Best Sulky Poems
they're not speaking to me now, the Muses;
they're being stubborn,
witholding information, like beetle-browed accomplices -
their mouths pulled tight as drawstring purses.
they sit on their twin thrones of epiphany and genius,
smiling silently,
mockingly, while my fingers twitch with impotent yearning
and the chambers of my mind are cold,
dark and hollow as a cave.
i have become a contradiction in terms -
the wordless poet strikes again...
writer's block is the yoke around my neck,
the anchor that sends me drifting lachrymose
into the suffocating depths -
i am drowning,
swallowing tendrils of seaweed and tufts of
gossamer melancholy.
a struggling artist shouldn't have to work this hard -
to pay the bills yes, but not to create;
without the birthing process there is no artist...
yet there is still hope, a smidgen, a dark smudge on the horizon.
some knight errant might appear, with golden locks
and a smile that trembles the knees,
to inject love and longing back into my sulky heart.
he might extend his brave hand, down into
these murky depths, and yank me up;
dragging my creativity, bedraggled, choking,
retching, into the bleak light of inspiration's flare...
but then again, who believes in knights these days?
i am just as likely to wither away down here,
among the fishes and the wall-eyed anemones,
until the words have all filtered from my brain
and poetry is just a fond memory
from long-ago halcyon days...
Categories:
sulky, angst, on writing and
Form:
Free verse
3 holes Hut on Cubbie
Yep me an Sow the wild pig were,
Under the low set hut, yessir,
I was 12 months old, I be,
Nappies were short, so I had none see,
The piglet kept me clean,
Did he…
The old hut is now a fallen down,
Where piggy an I would wriggle around,
I only came out, when she needed to see,
When mama fed the fat piggie,
Then I’d crawl and bound,
1946 I say it was,
under the one room hut of cos,
we had no lectricity,
and cooked outside under a tree,
brown boredrain fed the pig an me,
till civilized I got because,
I needed to be,
Tommy Hook he came to me,
A lousy Jack, one legged he,
Noisy family bird was, see,
Great chatterer, quite featherly,
A talker of the bush,
We came there by sulky,
with an unbroken horse,
it had the blinkin blnkers,
to maybe force,
it not be frightened see,
by the sight of a close sulky,
across the watercourse,
so harnessed up and circling free,
at the canter it, came round for me,
when mum threw me up by force,
an poppa caught me in the sulky,
one hand was free, I got caught,
she sprung aboard next circle brought,
and off sailed the family,
to old Cubbie, yet of course,
to the stink of wet Gidgee,
after rain, the smell so coarse… Don Johnson
Yes Joe...8
Yes at a year old i needed a friend,
so a wild piglet came and then,
was a pet of the family,
brought by my pig chasing dad for me,
from a brood that an old Sow had when,
he found em in the thin Lygnum bush old friend,
in the shade of a Gidgee tree...
Categories:
sulky, adventure, mum,
Form:
Ballad
Aub
Aubrey Gordon Joseph Mc'Govern
by Don Johnson...
he was born in 1895 to a land so different then,
one of three boys born at Brenda station,
near to Hebel up the river near the water on a bend.
though just a child he told me of his life upon the land,
of strange things seen and space ships strange, with
coloured lights so grand.
how he and Walter and the boy had seen it flying past ,
but never went to look for it though it fell with a mighty blast.
he drove the coach for Cobb & co, held six horses by the rein,
these 3 Mc Govern's never married though,
so no Mc Govern's will remain.
he worked on Cubbie station as a station hand
their fences he did mend, delivered mail a sulky
mailman to the squatters he was friend.
no radio on the airwaves then, the news would come by him,
by word of mouth the bush telegraph, bare facts with no garnishing.
one time he was a shearers cook and cooked o'er an open fire.
he was on the rum, maybe seeing things, old Aub. he was no liar.
as he stooped to check the boiling pot he saw the Devil lunge at him.
so he flogged him off used his boiling spuds,
made a goodly campfire dim.
old Aubrey's gone where the old drovers go,
but i sure remember him.
as a story teller i did know,
when i was small and thin. …
Categories:
sulky, adventure, old, old,
Form:
Ballade
You’re too late to apologize to me
For your foolish, senseless decision-making
Accidents happen, but you purposely
Lied to me in my face – teary-eyed, terribly shaking
Can’t deny your lack of honesty hurt me badly
You wrecked me up real good, so far from free
I can’t stand the fact you drive me insane once again
I can’t handle the truth, so I remain ignorant then
You never took me as I am, as I truly am
My true self broke free like a ruined dam
You left me with nothing but rageful regret
You stole my happiness and made me upset
If I can seek a somewhat righteous approach,
You can have my mercy, you filthy roach…
I need you though and I hate to admit it
I want you to know that I still care a bit
I conjured up emotions and large feelings towards you
Engross me with your lovely, joyous spirit you once had
I endured so many hardships that hit me out of the blue
Sick to the stomach, but I learned to fake feeling so glad
Take me as I am, as I am
And I will do the same to you, to you
You stare at me like a cam
I feel heartless in your shoes, who knew
Somehow, I lost my mind long ago and I grieve
Oh, here am I, love, so take me as I am, as I truly am
I take a quick bow before I take my sulky leave
Oh, I am here, darling, so accept me for who I am
Someday, you will see me through the lows and flaws
Oh, here am I, seeking things from above –
I am an obedient lamb, my long-lost love
I take my time to try to explain myself to you, to you
But, nothing seems to register because you’re cruel
Dear friend,
Will you accept me for who I am? Ah, man…
Reject me not and just take me for who I am!
Categories:
sulky, deep, depression, desire, endurance,
Form:
Free verse
stormbears
great swathes of rain
pushed, herded by gale gusts
from the north edging on arctic
moves down on polar bear paws
rumble, tumble dark across my sky
whispering vestiges of autumn
scatters sulky heat before them
brushes aside trees and grasses
balls of hail rat ta tat tatting on tin roof
enter my garden blustery bold
cool lips touch the last sweet petals
kiss away the dust of summer
soon they curl soft mounds
among pine, oak, hemlock
sleepdreaming of seas with ice palaces.
Categories:
sulky, autumn,
Form:
Free verse
Come and climb these
Broad bony branches and
Have tea on this tree
with me,
Let's talk our hearts out
Into the poems unsung.
Sleep silently singing in my sizzly eyes,
Sleep might snap with some pumpkin chai,
The sun is seeping in my sulky bones,
Soon the milky moon will mysteriously be alone,
Here, have some squishy scone
While the sun is setting sleekly,
I reckon we should have tea weekly.
Sandalwoody sultry summer,
Hyacinth, hibiscus and hummers,
Poppies, primroses and periwinkles,
The night in esoteric eyes twinkle,
Starling singing on a starless night,
No gloom, a moon , no light,
In this sordid slumber silence,
I can hear your eyes speak.
Let's tell each other
All our hearts hanker
To say,
Drink tea and recite
The poems and make
No delay,
I'll have chamomile tea,
I'm not Mrs. Bennet
But it'll calm my nerves,
You like your tea with herbs,
Spearmint, rosemary and thyme,
And make sure the poem rhymes.
Categories:
sulky, art, beauty, happy, summer,
Form:
Free verse
Nay greet for me, I yet live
ne'er was I a bairn to ye
mind me ere I once were
when drouthy neibors met
t'were to tak a dram or two
then tak the gate
na think on lang miles
nor of sulky dame
as frae her ye flee 'd
na catch'd wi' a skellum
blethering lik a blellum
ah lass na greet for me
by the auld haunt kirk
auld Nick a towzie tyke
nay catch'd this bogle
who scre'd the pipes and
gart them all a skirl
til skies a' did dirl
an in cauld hand held a candle
his ain soul now bereft
bides her lass, nay greet for me
translation
Do not cry for me, I yet live
never was I a baby to you
mind me as I once was
when thirsty neighbours met
it was to share a dram or two
then take the road home
do not think of long miles
nor of sullen wife
as from her you fled
not to be caught as a waster
rambling like a boaster
do not cry for me lass
by the old haunted church
Old Nick a shaggy dog
could not catch this ghost
who screwed the pipes
and make them squeal
until the heavens all ring
and in his hand a candle held
his ain soul now bereft
bides her, lass do not cry for me
Categories:
sulky, death, friendship, tribute,
Form:
Verse
Dragon Slayer! Dragon Slayer! Just say it isn’t so! Just Look at that cutesy face!
Behind the scary teeth, fire, and smoke… Choke…Ah… he’s gentle to embrace!
Moody, sulky, get even-ish, is truly he. But to have him, is so cool… and so hot!
And, I truly do mean Hot! Fire retardant suit’s a must, as there’s fire… often, a lot!
He’s just a baby, waiting to be taught. I tried to teach him, how to fly me thru the air.
Instead, he dumped me in a treetop, it took all day to get down, until I despaired.
To help me down, he lit the tree afire, as his wings errantly fanned the roaring flames.
I jumped, and he smiled a toothy grin, because I was safe, he steadfastly claims.
I’m on crutches, nearly bent his tail. But he loves me, you can tell, see he puffs at me!
Grandpa Troll gives us time out, when there’s a tiff, as my dragon, is petulant, you see.
At times, he sits across the lake from me, blowing fire and smoke ¾ across the lake.
He’s such a sensitive thing, he took my couch to the lake, upon sitting, it did break.
I got upset and called him fat…he tried to steam me, as fire is such, a No- No.
For, he had learned to not throw fire… at least when Grandpa Troll is, there, tho…
He needs to be first, the center of attention, seen in his cunning life’s plots, galore!
He taught my Trolls a happy dance, while waiting their first boat ride. Silly Dragon!
They sunk my boat! It's believed, he was getting even for being last in line, you think?
And he stomped off, perturbed, when told no more rides until the boat is unsink-ed.
He’d been last, for breaking my roof for another (fourth) time, but it will soon be fixed.
You see, he gets lonely, while waiting for me, to come outside to play, the little minx!
He CAN be hard on insurance, as I got cancelled and my bills are higher than a kite!
And when the Supreme Leader of the Universe, came to our picnic on a motorbike…
Dragon, accidentally, released his Dogs of War, while sitting on his Harley Bike.
Honestly, the flat tires can be fixed, the body unbent, and the spokes were given back.
I explained they weren’t HIS toothpicks… he truly looked sad as sad can be, at that.
Never fear, we caught the Dogs of War before they had time to… do great harm.
You can just imagine how great this dragon will eventually be, when all grown up.
Dragon Slayer, indeed! Grandpa Troll gave him to me. He’s sweet as sweet can be!
Categories:
sulky, fantasy, fun, funny, happiness,
Form:
Light Verse
Love is won, then it conquers all through patience
But that's impossible without being kind
The two above build one to be honest
Suppressing all the feelings of jealousy
Silencing all tongues not to be boastful
Bruising egos that result from one's pride
Only the wise share from the spoils of lion's pride
Copying the beast waiting for prey in patience
Though giving man no right to be boastful
But giving satisfaction of some kind
Leaving villains in tatters of jealousy
Pulling to you those who remain honest
Noble humans teach children to be honest,
Hold close to heart their identity with pride,
Learn to murder the feelings of jealousy
Those who slur you just lose them no patience
Return slurs with virtues fit for man kind
All these show love and leave no man boastful
Calamity fall on those who are boastful
Misery awaits those who are not honest
Forgive and be cast as one of a kind
But do not become conflated with pride
Cause pride can erode the gift of patience
Leaving you sulky grumpy brewing in jealousy
Love allows no space of growth for jealousy
Fools think themselves wise when they are boastful
Taking as dull the prudence of patience
Hurrying breaking the rules of being honest
Disregarding words of wisdom with pride
Plotting to trample on all those who are kind
The cornerstone in love building is being kind
For that blocks away tinges of jealousy-
Not to cause acrimony that leads to pride-
That mauls peace and harmony by being boastful
Substituting quality of being honest-
With idle talks, lies and haste that ruin patience
Patience is a crown to those who are kind
Be honest to get strength to strangle jealousy
True love is neither boastful nor has pride
Categories:
sulky, love,
Form:
Sestina
The community is quiet, everywhere is cool,
People going about their business, children going to school,
The community has regain some sort of normality,
After months of gang related shootings and criminal activities
A fish-fry or bar-b-cue here, a party there,
We love fuljoying our lives, hate living in fear,
Love to move around freely, without being scared,
Without seeing two men approaching and you don't feel weird,
Months, since someone has been killed,
Relaxation, peace of mind, a dash of tranquil,
Fingers cross, prayers daily,please let this peace reign,
But in every community there is a pernicious set,
An incurable set. a set that only breeds havoc and death,
Empty minds, consumed by a dark, demonic de-mention,
Their joy is to prey on the innocent,
And while the community is planning upliftment,
They are planning death,
And when all seems well, shots ring out,
Community news travels fast,"dem shoot a man up di road",
A sulky feelings hits you first, then fear chips in,
War again, no peace...
Categories:
sulky, peace, war, peace, community,
Form:
Verse
Crochety,crusty and cross,
ever at a loss;
testy,touchy and huffy,
full of fickle fears,
impulsive teenage years.
Sulky,sullen then glad
faddish,fretful or sad;
tense,dejected and downcast,
each day changing fast.
Like a chameleon cast
by teens that,oh so slowly pass.
Categories:
sulky, teen,
Form:
Alliteration
He scraped the paint from his pallet and smeared it on his canvas
On his mind was a folksy sun rise
A glowing medallion, triumphant
Blazing in orange, yellow and red
Seagulls flying over the horizon bed.
Proud and satisfied with this aesthetic work of art
He felt more creative, ignited, adventurous
So he dipped his paintbrush in blue white and grey
And drew a thunderstorm in full play
With lightning bolts striking haphazardly
Flashing the canvas wildly and passionately.
The overwhelmed canvas wept
Tears of awe, tears of joy
Rain cleansed all the roads below.
He felt calmer somehow relieved
Of what he has so far achieved
And why not a rainbow of smiles
Embracing all different form and styles
So he drew a multicolored arch
Uplifting every sulky weary March.
He then felt mystified
And asked the canvas what to draw next
Let my darkness glow with light
Draw the moon with stars shining bright
And so he did with the moon and stars
His favourite collection of unpublished memoires.
So all his paintings were chosen
For life’s greatest exhibition
And all the humans were stupefied
believed that God was a true magician.
God and his canvas
His sky
The philosopher’s wisdom eye
His artistic beautify.
3RD PLACE
Sky Contest Sponsored by: Anthony Slausen
Categories:
sulky, art, sky,
Form:
Free verse
I saw a little boy and two pretty girls play on the beach
He took a few back steps and caught the ball
But hit his butt on a pointed shell
And let loose his good catch
He lost out to the girls and sat brooding
They joked to help him by lightening his spirits
All of a sudden there was lightning and the girls ran to their cabin
Dragging the sulky boy as didn't buoy their spirits at all.
*boy/buoy, but/butt, lightening/lightning
March 27, 2016
Contest: Wordplay Extravaganza
Sponsor : John Hamilton
Categories:
sulky, beach, girl, humor,
Form:
Limerick
Like his fathers before him, he was a tiller of the soil.
He loved the old farmstead that was built with sweat and toil.
He farmed with Clydesdale horse and cantankerous mules,
A sickle bladed mower, sulky plows and other John Deere tools.
He rose before the sun was up to milk his Jersey cows,
To feed the fowl, his cattle and the Poland China sows.
This was a way of life for him, never taking any vacations.
He cherished the farming life despite its many frustrations.
Tho' he'd seen unprofitable years, floods, hail and drought,
With indomitable courage, he chose to press on and see it out.
He knew the successful fruition of crops was a roll of the dice,
But he steadfastly labored on taking his chances at any price.
His fields of corn, wheat and oats were a beauty to behold.
He prayed he'd get top price when his various crops were sold.
At harvest, his mows were overflowing, his bins flush with grain.
Come next Spring he and his horses would begin the cycle again.
In overalls and an old straw hat, he toiled 'neath the Hoosier sun,
Laboring from dawn to dusk - it seemed his work was never done.
He clad his little son in overalls and assigned him simple chores,
Saying, "Work hard my boy - someday this will all be yours!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Categories:
sulky, on work and workingold,
Form:
Rhyme
Thelma Leeson.......
is in a nursing home, dementia will take her,
and I will recite this at her funeral.
Thelma Jane was a Leeson and she was premmie born
Size of a sauce bottle to a tent her tiny form
Oh thy bathed her in olive oil, good for her premmy skin
And mother Eva said to Tom no tent for it’s a sin!
Because she needed better care Jane Tattam took her in
Jane and Morry they were childless, second Mum and Dad did grin
May,1930 the ninth, was when she came to earth
Cool day in a rug , snug as a bug, this tiny babies birth
Her parents then lived in a tent for Tom he was a fencing
With Walter, May, and Henry some of the older kids I’ll mention
Little sister Marge arrived, sugar diabetes so grim
Mum Eva did her best to do the doctoring
Thelma would return to Eva and live in the big old tent
But she was used better things a house and all it meant
Marg was in the Warwick hospital, Thelma drove the sulky in
She clung to the reins, but the horse knew the way there and back again
At school in the forties two Soldiers did walk in
One asked for Fay and Thelma, just brother Walter tall and slim
Nervous Thelma took em to see Tom and Eva at home
Eva said it’s your brother, he’s been a Droving on his own
Thelma would become a nurse, but first she worked in a store
Aunt Jane didn’t like the hair clips in Thelma’s hair she saw
It was in Toowoomba forbidden clips were then a sin
Aunty Jane she made the rules, and Thelma wore em thin .
Thelma was a great Nurse with a timid gentle humor
Prince Alfred in old Sydney, and Mt Olivet would groom her
Michael Lalor of the Irish had captured Thelma’s heart
And Mary arrived a love child, right from the very start.
Then Michael he was called away the lord had taken him
Mary married in the church of Michaels christening….Ireland..
Thelma loved the wedding place, in old Ireland lovely crowd
Mary is her father's daughter, Thelma was so very proud
We always laughed with Thelma for at parties she would cook
At cousin Nell’s the Great Grandkids ate her cakes and sometimes chook
We all miss our lovely Thelma, it’s sad she goes away
But written on the mist of time is Thelma this I say…..Don Johnson
A much loved lady....
Categories:
sulky, adventure, mum,
Form:
Ballad