Best Straggled Poems
In the midst of a wet night,
Discovered myself upon a viaduct.
Straggled or vagrant, uncertain.
Not petrified by the dark, rumbling sky,
Amazed to find the place familiar.
I perceived the faintest advancing steps,
On turning back, delighted with her presence.
The cold, shivering breeze,
Waved her black long hair.
I insisted not to blink.
She ambled,
At my fore now, only whispered.
I apologize greatly, for concealment, for eons.
I was denied your presence: a shadow's grace.
Only welcoming death set my soul free.
Fate unveiled its script,
Offering me a last goodbye.
Imparting my truth before the noose claims me.
My world knows no dawn since....
Now gone, shine bright, bring me dawn once more.
Conveying my farewell,
I plunged into the water.
Bewildered-reincarnated.
Faced....
My damp eyes.
Two Aloha-shirted Hawaiians
of generous girth were strumming
their ukuleles
on a small stage in front of the hotel’s poolside bar
in the late afternoon,
rehearsing for the night’s performance.
It must have been the low season,
as both bar and pool were deserted.
and the singer, unburdened
by a leis-laden audience’s
Mai Tai-soaked expectations,
was going through a mele
as if trying it on for size,
his voice loose-limbed with an easy grace.
Wrapped in the ukuleles' lolling strains,
his falsetto notes tumbled out into an
uncongested airspace,
where no ceiling formed by small talk, disjointed laughter
or tinkling glasses impeded their progress,
so they unfurled their wings,
lifted themselves into the hibiscus-brushed breeze,
and climbed,
hopscotching and frolicking on their ascent,
skipping from Tiki torch to treetop to balcony.
Some straggled, loitered on windowsills.
Some, afraid of heights, fluttered back down
to rest on top of beach umbrellas
next to shadows of palm fronds.
Still others hang-glided out over the sand
and the lapis water,
lured by the marigold light.
So that, when they alighted on my
hotel room balcony ten floors above,
they were fragments,
excerpted by the intervening air
from the upflowing cascade into
a broken yet voluptuous murmur,
a soft, lilting South Seas benediction
floating around my head.
I’d just sat down in the balcony chair, alone,
my wife being inside the room busying herself
with the correct placement of luggage
after we’d checked in.
And so it was that I found myself looking out
at the beginnings of a sky-painting Maui sunset
accompanied by air that quietly sang.
Maybe it was my senses unwinding
after the bustle of the journey,
or maybe it was simply that I was caught unawares,
but the feeling of contentment,
the almost Zen-like awareness of the here and now,
that overcame me at that moment was something
no convergence of sights and sounds
has been able to reproduce in the 20 years since.
It was, to be sure, an experience I’d paid more than
a negligible amount of money for.
The irony is that it was the first time
I truly understood the simplicity of happiness.
Mahalo.
A murder of crows straggled
across the grey February sky
with light snow slowly falling
blanketing the world in untracked
silence, until we crossed coyote
tracks setting off Xena’s baying.
Back home, after breakfast and
coffee, I fired up the laptop to
pink flamingos before blue water,
Windows 10’s screen of the day.
Christ and the Soldier by Siegfried Sassoon (1916)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-7OEnXw7P60
The straggled soldier halted and clumsily went down "O blessed crucifix, I'm beat !"
Christ still sentried by a seraphim between two splintered trees did speak
"My son, behold these hands and feet."The soldier eyed him upwardas he muttered, "Wounds like these, Would shift a bloke to Blighty just a treat !"
Christ, gazing downward grieving and ungrim, Whispered,
"I made for you the mysteries, beyond all battles moves the Paraclete."
The soldier chucked his rifle in the dust, slipped his pack, wiped his neck, then said -- "O Christ Almighty, stop this bleeding fight !"Above that hill the sky was stained like rust With smoke. In sullen daybreak flaring red, the guns were thundering and the soldier cried,
"I was born full of lust,hungry and thirsty, with a wishfulness to wed. Who cares today if I done wrong or right?" Christ asked , "Can you not trust my word? Am I not resurrection, life and light ?"
Machine-guns rattled from below, high bullets flicked and whistled through the leaves; smoke came drifting from exploding shells.
Christ said "Believe and I can cleanse your ill. I have not died in vain between two thieves; Nor made a fruitless gift of miracles."
"A bird lit onto Christ. a breeze came to pass and shook the ripening corn
A Red Cross waggon bumped along the track "Lord Jesus, ain't you got no more to say ?" He bowed his head with a crown full of thorns, as the soldier shifted, then stumbled on his way.
"O God," he groaned,"why was I ever born ?". The battle boomed, and no reply came back.
Posted by kipper at 14:22
OUR MASGOUF
The fishes have high wings, but they can feel our deep pain like sisters. Yes, we are the fishes’ brothers and any halo you may see in the dark night is a birthday of this brotherhood. Come here and see the seeds of this earth in an ancient Sumerian tablet, which its recipes were shining as the sun. In that Iraqi mud, you can see the smoke of our Masgouf and you may smell its exciting flavor. It is residing in our dreams like the moon, and we delightedly disappear in its perfume with the butterflies. The face of our Masgouf is pure, and I will be so happy if you can see its chants dancing as fairies at their small riverbanks.
THE MAGIC DOLMA
The small girls in our gardens knew nothing about the flowers or their breathtaking colors, but they are so efficient in making of magic Dolma. In the morning they meet a green dove, and listen to her chants. They are soft and pure exactly as our Dolma’s smiles. She teaches our girls the art of Dolma and the secret of grape’s leaves with a smooth voice and gentle hands. This Dolma’s master is so soft and deep, and she can color the girls’ hearts with the wedding dresses.
THE KEBAB GLORY
The Iraqis can’t live without war or Kebab, and can’t smell the morning breeze without their deep voices. Our souls were kneaded with the sad Kebab’s Sumac and the tears of war. Our dreams had immersed in the Kebab’s perfume and straggled in the desert of sad Sumac. Yes, you need the Iraqi sad smiles to find the Kebab’s sublime glory.
Companion.
Comparable, compassionate compatibility.
Committal, compound or common availability.
Glorification panoistic or repudiation ability.
Inattentive, inappreciable, impudent cruelity.
Repletion straggled and monolith joky stability.
Licentious, monolatry rendering ostensibility.
I’ve
climbed the highest ladder
repaired frost damaged stone slab roof,
sat on top of telegraph poles
digging snow on Daughton heights
metamorphosis into maturity, was this proof?
I’ve
froze in seventeen degrees of frost
my spade glistening in winter’s feeble sun,
trespassed in mantles of unsoiled splendour
placed each doubtful step in trepidation
an enterprise into humanity, begun?
I’ve
straggled the coping stones of Eastby
probing for living fleece and her offspring,
trudged many inhospitable moor
where crow or robin dare not fly
only the composed in artic harmony, sing?
I’ve
slipped the rigorous reigns of commotion
spent hours working sun drenched drift,
lived the high sanctity of God’s work
Appletreewick, Kettlewell and beyond
amidst his fame, submerged in his precious gift?
I’ve
deemed all this an accomplishment
simple fare to many a humankind,
to rove the newness of fallen snow
the first imprint honest and profound
a silent lifting, of a conscious mind?
© Harry J Horsman 2001
Stings of sharp coldness
and side aches were the last
of her worries
Her broken toes straggled uselessy
Branch after twigs clawed aboust her
Sharp rocks and stickers no longer
made a difference
She ran no matter what
Blood rushing from her head
made her delusional
Her head was bleeding
She felt as she was running
in circles
Dark as midnight
She was blind running for her life
She heard a sharp whoosh
Felt the impact
Her bloody head betrayed
by her executioner fell to
the use less ground
as she
Scabbard symbol enchanted flowers opal potion milky skin
Gold-embroidered purple robe , green eyes flashing stars.
Beautiful faintly beeswax smell in village meadow chamber
Horse's necklace "clack! clack! clack" sleek coat bobbed tail.
Velvet lined rose queen , green tree snake salty evening air
Tea tree branch , topiary mazes , old Kingdom noonday sun.
Fresh dawn , wood ash , surrounding woods, veil of mist
Twisting and turning , sliding and re-arranging themselves
slender fingers pulled the needle back and forth on the loom
Nuzzling against his face an eager lip/nostril whiffling noise
Ice crystals etched along its blade felt the glow of his spirit
took a deep breath voice tiny siver bell with a high sweet note.
Brightly wrapped box he suddenly smiled a number of times
Wispy tendrils of red curls straggled free of their satin ribbon
She paused to feed a thread of scarlet into the pattern of blue.
They continued up the hill , beyond the ridge they saw the King
riding , his amber-coloured stallion charged ahead of his men
at the edge of the creek , green with ferns and rich moist moss.
*Image of Suspicion & Doubt by Pixabay.
Suspicion Fell on the Butler
'Twas a murky damp eve at the big house,
A frightening hallway clock tolls troll-less,
Hark the wayward butler a standard louse,
I glanced via the house he's gone I guess.
You're confident you've dug in everywhere,
Every nook and cranny cracks in the fence,
All we found were pipes but he is nowhere,
The shadiness of mistrust emerged dense,
He yelled at Mr. Cheevers, the louse claim,
He saw nothing he know nothing came up,
And shortly haunting tolling trolls proclaim,
Straggled Suspicion fell on the Butler, yup!
2022 July 25
*2nd Place*
One In Five 2
~~Joseph May: Judged 2022 July 29
the squirrel in the yard has seen me
give up my worms to the dirt
only to feed the birds, and in turn
hear the chirps of more nightingales
the sickening chirps of january,
the monotonous wails of january
on the fence, the straggled hair
still holds onto barbed wire
and sets off the alarm each morning
for my forest tent caterpillar
awaiting an older ant from its colony,
to its home
crawling across broken shards of
my cognitive window
before it wasn’t cocooned,
but instead glass-blown into
incognito
but I can only trudge tiredly to my window
and watch through, not lace, but black-out curtains
the crowns of thorns on all the gods
that walk up to my porch,
step on tomatoes, and eat my leaves
without reading their veins,
claiming they know the trees—
but never knew they’re poison
not unlike the jars of jam in a wicker basket
fermented in that Wiccan casket
from 2004
that still float up and down
my backyard stream, under my bridge
that hasn’t been repaired
only an engraved scratch
only an entombed epitaph
the squirrel in the yard
has hidden his acorns in me
through the one-way window
only he can see
my remaining worms will curl around them
holding onto something foreign
and the squirrel,
with his empty eyes,
will never eat again
By the shore, with effortless strokes, he paddled.
On the bank, a pasture with holstein cattle -
Sitting there, up high on the wooden seat, he
lazily dabbled.
Softly crept the coyote, prepped for battle.
Warmed by sun, a little one lagged to tackle
dandelions, all nestled in the clover,
grazing and addled.
Overhead, a mockingbird spied the rabble,
saw the calf who from the herd had now straggled.
Shrieking then, she dived at the rascal, oh so
noisily tattled.
----------
Haven't tried a sapphic stanza before - pretty picky placement of feet
in a 4-line stanza. Not sure this hits very well, but as always, try
and try again!
Trochee, trochee, dactyl, trochee, trochee (3x)
Dactyl, trochee
Morning meditation
With mission and vision
To understand nature
And Nurtured my being,
Morning breeze blew
My mind to surmised
Darkened, smudged,
Blurred to the darkness realm,
Merciful Messiah turn merciless..
And Cursed the sinful souls..
Deep to the depth of hell,
Anguished and torment
gnashing of teeth without tears
Extreme agony..
Ceaseless clamor..
Solace straggled..
Scorched and sting..
With venom without remedy....
Wretched..
Endless...
Dead cease to exist...
Soundless but still called....
Messiah!
Messiah!!
Messiah is merciless to the sinful soul..
The Pit pitiless, devil's damned...
Suffering without solution
Unbearable pains without end..
Afterlife in anguished....