Best Stumbles Poems
"Sweet child in time,
you'll see the line
the line that's drawn between
good and bad"
Having cold sweats again in this godforsaken ninety degree heat. Shivering uncontrollably. God, what I'd do for a warm comforter right now. Zombies all around me mumbling incoherent poetry no one understands or even cares to hear. Young people half my age or less without souls, without heart, without vision.
Nam 1968. The nightmares won't stop even now, fifty-six years later. Nineteen years old. Just a kid. What did I know about good and bad, right from wrong? I did what I was told just like everyone else. When I was young, I used to dream of Eden.
"See the blind man
shooting at the world
bullets flying
taking toll"
Deep in the jungle, trying to rest but sleep is elusive. Out of the corner of my eye I espy a young child, a girl I think. Or is it just a dream? She looks ragged, hungry, sad. Tears are streaming down her cheeks as she stumbles through the brush toward us. The air is suffocating, a train is rolling through my head when suddenly I hear a blast from an M16. Sarge yells "Everyone down!" Then an explosion, but this time I can't hear a thing, just debris flying everywhere. And then the child is no more. When I open my eyes, a tiny hand lay two feet away. So delicate, so precious. What the hell am I doing here?
"You'd better close your eyes
bow your head
wait for the ricochet"
Kensington avenue is hell in the real world. It is here I exist and it is here I will die, homeless, sick and alone. The needle is my one last and true friend, for when I am high I am free. It is then that the dreams of Eden reappear, if but for a moment. I am seventy-five years old now, but I never really got to grow up. For you see, back there, in '68, I was just a child in time.
dreams are illusions
white lady offers solace
forgiveness denied
*Kensington Ave, Philadelphia PA
**Song lyrics from Child in Time by Deep Purple
Categories:
stumbles, emotions,
Form:
Haibun
Enamored, I sit, in mystique of space and time
Glancing at intricacies of ebullience sublime
Contemplating mystery of universe all alone
Through echoes of destiny, heard and known,
Where birds roam, prairies bloom, oceans flow,
And lauding its miracles tranquil seasons glow
Enchanting passions of life, intimately I know.
Life at a glance is a bouquet of fresh flowers,
Exuberant pitter-patter of April rain showers,
Valleys and hills gracing resplendent meadows,
Sometimes sun-lit, sometimes in shadows,
Invigorating senses in fragrance of budding rose
Life is a bond of love that blossoms and grows--
A melody, a rhythm, a song every heart knows.
Alas, the happy vibes reside, tailing teary eyes,
For every smile somewhere, someone cries,
Dark clouds often daub expanse of blue skies,
Dense fogs precede beauteous morning rise,
And every celebration of success victory calls,
Someone on a steep-climb stumbles and falls.
Yet, hope of a new dawn always pierces dark
And replaces wolf-howls with sweet songs of lark,
So, I let mornings rise on ebullience of blue skies
Enamored in space, time, letting life actualize.
March 9, 2021
Poem of the week on March 14, 2021
Placed 4th: Life at a glance premium contest
Categories:
stumbles, life,
Form:
Rhyme
Verse 1
His coat is torn his
shoes are thin
The cold cuts deep beneath his
skin
Little boy coughs small
hands that shake
Winter's breath is much to hard
To hard to take.
Verse 2
Sidewalk echoes silent
prayers
People pass but no one
cares
Cardboard kingdom borrowed
time
Every step is a mount-
Mountain climbed.
Chorus
And the city turns
away
Like they never ever knew his
name
Still he holds his boy so
close
Chorus 1st Ending
Runs through streets to bring him
home. (1x repeat back to beginning of chorus)
Chorus 2nd Ending
Whispers / "Son, we're going
home."
Verse 3
Once had a home once had a
plan
Once held hope in calloused
hands
But fate’s a thief it moves much too
fast
Dreams dissolve like breath on
Stained kissed glass.
Chorus
Bridge
And he sings a lullaby
so low
Soft as the falling falling
Angel snow
A father’s love is his sheltering
Wings of warmth
Even when the nights are
Broken broken and torn.
Verse 4
"Daddy I’m tired my chest feels
tight"
His voice is weak his skin much too
white
Stars above blur in his
sight
The world fades into endless
Endless cold night.
Partial Chorus
And the city turns
away
Like they never ever knew his
name
Still he lifts his boy so
close
Runs through streets…..to bring him
home.
Final Verse
He stumbles down an empty
street
The world is ice beneath his
feet
He kneels beside the frozen
City of stone
Whispers "Son… we’re finally
Finally home."
Chorus
Chorus 2nd Ending
Whispers / "Son
we're finally
home."
Outro
The snow drifts soft the
Sunday morning gray
No one stops and no one
Left to pray
Two souls lost in winter’s
hold
Together now, for-
ever and ever
In a City Frozen cold
Categories:
stumbles, city, father son, home,
Form:
Elegiac Lyric
Under layers of pain wrapped in the hurt,
Under betrayal hidden from sight,
Pinned to her heart that’s broken and black,
Pinned to a feeling of spite,
She walks and stumbles and falls to the ground,
Naked she’s dazed, she’s stunned,
But her body no longer feels anything,
Her body’s emotionally numbed,
From all of the years of walk the thin line,
Domestically handcuffed to this beast,
Her mind was a toy for his psychotic games,
A game where her mind was the feast,
Now all she does is stumble and fall,
Bleeding her mental farewell,
Existing in a tragic life that has gone,
Living a life full of hell.
Categories:
stumbles, abuse, anxiety, dark,
Form:
Quatrain
She longs to take possession of her heart, but she quickly forgets.
He used his flattering power to gleam the pages and feast.
Like the wind tossing the spider holding tight on a single web.
She retraces the steps in her mind, her soul dares not sleep
to be shattered by silence. She wonders if it will work,
are they destined to reach for spring sunshine, a bouquet of wondrous
beauty and sweetness. Like an eagle caged, she stumbles
and thought about the man in her heart. Her spirit calms a heavenly trust.
6/26/2018
Poetry Contest: Strand Special 10,Any Form ,Any Theme
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Categories:
stumbles, emotions, fate,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Neither puppy love nor lust, each insists
in its imperfect play. Their hearts resist
both by clinging in its barbaric way.
Youth forgiven. The wolf begs her to stay.
But a commitment is made in marriage.
It is not found in a baby carriage.
What do we know of love - it’s not first sight.
It is the highs and lows - bond holds on tight.
Love’s patient, kind, not selfish nor boastful.
It’s the making of memories - joyful.
To let go of bitterness’ a decision.
Poof like magic, the wrongs are forgiven.
Black and blues, the stumbles and falls, gets up
on the horse - believers climb to the top.
~
Now what of those years, of the worse decrease?
Does the sorrow make the better cerise?
Does the white-gowned wife, handsome groom resume
as if the bond is pruned, roses in bloom?
Yes, the rivulets of tears reverent.
The jubilee melody resonant.
When love is stirred with sugar and nettles,
sorrow’d years melt. Felicitous petals
land on silver hair and wrinkles. O God!
Yes, three cords complete and restore the flawed.
Love protects, hopes, perseveres in trials.
The truth of a lifetime's years in their smiles.
Shakespeare regales Summer’s hot gaze, short days.
Yet love stoked in the Winter’s hearth - O blaze!
1/30/2021
What Is Love
Sponsor: Unseeking Seeker
Hybronnet is similar to a sonnet, can have a variable rhyme scheme,
does not have to be iambic meter. The poet is given liberty to choose how to structure the rhyme of the Hybronnet poem into a combination of rhymes be it slant, feminine, masculine, etc. or apply it in any design deemed appropriate
Categories:
stumbles, age, love,
Form:
Hybronnet
The light is coming and I wish you well...
Behind the running, running man the land
Lies silent, fallow, haunted by the cry
Of one lone mourning rook who flies alone
Inscribing solemn circles in the sky
There is no time to take a backward look
Just running, running, running, running blind
He leaves the flowered garlands that she wove
With ribbons bright, with summer’s love, behind
He runs with only hope in empty hands
All faint of heart, with life blood running cold
The chill of winter earth beneath his feet
All water turned to ice in frozen fold
All out of breath with minutes yet to live
He runs, through elder grove and stand of yew
Runs, seeking for the ancient Solstice door
Described in tales the bards and ancients knew
‘Till suddenly he stumbles on a glade
All silent where no wild bird wheels or calls
And in the glade there stands a single stone
And on the ground a moon dark shadow falls
And there, within the shadow’s light he sees
That which before him other men have found
A stairway leading down in to the earth
A dark descending path in to the ground
No way but down now, this the only way
He gathers one last breath, and full of fear
Goes down the old and foot worn ancient steps
That lead towards the portal of the year
How dark the endless steps of winter’s stair
That shadow down, down to the Solstice door
To where, beneath the door a chink of light
Hints soft and bright across the cold stone floor
He sits upon the bottom step to rest
Reflect, and contemplate the year behind
And lo, she comes, bedecked in leaves and fruit
And dancing, dancing, through his weary mind
Forget me not, she sings; I am still here
I wait for you, for life to shift and stir
And through the keyhole and the chink there blows
A fragrant waft of birch and silver fir
Reviving, blessing, soft upon his face
The promise of new life upon her breath
Touched by her grace he weeps upon the step
For she has saved him with her love from death
Another year dies, another lives
He sits and waits; she watches from afar
And as he waits the light in darkness shifts
And creaks the ancient Solstice Door ajar…
by Gail
Categories:
stumbles, life, light, mystery, mythology,
Form:
Iambic Pentameter
a new born lamb
sways and stumbles
never giving up ~
finds its feet
Written 20th March 2021
Lets Get Creative With Haiku Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
Categories:
stumbles, birth, nature,
Form:
Haiku
When I close my eyes I fall...
I'm dropped into a soul with no walls...
In this dreamworld I'm forced to walk alone...
Strolling my past that's stripped to the bone...
I try to blow off the dust that sits on my tears...
All the stumbles and mistakes that won't disappear...
Free falling through hands and stares that have no faces...
And suddenly I'm dropped back down to familar places...
But the dream I still taste on the back of my tongue...
And for that day I breathe and swallow a dream still sung...
"Dream a Lil Dream" contest
12/4/11
Categories:
stumbles, mystery, places, dream, dream,
Form:
Rhyme
An odyssey through hurdles, yet a blessing it is to dwell on earth,
Aiming for destination beloved, chasing sweet dreams of mirth,
Through successes and failures, amid joys and woes, since birth,
Life can be hurricanes and storms, but living it justifies its worth.
Sometimes life beams with hope, sometimes despairs in throes,
Navigating peaks and troughs, undulating with highs and lows,
Yet, unyielding to reign of angst, life rejects doldrums of sorrow,
Aspiring boldly to sunny horizons, hosting endeavors of morrow.
Life, a realm of virtues divine, resounding endearment of love,
A benediction, an endowment, a gift from the heavens above;
Its paradigms and precepts reverberate from temple of soul,
Echoing sapience of enlightenment, teachings paramount toll.
On strength of sheer endurance, aspirations of dreamers soar,
Flexing willpower of ambitions, resolutely they bring to fore,
As life rewards strenuous efforts, striving for its worthy goal,
Fulfilling purpose of tomorrow, triumphs of achievers extol.
Life toddles, stumbles and falls, enduring as it learns to walk,
It stutters, it babbles thoughts, yet persists as it learns to talk,
Cognizant over time, sorting good from bad, right from wrong,
Obeying tenets of morals and values, guiding humanity lifelong.
Categories:
stumbles, life,
Form:
Rhyme
...inspired by 'A Soldier of the Great War'
by Mark Helprin
The old man stumbles, the young man
swaggers with assurance.
Stars of grace and suns of perfect
promise point to journeys yet uncharted
on their pathways to fulfillment.
The old man dreams of childhood,
cherished memories and golden opportunities.
The young man yearns for sexual expression.
Companions, self-possessed, growing
in respect for their astonishments and fears.
The old man a philosopher,
a master of life's unpredictabilities;
the young man just a neophyte,
the world at his behest.
Together, yet alone, storied travelers
with different versions of the universe.
Categories:
stumbles, philosophyold, old, universe,
Form:
Verse
When my eyes meet your gaze
The first eon in surprised time,
Brushing into each other in a cafe
The earth somehow wakes,
It knows your flesh
embracing our marrow's warmth
more encompassing than life's fate
that my breath stumbles into ticks
of nightfall's irrepressible lightness.
You are received by my body
as much as sky's flame--
Perhaps more
As we breathe the same wind.
Could this be a new fondness?
...Yet raw this earth that wraps us incorporeal
like stardust itself ;
And nameless as shadows
in deserted moonlight,
nick of time freezes without notice
aligning our birthright with destiny
and like the clockwork of serendipity
no one dares speak.
Categories:
stumbles, destiny, time,
Form:
Free verse
I penned a couplet for you today.
Rather, a quill manipulated
my hand and scrawled mendacity.
The misanthrope's who read the ode
applauded with flippers on.
Such insight. Such depth.
Mussolini meets Monet and
the Mephistopheles Mambo mounts.
Call me a scribe and I murder myself.
Call me a liar and I impregnate your charm.
I purposely dislocated my arm today.
Rather, your tongue severed bone
and flesh was torn from my shoulder;
a needed braised boomerang
to stimulate my poetic prowess.
Such clarity. Such wisdom.
Lenin leads Lichtenstein and
the Lucifer Lindy is launched.
Call me a poet and I gnarl my fingers.
Call me a fabulist and I bow to a crooked smile.
A jellyfish swam through my veins today.
Rather, the tentacles of a tyrant
triggered a fabricated Tanka.
Maudlin stumbles when I laugh alone -
more comedic when we cackle together.
Such simplicity. Such compassion.
Bundy befriends Berchtold and
the Beelzebub Bossa Nova begins.
Call me a dramatist and I gag upon reflection.
Call me a simpleton and your wishes are granted.
I solemnly yearn to expire today.
Rather, a fool fires in a fury
and a mannequin lies in his casket.
The curse you've driven towards me -
a combination menu
when a lone Woolf inconspicously
devours a battered Browning.
Such diversity. Such nothingness.
Stalin seduces Seurat and
the Satanic Samba softly swoons.
Call me a parodist and I choke upon perfection.
Call me a realist when I'm sleeping on nails.
Categories:
stumbles, introspectionme, me,
Form:
Free verse
A cold lion roams, doctrinaire and sterile,
The expanse of Africa offers him no sanctuary, the Saringehti no salvation,
He can only smell the scent of his pride now, his cubs shun him,
Repelled by needless roars, the revolting rants,
Tail tattered, biten by jackels at will,
His nose bit and beaten from battles better avoided,
Soul tethered to a label, only a title, "King of the Jungle" ,
Fleas and insects of all sorts find haven in his muddy mane
once so puffed and wide like a thunderhead trampling over Tanzania,
I hear him in the twilight, lonely, unsated and undesired,
Paranoid about a life that does not seem to love him,
His heart became a desserted Athens, a broken, rigid column slumped on the earth,
He wanders near the Nile, nearsighted and nervous
As an Egyptian boy of ancient lineage stalks him sensitively
Putting the speartip to own temple saying,
I see your ribs, your broken paws, your futility,
I will now deliver your soul unto the cool night,
The spear is launched with a certain bloodlust
piercing behind the shoulder blade, his heart hollers
with the cry of scarred suprise, the lion stumbles and pants
vanity not allowing blame for lack of vigilance,
the boy trots to the spot, kneels in token reverence
telling him, sip the black puddle of your error, as eyes fold ever shallow,
let me feed you these apples of arrogance
so to quiet your grievence, to sooth your ego before final sight,
there is no shame in being slain by a Pharoah King, old lion,
I shall wear your teeth as a timeless trophy of tragedy,
Emblematical of Pride gone on too long,
may the spirit of Herodetous teach this lesson to a new breed -
J.A.B.
Categories:
stumbles, character,
Form:
Epic
Out of the ether once came a small child
who hoped to one day fly thru the air.
Diligently applying herself, learning a style,
performing higher leaps, tapping the rare.
She performed somersaults, all in her stride,
with greater and more intelligent ease.
Winning honors and gold medals worldwide,
winning hearts with technical expertise
She became the world's new daring upstart
"sensational, uncanny, never fails,"
They didn't care that she led with her heart
and began to believe all of the tales.
As heroes may do, she took a misstep
and stumbled as the world was looking on.
the fault came not because she was inept,
the world on her shoulders became too strong.
A lesson to be learned: tho brave they are
some athletes just barely more than a child.
We expect all heroes to be bright stars
so we can foster their dreams for a while.
We forget they're human, just as we are
with mightier longings and goals, perhaps.
We must forgive occasional dimmed stars,
help them stand if they sometimes collapse.
Categories:
stumbles, character, confidence, conflict, courage,
Form:
Rhyme