.
Just minding my own business.
When here comes a car
across the line in that 55 zone
STRAIGHT AT ME !!!!!!
Some idiot thumb stomping a cell phone!
Oh, don’t get me wrong.
I’m amazed at the prowess
of some of these hi tech gurus.
It’s like their finger has gone to Harvard.
Or maybe it’s a computer fed
bionic extension of the mind.
Or better yet
it has a mind of its own.
Maybe it’s a transmorphagration
of a mini me finger
that is the driving force
for that idiot doing the finger stomping.
Maybe the finger is the real him.
Well, he wont be doing that for a while.
When we both had spun out
and come to a grinding halt
in the same ditch bank.
I got out of my car
amidst all his cussing
and adjusted his attitude and
changed his cussing to caterwauling.
He made a sad mistake
by poking that marvel in my face
and saying just enough impolite things
that I grabbed that finger and bent it back double
fully expecting it to poof and fizzle
a little drizzle of smoke
like it shorted or something.
It just snapped.
It didn’t even crackle and pop.
It just snapped.
And that was the end of that.
© Jul 2011 Charles Henderson
One does not stamp out radicalism
any more than one outspends capitalism
or fights successfully against militarism
or overpowers totalitarianism.
We might fade out radicalism,
co-invest capital in cooperative objectives for health,
discern together removing threats of mutually assured violence
and democratize polycultural empowerment
by inviting therapy through all natural-spiritual nondual valuables,
dynamics and animations
within Earth's ecosystemic
universally open spacetime network.
How does it help to invite healing
by calling profound mental unbalance
cowardice?
Why choose the epithet "coward"
to describe terrorizing violent behavior
intent
thoughts against those who intend no active harm
to radicalized perpetrators?
Perhaps this is cowardly behavior
but this is not the first
or most significant
word coming to my mind.
This speaks of fear and anger
and chronically invested misanthropic hatreds,
fueled by competing over-heated environments,
internal and external.
To speak cowardice
to paranoia and ego-distorted sickness
only adds fuel to flames
we would more therapeutically abate
by inviting cultures of deep learning integrity
profoundly sacred ecology
multiculturally and polypathically seen and known
and felt,
inviting mutual embrace of fears
and angers
and lingering learned distrusts.
Chronic stamping on each other,
over each other,
causes further radicalism.
Chronic over-investing in WinLose strategies
caused ravages of capitalism,
dimming richer denser potential
within cooperative ownership and investment
of both capital and equity,
deductive minds and inductive hearts.
Chronic climates of advanced industrial militarism
cause further defaults toward competing
by violent fighting and threat.
Chronic ecopolitical overpowering
of those who feel angry and scared,
left out and behind,
fearful and terrified by violence,
their own and others'
stamping and stomping,
invites further totalitarian plutocracies,
rather than profoundly radical
healthy cooperatives
of growing nutritional democracy
of and for and by and through fair integrity,
cooperative trusting liberty
outshining rights of static freedom.
cowgirl stomping
rodeo romping
pasture clomping
faster chomping
joyful cowgirl boots
embroidered with a flower
wrinkled from a shower
with all kinds of kicking power
cowgirl stomping romping clomping boots
One hundred dollars
come out of each check
just for screetching and stomping,
but, ah... what the heck.
My kids screetch the fiddle
(aka, violin)
and I pray the poor teacher
let's them come back again.
And they stomp and they stamp
in their new clogging shoes,
and I pop some more asprin;
this headache's bad news.
But I just grin and bear it,
'Cuz I'm a proud dad
And now, three years later...
this isn't half bad.
Their fidd'ling's more fidd'lish
Even "Charlie Daniels"-esque,
And their feet stomp the rhythm,
It's not so grotesque.
I'll keep paying for lessons,
though they cost more than gold,
so the kids can entertain
their dear Dad when I'm old.
On my power walk this morning,
When my mind was in a muddle,
I was suddenly confronted
By a toddler in a puddle.
Now, the puddle was humongous -
It was like a little lake;
And this little boy was stomping,
Leaving ripples in his wake.
Though at first I thought him barefoot,
He had sandals on his feet
And his face displayed the hugest grin
You’re ever bound to meet.
Standing near him with his stroller,
Looking both amused and calm,
Was his parent waiting patiently –
Of course, it wasn’t mom.
For it surely takes a father
To not care if he got wet.
Neither cold nor dirt nor water
Would be thought of as a threat.
Yes, a father’s meant for frolic,
Not a part of the routine;
And cavorting in a puddle’s
Much more fun than keeping clean.
Yet I wish that I’d been witness
(I’d have gotten satisfaction)
To that father’s shock when he got home
And saw his wife’s reaction.
what if we were brain cells
communicating to fast for the eye to see
only were a baby's brain
always growing, living and dying
at an accelerate rate
now read this again
because it explains everything
Form:
A meathead is definitely not an ostracised ostrich, a warbling wavering walrus, a small but vintage vibrant beetroot who claps in time, a mascot at a match, a backwards facing grinning umbrella in bright sunlight, an automatic dimmer switch winking, nor is it a tattoo of a cartoon place-mat. Basements cook eels. Slip slide slip slide smile nothing now noted north nautical nonetheless nonsensical note. Been beer beans. Wow in a jar of a car. *** Hahaha presenting a show are we? Fictitious fictional frameworks falling. Hahahha off a cliff are the best sunsets. Xxxxx dilatational diluted dripping dramas draw.
"oooo Ng hai saja hai"
Epilogue
Z
Form:
I recall driving past the place I used to live;
it triggered a flood of old memories.
Oh, I just had to drive back there!
And with the thoroughness
of an obsessively determined detective,
I did discover relics of the past.
Surroundings familiar though many years have passed
I broadly smiled as I waxed reflective;
old neighbors recalled with fondness.
I sat, wondering where
life has taken them; lost in a deep reverie.
Fine stardust of nostalgia, I sieved.
Haunting ghosts of yesteryear I fondly relived!
Lawn I blew dandelion seeds every...
so often, kept in superb care.
Expanded, narrowness...
of pathway in the backyard; like a detective,
walking my old stomping grounds. Back, at last.
Submitted for...
A Little Memory - My Invented Form - Poetry Contest (Winner: 1st Place)
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Rhyme Pattern ABCDEF FEDCBA ABCDEF
Syllables are 12/10/8/6/12/10 12/10/8/6/12/10 12/10/8/6/12/10
Date written: 01/09/2021
An ill tempered young woman who claims to love god but hates authority; yet she spews blunder and blasphemy in her painstaking state of gossip.
While I sit and listen to her menace like behavior; similar to a dictator rallying troops for a revengeful cause.
Her spiritual being announces a trumpet for the Roman empire as they persecute Jews in the time of change.
She seems indifferent yet coerced into an angry ill tempered young woman that mocks God but worships Idols in the time of Cesar.
Taking advantage of the weak.
Then she bows down and no longer speaks…..
Heavy footprints conduct sound,
Inducing anxious looks left and right.
Attempts to pinpoint the birthplace,
Only encourage lingering discouragement.
Where?
Where?
Tormenting the still untroubled air,
The stomps only leave a temporary sand footprint.
Never to be deciphered,
Only appearing to disappear.
Where?
Where?
Echoing closer as hearts thump,
Nerves fail to reach a breathable paradise.
The stomps cease to fade,
As your mind fails to realize the menace stomping around is within.
there you go, stomping
on the rainbow of my heart
emptying the gold
Cynthia
Wet paint glistens and gleams,
Reeks of 'do not touch me' aroma.
But you just can't resist prodding a finger in,
Leaving finger stuck, and paint job ruined.
Why, Oh why, can't you leave well enough alone.
Warning signs clear in friend's eyes
Looking down and away,
Disengaged not contacting eye to eye.
But you have to poke, prod and intrude.
Why, Oh why, can't you leave well enough alone.
Sensibility is sensible sensitivity.
It is knowing when and how far
To put your toe in the water,
Before the foot sinks right in.
Why, Oh why, can't you leave well enough alone.
its hot i dance a lot
i can help but dance
it puts me in a trance
its got me humping
and jumping
THIS MUSIC FEET STOMING
Kindergarten students in Miss G’s class rushed right in
Clapping, smiling, stamping, tromping, stomping, laugh’n.
They loved that she had transformed their door into a gingerbread house.
One of them began chanting “not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse”.
Kindergarten students love it when you go the extra mile.
Their enthusiasm that day made Miss G clap and smile.
Two more weeks until winter break, she announced to them.
“Can’t we move in here with you?” asked a little guy named Jim.