Best Stunted Poems
An almost stillness came about
as she strode into my door,
like breath itself refused to move,
fearful of touching her mysterious beauty
But her obsidian eyes betrayed her.
Sharp and gleaming,
with a silver sheen
she looked at me,
and I knew…
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Molten lava spilled forth from her mouth, melting our clocks—
eighteen hundred nightmares compressed in two hours.
Long hand moving forward, as the short hand moved backward
How can memories persist in such an acrid life?
She spoke of a beast in the guise of a man,
one who ravaged innocence with the flick of a click
A coward that collected milk teeth for hardened bones
of other horny beasts with no spine
That throaty tenderness when she spoke
sprinkled crystal seeds of frustration in me
She says he loathed him, denied she loved him
but her obsidian eyes betrayed her
There she was, a bud he plucked from the nuns’ garden
He grafted then he pruned her,
spreading her pollen, wafting her scent
yet folding her petals to himself
Caterpillars feeding upon her leaves,
she lets them devour her,
yet once they are wrapped in their cocoons to sleep,
she stabs them with her thorns.
Tears then slid down from her midnight lace eyes
and it was all I could do to catch them
She said she was weary of curtailing butterflies,
of tearing their wings before they can even fly
I had to ask, how many… how many winged gems?
She lifted her sleeves, and showed me her scars
One ugly mark for each innocent child plunged deep,
my heart getting slashed at least three hundred a beat.
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A certain stillness came about
as I strode into her door,
like fear itself refused to move,
letting breath touch her mysterious beauty for the last time....
Her obsidian eyes had betrayed her.
Sharp and gleaming,
with a silver sheen
I looked at the knife beside her.
Maroon-mapped sheets, a stunted womb.
Strains of Bon Iver’s “Flume”
flit past the sighing air like a butterfly,
and I knew…
08112014
Categories:
stunted, abuse, dark, mystery,
Form:
Free verse
A dream can grow in the darkest places,
even when others lay shattered and dead,
no matter how long and twisted the roots,
dreams can still grow when tears are shed.
It will flower out of the muddy ground,
no matter how impossible it may seem,
and vine and wind around the stoney paths,
as it flourishes to chase the sunbeam.
A dream can grow from almost anywhere,
stunted only by what imagination can feed,
the vision becomes planted deep in the mind,
and will live when your heart is the seed.
Categories:
stunted, dream, growth, heart, hope,
Form:
Quatrain
Today is a glorious writing day!
There's a pop, a sizzle, a sassy flow
Words are clamoring to come out and play
Golden bubbles of joy I can't delay
My mind is breaking with verbs to bestow
Today is a glorious writing day!
I have toe-tapping tunes I must obey
Mirthful metaphors travel to and fro
Words are clamoring to come out and play
Sentences are waltzing in verbose sway
Stunted similes can suddenly grow
Today is a glorious writing day!
Rainbows have extended their jeweled rays
Every adjective gives a dazzling glow
Words are clamoring to come out and play
When waves of words come, we are swept away
Please excuse me; this tide I must follow
Today is a glorious writing day!
Words are clamoring to come out and play.
1/13/19
Entered in 'Your Best 2019-2020 Villanelle' contest
Judged 1/29/20
Categories:
stunted, appreciation, happy, imagination, poetry,
Form:
Villanelle
she shuffles in tattered slippers
held by elastic bands
securing them to her feet
bindings taken for granted
her thoughts settled into routine
to cross the dining room floor
to her table
lunch still matters to those buzzed by fog
dessert still stirs the blood to move
dysfunctional in age
she could go off in any direction at any time
like a heart monitor jittery, at the cusp of letting go
a harvested jumble of beats that still hang together
her odyssey
a matter of edges
stunted steps
close enough to the movement of others
bickering bodies sometimes
but removed enough to breathe
Categories:
stunted, age, endurance, humanity, life,
Form:
Free verse
The velvet sky was strangely quiet...
The Earth still and hushed beneath my feet.
No mountains groaned, no crumbling stone
Giving voice to my defeat.
The lake... calm and placid like mirrored glass...
Not a ripple to be seen.
Two loons at play had flown away
Leaving a tranquil pastoral scene.
Birds would sing to mark this day
As beasts roamed throughout the land.
I was not impressed and most distressed...
Nature's laws seemed well in hand.
The morning scented with a familiar air as
Meadow flowers made good their vivid fashion
But in my grief, there was a unyielding belief...
Nature should be gripped with far more passion.
I wanted Earthly reprisals and thunderbolts
To lash out their.. mournful roar.
I wanted winds to squall and towered trees to fall
And huge white capped waves to lap their shores.
I wanted the land to wither and blow away
Where wilted crops grow stunted for the year.
Where the force above... feels a desperate shove
And an unplumbed chasm then appears.
But then again... on further musing,
Such sights would not honor her at all.
We had oft discussed... there be no fuss
When she answered Heaven's call.
No trumpets roared or melodic lyres blurred
As a callous Nature missed that special day...
But Church bells rang and sweet Angelic voices sang...
When my dear Mother passed away.
The End
Categories:
stunted, grief, loss,
Form:
Rhyme
Bewildering static
frames the soulless—
restlessly habitual, as
crippled philosophies efflux
amidst stunted swells,
cracked and parched
despite ocean whorls that
coat wayward sentiments, of
grave quagmires rippling in
steady streams,
paradoxically cornered into a
vortex of intoxicating drifters.
Rather, the moon guides my way
amidst lulling meres,
soothing the storms
raging within perplexed
personas, sailing towards a
dawning of lucid seascapes—
home to you, my ocean blue.
Categories:
stunted, ocean,
Form:
Free verse
The wings beat against the cage
in an urgent frenzy tormented never defeated
within this half twilight zone of slow crawling time held victim
The allure of consequences nevertheless feeding the flames
where conscious thought and lucid emotions die
slowly singed away remains at the bottom rung
The wisest transaction is the covenant never made and openly denied
decadence should never be answered once a pulls so strong
becomes injured with pride in alacrity's foretaste for knowledge
Where even the wind no longer breathes urgent
madness with passions trait as the grand tempest storms
steamily blows a cloud of smoke
A haunting being hunts darkness pushing boundaries
towards cold unadorned blue abandoned
holding the oceans spheres in restless silence
Restrained darkness meets light but never crosses over
the divide scratching at a spirit so forlorn
restraint comes naturally to the craggy and torn
Under the echoes of a lion's roar
A thousand tears can never mourn
the destruction and sad beauty that you have borne
Inside this isolation un-embellished
Under an austere atmosphere
holds the wings of time imprisoned factors
Destinies commander oh so damaged in this stunted wasteland of emotion's
conception becoming the unconsecrated norm in an un-heeding barrier
where realisations stammer unknowingly into the humiliating wit of despair
Which darkens the very soul blindfolded
The overture of the dove dances on as vigilant oracle of peace
the internal struggles of temperament challenges
Memorable moments within the spirit quest
fear and love wrapped up in a sorrowful wanting
yearning which hurts without choice
The pinnacles of reconciliation
and the fragile stirring of wings
wanting to fly is the verdict yet to come
a co written piece by Donna Loughman and Liam McDaid
Categories:
stunted, courage, emotions, endurance, relationship,
Form:
Terza Rima
The wings beat against the cage
in an urgent frenzy tormented never defeated
within this half twilight zone of slow crawling time held victim
The allure of consequences nevertheless feeding the flames
where conscious thought and lucid emotions die
slowly singed away remains at the bottom rung
The wisest transaction is the covenant never made and openly denied
decadence should never be answered once a pulls so strong
becomes injured with pride in alacrity's foretaste for knowledge
Where even the wind no longer breathes urgent
madness with passions trait as the grand tempest storms
steamily blows a cloud of smoke
A haunting being hunts darkness pushing boundaries
towards cold unadorned blue abandoned
holding the oceans spheres in restless silence
Restrained darkness meets light but never crosses over
the divide scratching at a spirit so forlorn
restraint comes naturally to the craggy and torn
Under the echoes of a lion's roar
A thousand tears can never mourn
the destruction and sad beauty that you have borne
Inside this isolation un-embellished
Under an austere atmosphere
holds the wings of time imprisoned factors
Destinies commander oh so damaged in this stunted wasteland of emotion's
conception becoming the unconsecrated norm in an un-heeding barrier
where realisations stammer unknowingly into the humiliating wit of despair
Which darkens the very soul blindfolded
The overture of the dove dances on as vigilant oracle of peace
the internal struggles of temperament challenges
Memorable moments within the spirit quest
fear and love wrapped up in a sorrowful wanting
yearning which hurts without choice
The pinnacles of reconciliation
and the fragile stirring of wings
wanting to fly is the verdict yet to come
a co written piece by Donna Loughman and Liam McDaid
Categories:
stunted, bereavement, conflict, emotions, feelings,
Form:
Terza Rima
I have come to accept the possibility
that I, myself, may be partially to blame (my compost pile of shame)
that I may have stroked the very wheel (unable to feel)
that, set in motion, is the cause of
so much pain (unsheltered in the rain)
Silently suffering through endless winters (embers, cinders)
without anticipation of Spring (hope an ethereal thing)
blind to Mother Earth's gifts (tenuous unfelt shifts)
the colors, the scents of her blossoms (habitually playing possum)
deaf to the melodies of the birds (knowledge lost, language
unheard)
as they sing
She calls to me but my barriers are thick (mentally stunted, physically sick)
densely scarred and wounded (as I am, to the quick)
As the sludge chokes the seabirds (screaming their lost words)
and the fishes (murdering Piscean wishes)
as Her forests are cleared by those
both greedy and vicious
I feel Mother Earth tremble (demons assemble)
beneath my feet
hear Her sigh as I place a hesitant finger (shaking, letting it linger)
on Her weakened pulse
thready and irregular
We are killing Her, Mother Earth,
mother of us all, matricide (no longer can we hide)
listen, listen to Her heartbeat...
I may have stroked the very wheel...
Categories:
stunted, nature, people, slam, visionary,
Form:
Lyric
LOVE AGAIN
On this day, when tricky time
Has already turned love into wry rust,
When forgetting dominates
Bits- and -pieces remembering,
I forget you like I forget my red rose,
Standing alone , old and gnarled
At the far end of my yard,
Its leaves more blighted than green,
Its twigs more stunted than straggly,
Its butterflies more fitful than flit-ful.
But when I remember, it is like
Its rare , single bloom overpowering
Me with its same old fragrance
Into a spasm of fond recognition..
19 Jun 12
S.Jagathsimhan Nair
For SKAT's contest, 'Old romantic poems'
Categories:
stunted, love, old,
Form:
Verse
We were born as one of eight,
As always said last in first out,
Some of us unfortunately late,
To be found out what this is all about.
Through as seed to eyes wide,
Reflections of our guardians past,
Our lifes path determined for the ride,
On us as punishment did last.
Running to each for rescue,
Our thoughts, minds a damage,
Not realising all affected as we grew,
By ignorance and uncontrolled rage.
Given a mind of neediness and not real thought,
A reality of life for the rest,
Real knowledge and understanding never sort,
A fight to achieve and make the best.
Of what was afforded to our untrained mind-sets,
Surviving the stages of life,
Who was to know who above placed bets,
A guardian dies and relieves a little strife.
Some leave as falsely grown,
The rest left behind to continue,
To continue in chosen paths without proper seeds sown,
A new step in our life, pain to persue.
A little relief of a place,
Bodies growing but minds stunted,
To a new home we move but same pace,
By continued hurt, pain forever blunted.
Behind closed doors but some unheeded,
Our own flesh grabbed at by a new,
The cries of our little bodies that needed,
Evil persons not of the same blood we knew.
Why was this to be our serve?
Please be taken away,
What did we do to deserve,
As children to avoid more dismay.
The end eventually given,
Finally a space to heal,
By powers unknown for continued living,
A built outer protection sheath for real.
Our own flesh birth we give,
As supposed to be,
To learn from our past and live,
We did not know true glee.
But for us and them we will try our best,
Of ours and heir’s share our pains,
To remain and love as true for the rest,
As in the past hurt always rains.
But to know and learn how,
One day all will know, what,
Life is supposed to be now,
Transpired and by who caused this rot.
Life will continue I know, without shame,
As we all are not the same.
08/28/2016
Categories:
stunted, abuse, childhood, confusion, family,
Form:
Rhyme
Wisdom murmurs amid paucity of things—
seekers contemplative in cross-legged trance.
Pondering vaguities pensive meditation brings—
to apprehend with nonchalance of glance.
While to acolytes, such subtleties impinge—
denied are those of stifled grasp.
For in their minds a fetid dinge,
mundane failure to enclasp.
Stunted ones thus held in thrall,
ever signal their incurious pose.
While unmuted is a mounting wrawl,
from those abhorrent in appose.
The blind above in fog would lead,
who daily task us for our gaze.
They tire us with unending screed,
and we ignore while they abrase.
Rather would I summon stillness—
watch quiet water smooth a stone.
Free myself of this world’s illness—
love gently life I choose alone.
Categories:
stunted, corruption,
Form:
Quatrain
I stand here, on twisted limbs
Teetering upon broken knees
My feet stunted, unnatural
Thickly traitorous to motion
I force forward, to meet agony
Blades of pain, penetrating
Through torturous phantom minutes
Of solitary, sacrificial steps
These feet once danced
A tricky beat
Carried the obligation
Of force
And the belief of boldness
Now these feet
Are brittle and indiscreet
Tomorrow is beyond four gray walls
In swirling dresses and polished wood floors
Colors of music, shades of rhythm
For movement to flow, for grace to know
So I stand here
To make it so.
10/12/18
Categories:
stunted, endurance, hope, pain, recovery
Form:
Free verse
suddenly bare branches
sway and shiver
shiver and sway, outstretched
in vain
to December's flares
stunted grass shoots
deign not wave
to howling winds
their lawns daily prowl
icy slants of rain
piercing bare heads
autumn’s roses gone missing
color them dead
Categories:
stunted, change, death, december, loss,
Form:
Free verse
Of stunted dreams
and lying schemes
on sand the castle stood
~~~
through windows slit in deep stone walls
no light be found within
the moldy, moody corridors
resound with deafening din
she dreams of love forsaken
and feeds them to the birds
who keep her from insanity
silent whispers without words
she spends her time with puzzles
in the dungeon dank and dark
digging for missing pieces
of her torn and scattered heart
one day the gates will open
the lock will rust and fall
she’ll step into the sun
and not look back at all
Categories:
stunted, angst, life, loss, lost
Form:
Rhyme