Best Straggle Poems
Once again befalls the night,
The birth of dark; the death of light.
The shroud that veils the light of day,
Of silk and lace does lightly lay.
And so the mourners straggle on
Each waiting for a coming dawn;
Yet this is not a common night--
T is the birth of dark...
And the death of light!
~M
Heavily laden boats, rectangular sails billowing
Under seas of low cloud, braving the fierce Yangtze;
Held between snowcapped mountains, earth and sky
Indistinguishable from steaming mist and rolling fog;
A long drawn straggle of Grey Geese plummeting down
From breathless, rarefied air to stumble awkwardly onto
Plum coloured mudbanks; an unrestrained, excitable
Cacophony of frenzied honking! Then wild monkeys
Provoked into howling each side of the river.
There, at the juncture with Longjin Brook, stilted homes,
Half-hidden by bamboo groves, crouch at the waters
Edge; maidens will come to wash clothes
Whirling wooden batons, twittering like golden swallows;
Fragrant wildflowers enhance their sweetness.
At drab, pale, first-morning light, fishermen cast
Nets over the cooling, placid blue waters;
The fish that swim here are said to be the finest
In the province.
We will exchange Black Carp and Blunt-Snout Bream,
Wrapped in moist bamboo leaf, for glutinous rice
With the clans that tend the terraces inside the fertile
River valley...
Does not the Emperor insist upon good commerce?
If you are dissatisfied as a peasant
You can take the ancient "old tea horse road"
And burden your back with heavy bales stacked high
On a rail;
The road will take you all the way from Zigui
To Tibet...or even further perhaps,
And sombre ravens will soar overhead and taunt your
Every footstep.
But I will remain where I am, in the
Village On The Water
Nestled deep within the Three Gorges;
My life, the endless horizon stretched beyond,
Held in balance as if it were Shaseng
The Shadow Play Stone;
And each new morning awakening to slow,
Chiming bells.
I buzzed around
Amid our clan’s beesound.
My swarm buzzed in cloud
In beespeak spoke aloud.
But the babble of the bees
Suddenly did cease,
For one with gut swollen,
Legs burdened by pollen,
Dropped out of the swarm
And sounded an alarm.
We came to a rest,
Behaved at our best,
To ken what he’d say,
On this blessed day.
He dropped on the ground,
Did a hop and a bound.
Like showman he pranced,
Strutted and danced,
Clockwise he went,
Clear message he sent.
It was the bees waggle!
It told the straggle
Where lay the flowers,
Nectar and pollen showers!
So off we took to flight,
All of us were light,
To be glutted by dusk,
With bounty of bees' musk!
Basking in the sun,
His waggle now done,
The hero of the bees,
Gloried as the bee’s knees!
If you may die old or young,
With all yearning and desire,
Knowing this song not yet sung,
With aspiring air through cold lung,
Thine books and wallet on shelf,
Straggle attires and overcoat,
And money in thy account,
Futile towards thy own self,
Sidekick to comrades, kith and kin,
Forgot as quickens as floating fin,
And you'd be like the erstwhile paper pin,
For which place not more than a bin,
Mourning faces and words of condolence,
Can't resurrect thou back in this cosmos,
For which thou had pile up wealth with esurience,
And base the sketch of castles with hopefulness,
Alas the hard thou beaver for this temporary respite,
Cause you want to reach the fabulous height,
Working dawn to dusk from day to-night,
Knowing this world is illusion sight,
And single alarm neither makes you fright.
I lie back in the weather-proofed green chair
To gaze up at the flowering maple tree.
Now, touched by sun,lungs full of scented air
I embrace with joy the beauty I now see.
Old celandine show brightly by my feet
Neglected currant bushes straggle round the path
There is no birdsong yet a silence sweet
Soothes my heart and quietens my wrath.
For my heart's sore and anguished is my mind
Yet in this little wood I feel deep calm.
My eyes are shadowed and my face is lined.
May this green spring bring me a gentle balm.
For even in depression and deep grief,
The mind makes healing medicine of a leaf.
Part 1
The straggle into the board room, as usual was a bore
Idly quoting poets long dead, only this and nothing more
Howled when we learned TGIF fridays were forever gones
Terrible gnashing of teeth, moaning as we fanned bygones
Shouts of poets rebelling, tweeting, only this for evermore
Part 2
The question was asked how to whitewash this poetry threat
Perhaps fly them to the Zanzibar Meet on the corporate jet
Hoping they would argue ad infnitum over poor Carrol's license
And no one, not even the ceo, would notice their absence
Only this we ask and nothing more, just leave the corporate pet.
Part 3
After hours of arguing themselves silly,
Paid careful attention to Recuerdo by Milly
An Edna Saint reading that is, that brought tears
And wiped away those petty, bourgeois fears,
Even returning the pet, saying goodbye to pissiness.
When we were young, we'd freely roam
While supervision stayed at home.
We played the seasons' major sports
On vacant lots and playground courts.
No tryouts or permission slips.
No uniforms or coaching tips.
No judges, umpires, referees,
Or grownups whom we had to please.
Whoever came could join right in.
We'd choose the teams and then begin.
No clock was used to time the game.
We played until the darkness came.
We mended balls and broken bats
And yapped and scrapped like dogs and cats.
In worn-out shoes, we'd all day run
And tanned by sun with friends have fun.
Together we would strategize
And future glory fantasize.
With candy bars as fuel we'd play
And straggle home at end of day.
We taught ourselves what's right and wrong
And how to play and get along.
We sought no trophies nor acclaim,
But played because we loved the game.
The regimented kids today
Obey whatever coaches say.
They sadly do not know how free
A game among themselves can be.
Tongue twister line:
From the rustic rover to Samuel Sanders, they try to tickle the tongue with tricky tongue twisters.
1. A rustic rover round the ricks ran restlessly, and restive, he rushed to the nearby rural rill to reinvigorate himself. Then whoever he met, he ranted and raved with him or her with reckless arrogance. Revivified and rejuvenated, the vagrant straggler across the riverbank rumbled and rumbled , and trounced a regal recluse that triggered a fiery ruction. Then another rowdy ragamuffin slapped him hard and a furious rabble raised an unprecedented rumpus.
2. Samuel Sanders, a saucy salesman with sable brow, had an ancestral house in Sussex, but since he was a man of gypsy psyche, of late he strayed into Surrey and settled there for squarely six months, and then set out to straggle across the Sicilian seashore seeking psychological solace in the serene and suave sound of the seawaves.
3. You can't put a better bit of butter on your platter because a martyr did shatter the packet of your butter as it did welter in the gutter, but that waiter did cater you this later, muttering about an utter butter-hater from Gloucester with bitter hauteur.
19th November, 2016
A straggle of figures litters the path
Stumbling, windblown, straying apart,
A ragged assembly against graphite clouds,
Inky - black smudges blurred by the rain
Flapping dark shadows, crows circle above them.
Struggling, the figures cluster together
Wearily shuffling, standing then slumping.
Rag dolls with stuffing steadily leaking.
Far away faintly, a wind-torn crying,
The fading call of a solitary bird
Nearer, the sound of someone sighing
And the soft thudding of falling earth.
I die to count you when you smile
I die to see you when you smile
I act stupid things in search to count
I think me fool when i search
I think How to count
I straggle a lot to find
I got 6 cristal teeth you show when you smile
I die one day when i see your laugh always smile
Smile of my princess
With love all
jagdish bajantri
There is often a moment
after a good class,
when because of the beauty of things said,
and comments made,
you know some chords,
were struck.
And some students linger,
feeling the echo
and reverbs of those chords,
and more comments are made
in hopes of reviving the moment.
Eventually all realize
that the class is over,
and we all straggle
out to the night time parking lot.
All wonder,
myself included,
the last one out the door
and locking up,
why such moments
ever have to end.
Summer Beach
Sifting warm sand
through my fingers
lustrous fine grains
glitter my palm.
Soothed by
the soft powdery touch,
I sit for a while
under the rocks,
my bare feet
swirl patterns in the sand
as I watch
a beach life unfold.
Bustling mothers
set up home
on plaid blankets
colourful beach bags
spilling with towels
buckets, spades
strewn all around,
a picnic stored
under an umbrella,
children gathered
skip giddy with glee,
scent of sunscreen
on lily white limbs.
My gaze drifts to
little pink sisters,
chubby faces
bubbling with desire.
Nimble bodies
straggle the sand,
wrapped in a world
of castles and dreams.
They stud mounds
with pearly shells
whispering stories
of princes
and princesses.
At the water’s edge
long legs prancing
tiptoeing warmth
into an icy sea.
Lads
splash and play,
high jumping the waves.
Ball punched into the air,
hands outstretched
grappling madly,
they plunge
in an explosion
of salty laughter.
Strolling the tide line,
bare feet on wet sand,
I bask for a moment
beneath a honey sun,
life sparkling
on a diamond afternoon.
MMC © 2011
An Elusive Star
In the vast silvery world he walked
Between dancing white elves of snow,
Singing to him in soft suppressed sounds:
"Come to us, stay with us"
Sirens in white, shivering entities,
teasing his weaning fickle stability.
His blind eyes spoke to his deaf ears,
pleading to his confused mind to
turn around and straggle back.
But all he wanted was to see that one star,
and to stop everything there.
While his gait slowed down and halted,
A duvet of white cold warmth enveloped
his lonely determination, and he dropped
to his knees in the icy realization that
he finally found the elusive star.
While a fissure emerged beneath his knees,
the star welcomed him in, and carried
him away in rippling soothing numbness.
He embraced to be saved from a world,
where no one saw his bitter desolation.
An unseen being amongst haste and hurry,
until he was nothing but a shadow among them.
***
February 21, 2017
N/A in Contest: Invisible
Sponsor: Lewis Raynes
wangle an angle
then you should try to tangle
with what they dangle
while you will waggle
a deal that you did haggle
along should straggle
Jim Horn
Jim Horn
Kiss not kiss,
Kiss yes kiss,
Kiss for kisses,
As sins for death,
Kiss not me
I cried,
But kiss me
Cried another,
I waken up emotions,
And give ambitions to many,
And kiss me, said me
And kiss not me,
Said my jealous neighbour,
I straggle all
And even myself
I know love and not hatred.
Kiss not kiss,
Kiss yes kiss,
Kiss for kisses,
As sins for death,
I speak of nothing,
Yet I ask for something,
I call not men
Yet I bring them together,
I play not the piper,
Yet they dance to the tune.
I ask not questions,
Yet I answer them.
Kiss…