Best Swerving Poems
When the
moon muses
to the
melody of memories,
roaming wisps
of vanilla gently
flow through
space and time.
Your voice
echoes through
scintillating
sheets of
unwavering waves,
like lullabies laced
into silver nightfalls.
Within my
mourning sight,
invisible feathers
form into
clouds appearing
as wings,
swiftly swerving
and reflecting
perfumed “ forget-me-nots.”
A reminder
that you’ll always
be gracing our horizons
from
dusk till dawn.
I’ll savor your
memoirs within
pastel colored pages of
my purple journal.
I’ll recite
your favorite poem,
like
starlight over groves
of
silk and ebony.
Tomorrow before
the sky
tumbles down,
let the
sunflower stillness speak.
When these
tears are unlocked,
rain serenades symphonies
of
sentimental seconds,
lost to the
ticking truth
of fleeting
grains from
sinister silence.
You’ll feel my words
rising and
reaching
the seventh sky,
beyond unwritten
woes and throes,
as you
sway upon a
golden swing
engraved with
diamond dusts
and
daphne dreamcatchers.
'I want you to use all your powers and your skills
I don’t want his mother to see him like this
Look, look how they massacred my boy'...
Don Corleone (Marlon Brando) in “The Godfather”
-------------------------------------------------------
Playing the game. It's a game isn't it?
Life is but a game, but a dream isn't it?
I drove home by that road many, many times,
that very same short-cut country road that you took
that road where our lives crashed, exploded and shattered
shattered in jagged shards of Silver-Saturn pieces
(This is where you must have seen the swerving headlights
What were your thoughts? Were you worried? Were you alarmed?
This is the spot, oh God this is where, where it all hap...
What were your LAST thoughts? What were your last words
when that pick-up jumped, jumped and flew out of that ditch?
You always said "WHAT THE"...Yeah, you must have said that)
Driving myself to madness playing the 'what if' game
What if you had driven just a little faster?
A little slower? Stopped to pick up something?
DIDN'T stop to pick up something? (Did-didn't-did...)
Stayed at work a minute longer, or left a minute early?
(What-if-what-if what-if-why-where-what-how)
Just what are the odds? Just what are the chances?
2:AM? Maybe one car, one car every 2 hours or so?
If it were a head-on collision, you may have survived
If on the rear side, perhaps only a violent spin
But no, no it had to be on the driver’s side door
It was 'perfect timing, a 'perfect' flash in time
(Perfect-imperfect-perfect-why-where-what-when)
I drove home by that same road many, many times,
that very same short-cut country road that you took
that country road you were driving; innocently driving
just trying to get back home...
Yes, playing the game. It's a game isn't it?
Life is but a game, but a dream isn't it?
ISN'T it.
“Wicked Web of Woes”
Is there a reason
to rhyme when
lifeless fingers
breathe toxic agony,
whilst disgraced
quill suffocates
from wildering
riddles swerving to
the stillness
of calcified air?
As today, my heart
keeps pacing,
searching for a
symphony of serenity-
amid wayward clemency,
and when the first star
of the evening sky,
fades and shatters
upon a celestial canvas
of colorless dreams.
I feel the sweeping
wings of salvation,
resting amidst
clipped faith,
drifting swiftly towards
abandoned clarity;
exiled into
barren fields of
vast polarities,
where hope collapses
into an eternal demise,
tangled within a
wicked web
of woeful sagas,
trapped between
heavy clouds
of unshed tears,
beneath the
crisp cusp of sanity.
Yet I stand in
sweltering silence,
recollecting lost
chronicles of
who I once was,
whilst I’m drowning
in waves of
vexing numbness,
screaming into
the oblivious
spheres cloaked
in smoky
arctic haze,
questioning the
captive chains
of reality,
in dialects only
the moon
can comprehend.
Am I destined
to be caged
in sinful darkness
that the
world fed me,
with sharpened
knives at
empty tables,
with faceless
ghosts of yesterday?
Perhaps there’s
still a poem
that can unlock
the mystery
to a future that
thrives with
fruitful orchards,
where rain that
tastes succulent
wouldn’t burn
your flesh,
for even the
milky-ways would
unravel a realm where
everything should
be as it seems.
Vanquishing the
strings that bind—
daring me to breathe.
Ink Empress
Fading Star Silence
My soul
is in purgatory,
settling in fading tunes
of suppressed silence,
swerving perpetually
amongst
smoky quartz silhouettes;
swiveling through
the
dimmed dungeon
to unraveling shadows
of yesterday’s destruction,
moving in s l o w motion~
rejoicing invisible
rainbow glows
in limitless devotion,
fugitively
resenting the shifting
season of faith~
I question the
treacherous torrents,
through
unorchestrated symphonies…
where do the tides of jealousy
crash and hide to grieve,
over untouched waves,
when it has washed
away compelling
wishes
lost in perfect storms?
For, sometimes,
when trembling
skies bleed black pearls,
upon these aching lungs,
I think of every
nameless ghost
that emanates
familiar fragrances:
convincing
my naive mind,
there’s no evil
even in darkness.
Although I’ve
seen tints of
turning leaves conversing
with tantalizing tears,
whilst this volcanic
heart is ransacked
and ruined,
d a n c i n g away from fears,
forging meaningless scribes,
in fragmented fortunes,
left as debris along the
forgotten fields of
rambling roses drenched
in remorseful rain.
And I stand in the
eye of cataclysmic cyclones~
exhaling the exhaustion,
as the wolf moon calls me,
above million
mourning mountains
in musical misery.
Yet, when cosmic curtains
sequinned with
scarlet sapphires
of midnight skies
drizzle drops
of hibiscus heaven onto the
pages of my poetic haven,
I sketch stars in the shape
of magical w i n g s..
across cursed horizons,
to soothe my
troubled thoughts:
as it’s all in my head,
the
demonic devils dressed
in dragonfly
dust to deceive me,
unaware of how
I’ve been
blindfolded by
the brutal lies
I’ve told myself
in alienated expressions,
that the normal
can never neutralize.
Miles of roads while blowing horns
tiresome bodies their eyes are sore,
Trying to reach a rest stop to avoid
a jackknifed load.
Hauling the necessities to survive in this world,
whether it's Gas, Food or Motor oil.
Driving a semi the juggernaut of the road
maneuvering in all conditions even the blistering cold.
Away from Friends and Families away from their homes
Holidays and private events are void they're all alone.
A hard grip of the wheel avoiding reckless drivers
swerving in to unforseen debris blowing out tires.
A grueling shift comes to an end locking up the Trailer,
Arriving to the sanity of their homes ready to retire.™©
By: Shawn Munoz
90 down the expressway and I’m handling this stick
I am the true definition of a ride or die chick
Changing lanes, swerving in and out of traffic
Head in your lap, and I’m working my magic
Doing things to you that you’ll never forget
I thought I told you from the start that I’m an exhibitionist
You can take me anywhere, I don’t care who sees
Say you want it now and I will fall to my knees
I don’t care who’s watching, I hope they enjoy the show
Mind blowing sex like this, they will never know
The original Mrs. Nasty, Janet stole that name
I enjoy it nice and slow, but I thrive off the pain
Take a hit of me, and I’ll control your mind
Believe me when I tell you, I am one of a kind
I don’t want your money; keep your diamonds and pearls
Not a gold digger, a money sniffer, I’m not a material girl
I just need a Mandingo warrior who can rock my world
I am not the quiet type. I’ll loudly scream and shout.
I dont want to make love, just tryin' to get my back blown out
I don’t want to be your baby’s momma; you can keep the baby carriage
I’m not trying to lock you down; I don’t want your hand in marriage
This is just a booty call, a sexual relationship
Please don’t get too clingy, I don’t want your commitment
I might call you Papi, when I need a helping hand
Or I may not call you at all. This was just a one night stand
Chaste eyes trace my limbs, in the deep of woods
swerving like a breeze moist on fields of grass,
His Latin fire, on edge of twilight moods.
Shape of curves fondled like tender morass,
the call of moaning sprawls into full grind
swerving like a breeze moist on fields of grass
Although he’s roamed my shore , gentle and kind
I still pulsate where musk scent trails. Outside,
the call of moaning sprawls into full grind
My fiery sighs reflect a wilder croon
holding breaths captive in a mesh; a glide
of movement’s tempo sing to rising moon
And kindling now our chaste eyes, they abide
love’s virtue wafts from wings of night;
to hold breaths captive in sweet flow, a glide!
Inhabiting one space where gazes meet
Chaste eyes trace my limbs, in deep of woods...
Love’s virtue blazes skin from curl of sheets
His Latin fire, on edge of twilight moods.
The simple times remembered are worthwhile.
Those memories are treasured gifts to keep.
We were innocent and lived without guile.
---------
Inspiration from Nobel Prize poet,
Pablo Neruda from Chile. Excerpts from
his poem 'Ode to Naked Beauty' follows:
Ode To A Naked Beauty
With chaste heart, and pure
eyes
I celebrate you, my beauty,
restraining my blood
so that the line
surges and follows
your contour,
and you bed yourself in my verse,
as in woodland, or wave-spume:
earth's perfume,
sea's music.
----
Terzanelle Time for Joseph May
Old poem Re-submitted 11/8/2017
Oh sweet rain:
What? A siren somewhere draws nearer and nearer
Blue lights are flashing in my rear-view mirror!
Yes officer?:
What's the problem? I'm legal; what IS this about?
I sure wasn't speeding; is my tail-light burnt out?
Oh no sir:
You were stopped when I noticed ever so clearly
That your car was swerving rather severely
Ahh, yes officer:
I'm sure you'll understand, sympathize and agree
I was trying to finish a poem, you see
Try-ing-to-fin-ish:
Sir, calm down, just relax and please take your time
Do you mind if I ask the SUB-JECT of this rhyme?
CERTAINLY not officer:
It's about how the street-lights shine and reflect
Upside down when it rains and the pavement gets wet
Very good sir:
Next time call a TAXI or pack a bicycle!
May I ask you to step outside your vehicle?
Flash floods forecast hurrying steps and wheels ahead of foreboding clouds pregnant as eyelids welling with tears of baptismal rain to cleanse earth's skirt of its mire of blood and dust of blinding confusion with thunder of reproaches and flash of lightning clarity. I had been standing, switching gaze from red eye turning yellow to the traffic slowly rolling in one lane, in the next
a car came speeding forward unaware of the pedestrian, head down, hurrying into its path. In an instant making eternity: Rainbow splendor!
slow car swerving right
blocks car missing collision
saving the man's life
I wanted something bubbly
Coke with ice cream trick
That fridge, again, empty
So I made my trip to Kwik
Swerving around this town in my horses
Parking up by the front door
No training could have prepared me for
What waited inside the store
Standing with her 2-liter of Diet 7-Up
If I just died, keep me here on heaven
I asked above not be taken so abruptly
Feeling luckier than sevens or elevens
Now she says that this place
Is wherever we stand here
Desiring her within my space
Needing her crystal clear
That gentleness of her touch
As we let go while giving in
When love has got its clutch
In times we are skin to skin
cool clear chilly night
the moon glows so big and bright...
the owls out tonight
circling in the sky
bats swerving so way up high...
the hooter's- now fly
golden eyes in trees
flapping wings soar in the breeze...
dinner for two, please
A Haiku Collection of Three
Nature Themed Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Tania Kitchin
10/1/2022
*(Howmanysyllables.com)
shhhh...please don't tell Jan I tattled on her.
Did you hear 'bout Jan's custard a-la-plum
While making it she drank far too much rum
while on her wobbly legs
put mustard in the eggs
It was wretched and tasted like pond scum
Her hubby asked her for a large serving
But the rum made Jan wiggle while swerving
'Twas a messy mishap
She dropped it on his lap
Jan laughed but hubby found it unnerving
He asked why she thought that was so funny
Jan sipped more rum then said, "Sorry, honey"
She sat upon the floor
and drank a few gulps more
then slurred, "It wath a smidgeon too runny"
“A dog is the only thing on earth that loves you more than he loves himself.” – Josh Billings
When I was happy, you smiled.
When I was sad, you cried.
When I was lonely, you consoled.
When I gave you my heart, you gave me yours.
Thorns pricked, and you put your cheeks against mine,
healng my wounds in your soft furry touch.
Licking my face, you squirmed all over me,
your paws tangled in my hair, your tail wagging in joy,
dancing and swerving at my feet, you snuffed and kissed.
Reflecting sunlight into my foggy curtained nights,
Whispering small sounds deep into my soul,
As you caressed my pats, I radiated in your warmth.
Resonated in a passionate bond of karmic nearness,
devoted prayers, I saw in your dark, silent eyes.
Brimming with love, you fed my undying hope,
Courage to hold back tears, and strength to cope.
And then you betrayed me .... you died…
You will not wait patiently for me to return home
You will not run to greet me.
You will not nap with your face on my neck.
But as you leave, I have your parting gift.
Your watchful eyes, they guard me all times.
everlasting impressions of melancholy chimes
Man’s best friend, You taught me humanity.
You lay buried in my heart, in your love of eternity.
Dated 24th April, 2021
My New Year Resolutions for twenty-twenty three
will find me writing more limericks, and I foresee
poems of a gentle nature and none about grief,
for I vow this year I'm going to turn over a new leaf
by not playing tit for tat games with a trivial motif.
No longer will I read poems by anyone contentious,
those who find my opinions sundry or dissentious.
I promise to give more comments to those deserving
and when on the road to animosity I'll be swerving.
I'll find a positive crumb in what others say and think
even if they say my poems are a waste of printing ink.
I'll seek a silver lining when negativity hovers over me
and add smiles to cups of soup to sweeten the recipe.
I'll spend more time writing aural music for my lyrics
without paying attention to the naysayers or critics.
Writing is a sentimental journey traversed by the heart.
Where it leads a composer or poet, is their work of art.
I will find the time to celebrate life with lively dances.
Some may laugh and mock me, but I'll take my chances
and they might join me in having fun. In fact, I'd insist!
There may be a few more resolutions to add to my list.
I'd better print a copy and keep it on my kitchen fridge
or I might be tempted to cheat a bit. Well, just a smidge
when reaching for a snack, as I 've been known to do...
and break a resolution I swear to keep, or maybe a few.
December 14, 2022
Resolutions for 2023 Contest
Sponsor: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
I am tempered in tender triggers
of transitory ticking tunes,
as the air feels heavy ~
with withered whispers
of waning reveries,
a mercurial mirror to
my burning skin...
I've nurtured the nature
nestled between
nuances of nostalgia
feeling the nudge
from wistful noons
freezing my thoughts
to follow the fleeting ebb and flow
of slipping silence,
swerving through
curtained homesickness…
but why must the salt
of sea-breeze melt into memories
hope knows how the heart
heals with hurt
whilst you see not the
pained palpitations
amidst light of life liquefying
into unmerciful minutes ~ of time…
O time ~ the tricking tamer
restricting inner resilience
straining the summer softness
retrospective recurrence
rewinding on repeat,
leaving me searching for
the falling familiarity ~
rays of wavering warmth
to feel the pulse of pleasure
closer to
the confined corners
within my conscious thoughts...
for grey is throttled in grievance
heeding not the restless rhythm
of wind and waves
ferrying the ocean-highs
speaking to my skies
~ catching catharsis ~
as heat unbuttons
the soul of azure
alliterating the alienation
of breathing blistered bliss
aching across the shifting
shadows of unmoved fields
and I waltz… a wanderer ...
sleeplessly swirling
through the love-phased
lace of longing
replaying the comforting touch
from yesterday’s dawn
the sun and
moon that soothed whirlwinds
of weathered
wild-jasmines ~